As I burn
Your absence
With whiskey
Try not to tame the ashes
Pray the sky returns to its forgetful sleep
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
And as we head in that way
Where the sun has begun
to fall asleep
I wonder how your night went
If your dreams whispered of the sins
I laced in your heart
Or whether my blanket of thorns
kept you from breathing at all.
And as you ask about my hands
of why they smelt of blood ,
whiskey and guilt
*I laugh
I laugh at the silence.*
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 5:56 AM UTC
But isn't life just a window you poke in and out of between daydreams?
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
And these sun-drenched ocean waves
nudge against sand-kissed finger tips
as they sigh into your feathers
of the agony
they were impaled with
and moan of flight
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
And somehow it feels like
My body is a house I cannot afford
Maybe 'cause of the location.
An entire world of possibilities,
Accessible to me with just a few steps
And yet, for some reason,
I cannot step past the front door.
I try to not forget
feel grateful
That when I turn on the lights
I become a part of a dream,
a part of a skyline
people want, people envy.
That living here is a privilege.
No matter how much it seems as if
these walls are begnining to fall apart
into nothingness
I pay my rent.
Earned with sweet late-night chatter and laughter
By painting Orange-pink sunsets on the drive back home
By lacing my fingers with no regrets, so tight,
to ever come undone.
And yet, gradually, price of my existence grows higher
Every single day with
Every tear shed
Every fight where I struggle to make amends
Every story I begin to write
and somehow cannot possibly imagine the end
And then
I somehow start to earn less and less
and my rent is unpaid, still due.
One day
A letter comes in the mail
saying my rent has been paid.
I have a roommate now!
Or maybe I always have.
I think I know him
I have seen that silhouette before
On the other end of the apartment inside my brain.
I am living with depression.
There’s no other way to put it.
He puts my walls up , repairs them
and makes everyone else stay out.
He tells me he’s the only one
who can stand these cramped rooms
It seems as if he's been spreading out
more and more with every passing single week.
I don't think there's any space left
for anything that I recognize as me
I have a roommate now
And he also makes my friend uncomfortable.
'cause when he’s around,
I can't seem to say much of anything
My voice stays almost mute
Maybe cause I don't wanna make him angry.
Don’t wanna hear what he’ll
shout when they all leave (and they always do)
I always try to leave.
Try to find other places with different rooms
Different beds
Different drinks,
Different meds,
Anything to simply forget
that I eventually have to stumble back to him.
I have to face him in the living room.
Listen to his words,
Hear his laughter all night.
Keeping me up.
I know
He wants me to move out.
Wants me to vacate this space, these walls
with no questions asked,
with none of my things packed.
I can tell
By the thin pink sketches he draws in my skin,
his plans to make his own bloodlines.
I can tell by the way he keeps handing me the knife.
I know he wants me to move out,
and someimes I do too.
I don’t know if there’s a difference anymore.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
And it's not that
I can lay the blame
for my obsession at your door
For it was me
who draped your words
with added meaning
dangling the gossamer sheets
from the paltry phrases
that fell a little too carelessly
from your cursed mouth,
never guessing ,even once,
that they would wind up serving
as iron blinds
for my caged soul
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 10:03 AM UTC
Slowly I am
wiping the mirrors
judging the subtle reality behind it
witnessing the frivolous frailties
And
Maybe
I finally can
let go of those years
Drowning in your sins
as mine
Robbing me of my own home
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC
Blue blots adorn the page
Trembling ink falling from
trembling fingers
Don't you remember how to write?
There's a pause
Images soar wildly through your mind.
Like a firefly zipping inside a glass jar
Bouncing from memory to memory
Ultimately the light shines bright
The firefly reaches the top of the jar
But before it can escape
It burns out
Falls gracefully
On it's back.
You look down
And the blank canvas
Screams of silence
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 7:16 AM UTC
Maybe you could wake me up and tell me it's just a bad dream
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 1:31 PM UTC
Because, how tragically ironic would it be
To end up dead because of an overdose
of the medication meant to help keep you alive.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC