She writes your name with her tounge
It isn't your name she's attached to
It isn't your words or your eyes or your
smile still saliva slips
to the
Skin of another
Like a ghost it's only a broken record
But you hear it moaning "help me"
Stuck in another dimension
It does not wait for someone to answer
Only helplessly repeats

There is no one inside
She licks an empty shell

There's a power in solitude
When your words can drift in
the wind to be lost forever
To be alone with your thoughts and
to not go insane
To look straight in the eyes of the sun and not
be blinded by brightness

power is not paper

Power is to be alone
and not feel lonely

Peculiar and particular
Is how many describe my taste
For if you are not
Perfect
You are a ******* waste.

Maybe to disassociate
Is the only way
"Like maybe that's alright
Maybe it's okay"

But
Then it all hits you at once
Speeding bullet subway train

Your body has been void for years
Your organs have already melted, rotted, and withered
away

And when that happens
There's no going back

You wake up in the morning
Every morning
and
Instead of brusing your teeth
You look in the mirror and ask yourself

Who the **** am I?

And your brain goes empty

So.
utterly.
*******.
bleak.

I miss
The taste of his neck
And the
sound of his smile

The lightness inside his breath
The smell of his sweat
The way the sunlight shone
Through
his hair

I miss him more than
Anything would ever miss
Air

Six years gone
Six years waiting


He still doesn't care.

Black circles darken my eye.
There are notes to play,
but my vocal cords are cut,
and I am drowning in
a steaming pile of
my own guts.

There is a group of people
They sit in a grey room with no windows and
Try to piece together their grey puzzles

It is silent.

sometimes they
take pieces from each other
only to find they do not fit and are more confused than they were before

Stuck on pride

There has been only one puzzle the whole time

It is true we are our own worst enemy
But
Can you even find where that piece hides?