i imagine you rotting. rotting and melting. flesh becomes matter as it falls to the floor. we wear our hearts on our sleeves and the floor wears our skins and muscle. that’s how it always goes, right?
why are you looking at me like that? you know that we’re the same (we’re the sane).
getting back on track, you’re falling apart as i watch (you made sure i did; i couldn’t ever take my eyes off you). you’re completely exposed now, bones and all. you say to me “its like i’m looking in a mirror”. at least, you said with your eyes. your lips are on the floor, sinking into the stained carpet (believe me when i say this because if they were still attached i would have kissed you right then and there).
suddenly, there are tears in my eyes. you try to wipe them away, but they don’t stop. you pick up some of your muscle to try to soak them up, and i tell you that’s not the kind of tissue i need. you laugh, but nothing comes out (your lungs have already decomposed. it seems you’ve already forgotten).
and then i look away. my tears dry, and, as i look back, you’ve reformed. good as new. not for long though, as soon as a minute goes by you start this cycle again. you’re rotting. i look away, you’re back. rot, return, rot, reform,
don’t you ever get tired? (i do.)
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
i’m standing in the middle of a museum. which one? not important. i’ve lost vision; everything is blurred and i feel like i’ve just been told i’m legally blind. i can’t decipher what is art and what isn’t. is this chair something i can sit on, or an antique sculpture? are the people walking around me real or some elaborate movie being projected with myself as the only real one there? how can i even be sure that i’m real? of course you are real. i tell myself you would never be considered art.
and then it hits me. her. when i looked at her, it’s like i had 20/20 all over again. she was so clear but somehow remained dream-like in such a natural way. she was more than art. she is more.
god how i’ve felt myself being ripped apart like pages out of a sketchbook everyday since i’ve met her (it’s not your fault; i’m the one who ends up burning them anyways).
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
you know what happens to them. or maybe you don’t. maybe you’re still caught in the flood. that’s okay. it’s better to drown than to burn. don’t you think? don’t you think? don’t you think?
it comes to me in two distinct shapes. (distinct. are they distinct? to me, yes, but i suppose to you they are just as shapeless as i am to you.)
him. my beautiful idiot. though his hair and eyes are dark as night, i know there are sparks that lie there, dormant. waiting to be ignited. but he makes me smile, makes me laugh so hard my stomach begins to hurt. i haven’t felt a good hurt in such a long time. the lips of his ghost leave an afterimage on my neck. he likes to watch the color rise to my cheeks, likes to watch me squirm. he thinks i’m worth something.
her. my ethereal starry girl trapped in a rotting sack of flesh. she wants out. she wants out. i know she will supernova anytime. it will be just as beautiful and terrible as she is, but i don’t want her to go. she keeps me from floating away, even if i am so unbearably heavy as a result. she protects me, loves me. she always tells me so. i can still feel her hands on mine. they’re warm. she thinks i’m worth everything.
but it doesn’t matter which form it takes. it always ends the same. they kiss me (hold me protect me embrace me touch me touch me touch me touch) and they burn. they always burn. it’s because of me, i know it’s because of me. this can’t be my skin then, it can’t be. it must be gasoline or gunpowder or nitroglycerin or god i don’t know but don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 5:21 AM UTC
i don’t know why
things go
so wrong
with people
who seemed
so right
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 8:31 AM UTC
just like how
in an airplane
you put your own
oxygen mask on
before
trying to help
anyone else,
you need to go
save yourself
then come back
for me.
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
“i love you, but you make me feel cold on the inside. my bones start to ache; no, not in desire. they’re trying to warn me”
“- being alone like that must have been awful
- you say that as if i’m not still alone”
“don’t you understand that you won’t be happy until you love me? this is for you. all of this has been for you”
“i don’t have enough time”
“i thought it would be easier, you know? after all of.. this. i just thought it couldn’t get any harder, but like usual, i was wrong”
“the idea of us together makes me gag”
“what happened to you? you used to be so warm. now you’re ice. i’ve tried to thaw you out, but it’s hopeless. no one can help you anymore”
“this darkness is the only thing i can truly rely on these days”
“do you know how many times i cried over you?”
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
i have taken
a great fall;
that is,
for you.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
my heart does not stop
you do not take my breath away
i do not feel powerless
i am not pained
because that is not how love should feel
when i see you
my heart beats twice as fast
to make sure that i’m alive
so i can see your beautiful face tomorrow
my lungs fill like balloons
(grab my hand
we can float away together)
you make me feel so powerful
i feel safe
this is love
Jan 18, 2018
Jan 18, 2018 at 7:31 PM UTC
i started smoking
because it is the
closest thing i
have to you.
how you used
to always carry
cigarettes with you.
the smell of smoke
followed you
(traced you, held you,
touched you, loved you,
loved you, loved)
wherever you went.
i grew to like it
even though
i consciously knew
that it was wilting
away at you.
the consistency
pleased me
(i was never
one to like change)
and when you left
you took the
smoke with you
and it was the
first time
i was truly burnt.
i told myself
that i would do
anything
to have that smell back
to be reminded
of all the good
memories
instead of the bad ones.
so i started to smoke
and now i can’t stop.
once again
you have plagued me.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC