he drank his morning coffee with a drop of the sunrise mixed in
always one drop, never one more nor one less
just enough to hear the steam whisper
good morning

At noon he sipped his water
filled with remorse and not much else
work does that to you, you know?
he watched the clock tick tick tick the seconds away
and distractedness turned into dread

In the evenings, he drank shots of heartache mixed with every drop of the starlit sky he could get
Thirsty for more always wanting more
no amount of liquid hope could quench his thirst
He held his glass up to the heavens begging for slivers of the moon to trickle down into his soul
though the sky had nothing left to offer him

the next morning he mixed in an extra drop of the sunrise to ease the hangover
he had drinking problems
always drunk
rarely sober

I can hear your back crack,
in the dark.
Removing your underwear
with chewed fingernails:
You softly ask
if we can share scar tissue
and if I'll stay
despite every issue.

You try to kick the covers
off of our bed,
and ask if we can share the thoughts
buzzing inside of your head.

When insomnia erases your eyes
and disease steals your brain:
You inhale ways to die,
because you still dream
but it's not the same.

I can hear the static in your skull.
I know why you keep
the kitchen knives dull.
You pull on my fingers
so I don't forget you.
You cry on the pillows
and hope I like romance too.

I kiss your temple
during each thunderstorm.
I read you books in bed,
because your eyes are worn.
I put my ear to your chest
because I want you to see
that the air you breathe
means everything to me.

they asked me
what did YOU do today to make the world a better place?
i looked down at my feet
embarassed
"i woke up"
i said
"i got out of bed"
they looked at me, puzzled
"i didn't let depression win"
a small smile crept across my face
no, my dear, the world the world
what did you do to make  the world  a better place
i took a deep breath
"i told the girl in the bathroom mirror she was beautiful"
"i told the boys to stop bullying the girl in the hallways though i wonder if they heard me"
"i told the empty hallways i'd be okay"
i told depression i'd bury it
i woke up
i got up
i stood up
and i hit "play"

he drank his morning coffee with a drop of the sunrise mixed in
always one drop, never one more nor one less
just enough to hear the steam whisper
*good morning

my brain is dousing itself with kerosene, tempting thoughts taking
form of unlit matches,
yet to spark
how do i learn the art of
living under extradited energy of this fire?
the elementals of exhaustion, oh,
how it rests as the black hole in the back
of your head.
it smells like last spring break, you know,
crazed.
i began carving
myself into something other,
you began eating less and
vomiting more.  
i wanted to believe in god,
waking up at 12pm on a sunday to
slug the nearest bottle of red, maybe,
it'll get me closer, maybe,
maybe i'll taste him
i'll become so numb i'll start to believe
i'm living for a purpose,
that theres some drawn-up reason for
my little existence,
opening old wounds or
leaving without closing any doors, any at all,
touching stove tops,
praying to 'anyone' that this is already hell, that this has
gotta be the worse, this can't
get worse,
punching brick walls to break knuckles, only to watch poems fall out,
heaving at the sight of anything and
laughing when remembering everyone leaves, even 'dad,'
shaking hands with the reflection in the mirror, the person you don't want to be, the person you're claiming 'too toxic,'
the person you're afraid to see again