I saw butterflies,
perch,
on my toes,
last night.
They fluttered down,
from the ceiling,
calling my sole,
their home.
Onyx wings,
somehow sparkle,
in the late,
early hours,
of dawn.
I ponder,
will they,
carry me,
to my end,
this time?
Only wishes,
and the anxiety,
of being lost,
again,
this time.
I dream,
of freedom,
from reality.
It’s mocking my,
illusions,
birthing them into,
hallucinations.
My brain,
broken,
haphazardly,
glueing,
the pieces,
together.
Lost,
I’m drowning,
forgotten,
I should be,
flying.

Lips pursed,
blowing bubbles,
and placing kisses,
on the back of,
wrists,
that lay there,
bleeding.
A sick,
smile,
a smirking,
child,
breathes hot air,
against fogged windows,
drawing pictures,
of ******,
figures.
The world is all,
consuming,
trapping me behind,
bars,
bullet proof glass rooms,
it keeps me,
spinning.
I am twisting,
turning,
my stomach,
it keeps it churning,
dizzying,
I am losing,
no I’m,
winning.
Drink the liquor,
it drowns out,
the sound,
and keeps,
us swimming.
Nicotine laced,
smoking kisses,
it helps you,
pull the trigger.

I used to,
beg to be,
different.
Longed for,
oddity,
uniqueness.
Now I’m craving,
normality,
familiar,
experiences.
God is mocking me,
finally granting,
my wishes.
While also,
divulging in my,
desires.
It’s not,
fair,
I no longer,
yearn to,
disappear.
But there seems,
to be a,
delay in,
messages.
I prayed,
at the wrong,
time,
and now,
I’ve forgotten,
how to say,
amen.
Can someone,
pay the toll,
I’m losing,
my way,
home.

Light a cigarette,
and it,
fills your consciousness.
It drowns your mind,
it pools into your lungs,
it teaches you how to live it,
poisons your brain.
Can you remember,
how to breathe,
take one in,
scream it out,
pull the trigger,
and blow your mind.
Stop and think,
for just a minute,
nicotine laced smoke kisses,
to clear the head.
Pop a percocet,
choke on the curses,
bite the hand,
that fed your ***** mouth,
you sick child,
don’t you listen?
Light a cigarette,
stop and breathe,
for just a,
minute.

Last night,
I dreamt,
of your lips,
pressed gently,
against my,
pale neck.
My heart,
skips,
sputters,
to a pause.
I ponder,
if you too,
dream of sin.
The fog carries,
a lust,
I have only,
been forbid.

You told me,
don’t let go,
even when,
you’re dead.
Then you,
unlocked,
our fingers,
like taking,
one last breath.
You’re not dead,
just a reflection,
in a smudged mirror,
cracked far beyond,
repair.
I won’t let go,
but not because,
you told me so.
I’ll turn my,
back to the,
past.
In the sky,
look for me,
this time.
I’m the one,
holding on,
to the clouds.

It’s the smell of cigarettes,
too early in the morning.
When you choke on your own spit,
and snort while you laugh.
It’s the carbonated drink,
in the old pillsbury dough boy cup.
The way the sun shines,
between white curtains,
that are almost translucent.
It’s saying the word,
“****!”,
when your lighter doesn’t work.
It’s the red carpet on the stairs,
and the way they creak,
when you haven’t quite mastered them.
It’s making mud pies,
in the puddle of your driveway,
every time it pours.
When you hit the wrong light switch,
though it’s been more than a few years
It’s the sound of the breaks,
when the bus stops in the morning,
and you can barely roll out of bed.
The sweet smell of dandelions,
before your dad mows them.
It’s dyeing your hair,
and staining your friend’s bathroom sink.
It’s losing your bra in a glovebox,
and never finding it again.
It’s learning how to live,
before you lose your chance.