sometimes lips tell feelings
better than words do

my knuckle is bruised
and im coming out of my episode
stuck in limbo between suicide and my bed
I know moving forward I won't feel
and it hits my chest like strong water winds
im tired of going through the motions

i hate the green on my tongue
and i dont know what im holding
on for as i sit on the bench
and the sun hits i still
have goosebumps
the cauldron hisses

im mad at myself
for hurting the way i do
and enjoying it
i hate my passions and the things i crave
i hate my subversiveness
and no i do love it

i cant stay in the middle of anything
and i need to get out

i cant imagine living
without a whirlwind
living a bathwater life
not poisoning myself

oh how the hurt brings out
my passion
and how i feel for things
i light everything on fire
and i love the ash on me

i let people make stories of me
and ill never tell them
if they are true
i will never know

what do ravens feel about
the smoke in the air
and collapsing lungs
the natural brown i try to
escape from

the whispers in the wall
make my hands cover my ears

when will a chair be pulled
and sat in,
when will i exist with more
than myself
who will love me
ugly and sinking into the furniture

Do i want to live or be functional?
i'm tired of waking up with a pit
In my stomach but the
Dull pain feels better than nothing
So i’ll spend my days in front of
Eyes that don’t feel
Listening to scripted thoughts
And i don’t want my medicine to kick in

Can i lay in knowing and not **** myself?
I’ll sip something to fill my physical emptiness
My tongue will take every drop with hate

I got an app to remind me to take my medicine

The hills are calling with their eyes and
I want to lay and lay with your hands
I wish you understood me the way i long for
I wish you wanted to

I’m not functional.
I feel the chaos in my bloodstream enough to
Keep me alive and shaking
As my fingertips run across my legs
Oh, god left me so long ago
Stranded to deal with everything myself

Will the mountains save me?
Hold me in it’s arms and communicate to me
That i can be ok?
Will the ocean stir and boil when
My feet touch the edge?
Can the trees of metal lift me,
Like a bird let me see the city,
Fill me with a sense of comfortability?

I can’t do what i’m supposed to
And i can’t do what’s good for me
I don’t think there’s anything that could
Make me or enable me to do so.

And ******* for hearing my words and
Blinking, not trying to make a difference.
**** everything that is still.

I live in a north river
And my body whips with the current
And i reach for the rocky land on the side
Cut my hands on the points
So i collapse into the water again
Filling the nose and mouth with salt
And disgust and the water isn’t
Pure and clear blue anymore.
i keep grabbing for more litter
To make myself comfortable with.
It never works.

does it hurt you when I grip the blanket?
I want tears when i'm laying in my spit
how can I be loved when I feel the sadness
in each strand of my hair
heart racing in bed, chest
bruised and falling.
with honey dripping off my fingers I see
how I could be wanted incompletely
I dig myself another hole
to decompose in