truth be told
you’re nothing special
you’re like the others
you had #8’s crooked smile,
#4’s wild hair
and #11’s laughter
you’re another boy
here mainly to erase the empty feelings
left behind by the first boy
it goes to show that no one is really special
because I’m finding a lot of him
in you, you, you, and you.

I was up all night crying again
And it isn't the pain in my chest that bothers me
It's the fact that I'm so used to tasting my own tears
that i could recognize them in an ocean

We lie a bed,
Sheltered in cloud,
Your words, soft, cut
Like fawning feathers
Serrated in a bone vise,
Our mattress was a grave,
Six feet, founded asunder,
Your pulling hair ropes me in
Two, the fabric of fleet, tightening
Fingers, laid without guile nor shame,
Without a drop of torn, tearing tenderness,
I am hollow in bleak breaking, spiking silences,
You remain cautionary, vacant in the blanketed hush
Tried, as we were doomed, in the noonday rush of sun
That slept in crawling frosts of creeping shade.