a blanket
on a clothes line the stains
all washed out
I hang out in boredom,

to dry.

I am sick
of the clips
that wearily hold me up

of this washed out sanity

I am sick.

This is not the best me I can be.

Stop this, run again.

madness
drunkenness
silliness

dance away control:

colours bodies laughter

c a r e l e s s n e s s

the frenzy the rush
the high.

I miss life and I have lied.

burn books thoughts dreams.

They aren’t enough,
I’m going to die.

burn lists
projects.

I don’t need to be clever and ok.
people movement fear anger lust.


- to touch
and

be touched.


to feel alive.

Empty head
Filled with lead,
Spilt the beans...
Spoilt the fun.

Flatter-flutter
Pigs in the butter,
Killed the fun.
Chicken run.


Pitter-patter
Chitter-chatter.
Spilt the milk,
It doesn’t matter…

Cry no more
Like before.
Water under the bridge,
Milk is in the fridge.

...But you don't have a grave,
do you?
You own,
***** ****,
bugs in your clothes,
holes in your shoes.

[Crept in through a window;
He holds her close and says,
"You're everything I ever wanted."
She falls asleep, smiling.
He continues,
"But I'm also still looking."
Left through the back door.]

Left a note that said,
"Couldn't take the pressure."
Looked up the most painless way
to **** oneself on google.
Thirty minutes later,
added Medical Crisis Hotline
to my contacts.