boltenhanics

[boltenhanics]

“I know I will not be missed but still I try to make every moment count to leave a mark worth remembering even for just a small while.”

— Lukas W. // I know I won’t be missed

[boltenhanics]

You need a private talk? Just send me an ask!:)

[boltenhanics]

[boltenhanics]

smrtdeath- everything

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I love you but I wish we’d never met

—I can’t handle the pain

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Some days I’m Van Gogh’s “Starry night.” Other nights, I’m just his suicide note.

- elaynaa

[boltenhanics]

i need you in my arms

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Dream of Dreaming

In my dreams I can fly

That means I sleep on my stomach

So I can steer easier

But flying is exhausting

And as the greatest insomniac who ever lived

I am exhausted

I want to sleep peacefully

And dream of dreaming

So

When I go to sleep I hold onto my headboard

To keep myself from drifting away

[boltenhanics]

Played

I have two guitars, two ukuleles, a piano, a flute and exactly three marimba mallets in my room I can play my flute but the pads need to be replaced and I have to fight to get a mature sound I can play the piano if you consider fingers fumbling over plastic ebony and ivory to bluntly hammer out the first few measures of Fur Elise playing I can play brown-eyed girl and smells like teen spirit on the ukulele Well one of them The black one is painfully out of tune due to a botched string change And I don’t even want to discuss the mallets But the guitars My guitars They hang on my wall A constant reminder that I can’t play them Whatsoever But if I could play guitar I could, I don’t know Play songs? Play almost any song everyone hearing this has ever heard I could play love songs and angry songs and celebratory songs I could write songs I could stop sitting at my computer tapping letters and then the space bar and then the backspace and rinsing and repeating until I’m left staring at the screen Staring Watching Watching that stupid little black bar blink and blink and blink and blink and blink and blink and blink Telling me that I can’t play words either But guitars I could strum the strings and make noise You can’t backspace noise Noise is so intangible Once it’s out into the universe It’s there forever So I should learn to play guitar to keep myself from deleting everything I’ve made If I learned guitar I would have calluses on my fingers When I meet someone and shake their hand They will feel my skin and know I am capable of something Can you look at me now and tell that I am a poet? A baker? A budding forensic pathologist? A sister? Can you tell I’m learning sign language? Can you tell anything beyond that I managed to get myself dressed this morning? Can you tell I barely even managed that? I have this friend and he may be a mutual one His name is bipolar disorder Bipolar disorder has a friend and her name is depression Bipolar disorder and depression are swingers that frequently have threesomes with anxiety When these three get together they fuck on my brainstem so late into the night that sometimes I wake up to depression’s moaning Moaning that manifests itself as echoing noise somewhere deep in my brain like an itch I can’t quite scratch A string I can’t keep from strumming A string badly out of tune and desperately struggling to become a melody I take Zoloft These tiny blue pills are supposed to stop the strings deep inside of me from strumming These tiny blue pills are supposed to be my own personal tuning pegs These tiny blue pills are supposed to remedy years and years of being tossed around Thrown to the side by roadies just trying to get through everything quickly Rubbed the wrong way Plucked These tiny blue pills are supposed to quell the string inside my brain And give me the strength to turn the stiff pegs attached to my heart My heartstrings too tight My brainstrings too loose I have two bottles of Zoloft, two packages of birth control, one bottle of Prozac and exactly three types of pain medicine in my room None of them make a difference

[boltenhanics]

Flips

I wish I could do flips To run into the open space in front of me And leap Turning the world on its head for a moment Before continuing to walk along Down an empty corridor Keeping my brief moment of defiance to myself Instead I walk along Down an empty corridor Wishing I could do flips

[boltenhanics]

When u try to write the words but the words don’t come out and ur story sits unfinished for all eternity

[boltenhanics]

Intoxicated

I am drunk off of a shot of mahogany chased by the scent of your skin Tipsy from an effervescent cider spiked with freshly washed and suddenly wrinkled sheets A brew best served with mild guitars slicing the silence in the background The calefactive concoction reaches into my chest and cools to touch my spine The two play a game of chase deep within me Heart leaps away from Brain, desperate to not be burdened with the cold harsh thoughts sure to come when captured The pair plays a seemingly endless game of tag I am smoking expectations of us past, present and future I am high off of dense promises and foggy dreams shared over dopey conversations I sit back and let noxious gasses of youthful ignorance engulf me Maturity yearns for me to open the window I scoff at his ignorance Doesn't he know I'm having a good time? The game of tag continues yet slows to a crawl My thoughts tire and my love steps in Engulfing me in warmth and guiding us back home Tucking me into my own little bed And singing a lullaby promising the future Am I hallucinating trust in your exuberance Or are you the drug that changes my life Sending me into a tailspin, a degree from which I'll never truly recover Permanently intoxicated on a love I deserve