You cut my fingers off
One by one, by one, by one
Till my hands were left
with nothing to hold
The moment you left
A dull embrace
Searching for relief at arms length
Trying to grasp clarity fingerless

They say that love makes you feel butterflies.
So I cut open my stomach to set them free.
I watched them spontaneously combust.
Like moths to flames
Flocking around, ignited,
Melting, tacitly

Comfort was sitting outside my apartment stairs
At 2 a.m
In the dead cold weather
As I blew my warm breath into the air
Mimicking the actions of smoking a cigarette
While you cuddled next to me
Comfort was humming my thoughts out
As I unraveled
While I sat outside my apartments stairs
At 3 a.m
And you came and sat next to me
Comfort died two weeks ago
outside my apartment stairs
On a cold Wednesday night
Comfort lived in a tiny feline body
Comfort had a name, his name was No Face

Why is it that at the end of every sentence I write.
There's a man with a knife piercing it's blade into the back of my brain.
My mind feels colder this year.
Minutes die faster but hours live longer.
Half-empty water bottles like my goals scattered across my room.
I wrapped a noose around concequences neck and kicked the chair he stood on.
I watched his legs dangle like dancing ballerinas on top of a frozen creek.
His face went colorless.
Then I buried him beneath my bed.

I'm like a vacuous worm laying in bed
Squirming uncomfortably.
Watching myself impassively rot
from the inside out.
My books are collecting dust of life's are no longer live.
My chairs accumulating clothes of personalities I no longer wear.
I'm holding my unresponsive eyes in my hands, I feel blind, I can't see my wood floors.
It's covered in inscrutable ideas, on blank pages, ripped out of my notebook.
Ink spills but nothing's written
Inspirations, emotions, and feelings are lost somewhere within the air.
But I can't inhale the oxygen they contain.
My eyes try to peer a view of the world
through ***** curtain cracks.
Im tired of staring at the ceiling.
I turn my head left to stare at the chipped painted walls.
Simple words splattered in color crow black of all the humanly advice I've ever heard.
Yet it doesn't resonate inside of me.
I turn my head right to stare at the wall peeling like my thoughts trying to crawl out of my brain.
It's funny,
how vacant this room feels;ghost memories fill the emptiness inside this empty space.
when I have everything I ever wanted to make me feel alive Inside here, or so I thought?
She said
"Where lies the beauty in being buried alive"
And I responded
"I don't belong here anymore"
Struggling to keep myself intact
like my fingernails being bend back till they snap.
As I watch a detritus love deteriorate, in a gradually decomposing disintegrating way, and perish like it never existed in the first place.
Like trying to constantly feed life into the lifeless with any kind of progress.
My teeth are corroding from all the words stuck in my mouth
I fell off my bed, crawling on top of  wordless pages.
Dragging myself across what seems to feel like a hollow abyss, with a floor made out of hands filled with thorns.
Trying to find peace inside the hollow selfishness of my psychotic Self implanted misery.
And through my rebirth of dead departures of selves
I found God in myself....

I was never one to stay in one place for more than one day.
But I've been sitting on this bench for quite a while.
Rotting out as the seasons change for almost a year. Observing my life, analyzing the world with my pupils not my mind.
Passion,
Compassion,
Inspiration,
Love,
Hate,
Regret,
& memories.
Withered & bloomed inside of me like a garden of suicidal flowers.
I take one last look at this life.
I put the gun in my mouth.
I can taste the hollow steel
& before I could smell the gun powder,
I pulled the trigger on the past.
I awoke in the present
but the future still seems to have it's hands wrapped around my throat.
They say that time waits for no one
but time has been waiting at my front door long enough.

Heaven & hell faded from my conscious.
Wake me up,
for I've been dead for years.
She danced her way inside my comatose.
She sings "the meaning of death " she sings "is the value of life"

I cut into his limbs to find the weight of the hold.
Carved negatives into his back to find a positive outcome.
I held a gun to his thoughts
As his brain fed on a taste of fiction.

I said I could be the most neutral person in the world but jealousy, uncertainty , insecurity, will always come unexpectedly, and naturally.
I said "it's not that I don't trust you.
I just won't  ever sink my teeth into the idea.
That I found a person that made me feel like I'm floating on water."
And the thought of her finding better or deserving greater.
Will always come as an itch in my brain,
that I cannot scratch.