i feel as if everything is on it's brink
things keep turning, a preventative measure
it's not enough to lessen the pressure
and honestly if it were to tip and fall
perhaps i just wouldn't care at all

light

so alive
a shot into waiting veins
eyes widen, adjust
my lids crinkle
an automatic response
to something so bright

so blue

and in the dark, by my lonesome
i'll put together a thousand soundscapes
of the adventures we've been on

the strumming of a lone guitar among the hushed whispers
of survivors long-gone, and tales long-forgotten
a woman's voice, clear cut and chilled
singing a mournful ballad for all to hear.

the endless creaking, crackling of rust
water dripping and stirred up dust
dragging pipes, chains and more;
falling asleep on the catwalk's floor.

i made a selection, just for you,
of teenagers running and laughing
snow kicked up, fire crackling
perhaps you're alongside them, cackling

you ask me if i love you.
so i say
“i feel like i do.”
but sometimes my feelings lie to me
and i don’t want to do that to you.

in my skin

its started when i reached back
a breeze on my neck
a slit at the nape
stooty, void black
and my fingers pressed down

and they just
kept
going

what were you?

were you a poem, like me?
or a collection of colors,
mashed into something distasteful?
were you a collection of code,
strings and variables,
waiting for the right moment
to strike?

perhaps you were created with anger;
sorrow, or jealousy
designed to hurt
born in a fiery rage of vitriol
directed at one, more, or all

your grave lies among thousands like you
but you're gone now
and you can't hurt anyone
anymore