I erased all my drawings
every
******* one.
line by line
they sliced my skin
and I tore into them
so they could do the same
to me

I died in the ink
the first time.
from the pen to the paper
my salty tears flowed

and I was tea-stained
from long nights of
this and this and
this
and ever the calmest
I never showed it

because
I could never be anybody’s best
not even my own
so it never mattered

and so I drew alone
and now
the second time.

they’re gone
because
I left
too

b.m.c.

my ship sank three years ago
slowly, the water was cold and
the captain screamed
but went down
with
his
ship

a floral cough
as salt swept in and the oxygen
sleeping in me
woke up
and scattered, well I was scattered

and the captain told me
well kid
we all die
just swallow and swim deeper
it’ll be faster
better that way
it’s okay
we all go

so I swallowed salt
and breathed with the fish
oh, they must have thought
it was beautiful
and I must confess, I almost thought
so too.

I wish I could say
I stopped
when I sank
to the lowest
oh, the lowest
but even there the water was clear
and when I started breathing it
I admired the light there
or rather
the lack of it

because some things are better dark
and before I died
I drank my coffee black

b.m.c.

I will never
my eyes stretch out to yours
yours, all of yours with all of mine
an inscription on my gravestone
that wanted you to be there
and you weren’t
no one was

and well
I realized I wasn’t in your eyes
but you were under the film of mine.
it’s the little things
that you see in the corner, you see
in the corner
and I wanted them out

so I shut you out
but hey, I shut
them
out too.

b.m.c.

I remember now why I always thought
winter
was the loneliest of the seasons
We're slipping back into it...
Not even
a sleepy bar room waltz
can make me feel better
or warm this room
that I sit in
And it is indeed
cold with no one here
But I've been writing again
No, I haven't been eating
But I'll get there
someday
Maybe when the snow lifts

b.m.c.