you're holding a toxic stick
between your finger tips
clicking your tongue as
your thoughts wonder
(I close my eyes and i can no longer see
if the toxic stick you hold
is a cigarette or a pen)

i never know how to start off a poem or a work of words
and when i do, it’s usually a handful of pretty looking letters that
form casualties in the lungs of my dear readers
(i’m sorry that i’m hurting and i’m sorry that it hurts you)

i drove past a graveyard and i could feel the departed eyes watching me as
if i was next.

(dear christ, do you exist? dear whoever, is there a forever?)

i’m not scared to die anymore, the fear has leaked out of this cracked shell and into
the younger ones - the ones who have seen monsters and not the ones underneath your bed.)

i’m not scared to die - but I’m terrified of what comes after
will i ascend to the heavens? or will lucifer claim me as his own?

(i’m pretty sure everything is a lie, but if it isn't -  i hope to see you on the
other side.)

i'm drowning myself by accident,
the sea water, well it's to far deep my dear
and the people that are swimming around me
well - i'm just to afraid to ask for help
from sharks

i asked her what she was afraid of
and she replied, humans

(i guess we're both scared of
monsters then)

when she leaves
(and she will)
she will rip the daisys she planted
right from your very chest and leave
nothing but a few petals and a few more
broken promises.

when she leaves
(and she will)
she will take a part of you
with her for the drive home
and you will lay awake at night
wondering why you feel so ******* empty.

when she leaves
(and she will)
she will rip open your arms and
hide parts of herself inside of you
deep under your skin - inside of your veins
and she'll smile when you scrape at your flesh.

when she leaves
(she already has)
she will leave behind the things you will learn to hate
her nail polish, her earrings, her 'who's a foxy lady' coffee mug
her smile is still stained into the bathroom mirror and
your bedroom still smells like her.

when she leaves
(well, most of her)
she will take everything from you but
still leave enough behind to make you
want to scream and cry,
i'm sorry - i'm sorry.

(feeling awfully self destructive tonight)

you asked me what
you meant to me today
as if you had forgotten
every aspect of yourself
i had fallen in love with

the past ten months i’ve went from being sad
to being sort of - not really - almost happy

and it’s taken ten months to go from sad to sort of almost happy and i want to scream and to tell everyone i meet that you can achieve happiness even if it’s only almost happiness

it’s still there and it still ******* counts even if you think it doesn’t it really actually does

(feeling better, feeling stronger - almost)