I think about dying but I don’t want to die, not even close. In fact my problem is the complete opposite. I want to live, I want to escape. I feel trapped and bored and claustrophobic, theres so much to see and so much to do but I somehow still find myself doing nothing at all. I’m wasting every second, even now i’m writing this when I should be out there, I should be living. I’m still here in this metaphorical bubble of existence and I can’t quite figure out what the hell i’m doing or how to get out.
A part of me wants you
in the most innocent way possible:
taking off your shoes in my bedroom,
climbing under the sheets and watching
whatever’s in my Netflix queue,
barely even touching
as we talk about our days until we
fall asleep with our
clothes still on.
But another, hungrier part of me
wants you unbuttoning your shirt
before you’re completely through my door,
falling onto my bed, and
scrambling to make your fingers
unbutton my shirt faster
Your mouth shaking out
my name the entire time.
Safe To Say A Lot’s Going Through My Head When I Think About You | Lora Mathis (via jasfuckinq)