.
Not fair— her dear swishing body,
The cling of shearing Indian cotton,
Cool nights of wine pouring shoddy,
Broken truths, laid to rest, forgotten.

your razorblade tongue ran across my forearm
my *******
my thighs
i know it isn't right
but make a mistake enough times
and it no longer feels like one
i am always fine
until i am alone
in my room
thinking about you
and your
quick
cutting
tongue
on my skin

forgive me lord
i have
sinned

If I looked down on myself from above
I would look like a feverish dream
gold bleeding out of my eyes like a cracked open door
and cheeks stained crimson as if being out in the wind too long
rushing breath stumbling
down my lips
I am running
while laying in a mess of heat
heart beating just a little too fast
to make me
"normal"

you bring me down to earth with breaths you whispered into my mouth
maybe you're telling me secrets with your eyes
while I am desperately trying to regulate my heart rate
beautiful doesn't even capture
your hushed voice
tell me again
how to cut off my wings
and be human
you look like a dream
a feverish dream
I don't feel alive
but perhaps
oblivion isn't so bad

I'll throw my head up to the sky
attempting to break the separation
trying to stop running
while standing still
on the edge
of where I could be
and where I am
take my face in your hands
and convince me

I'm not dreaming

I back peddle from a paper pedestal, hoping for the best, hoping you don't intend to inspect the wreckage I have left.

I am temptation at its test, an exclamation on contempt, collecting the regrets to my exemptions under stress.

A misnomer to my bets, against the better judgments I neglect, I'm set in my ways, in lucid forays, I've let from my veins,

and I've slept, the whole ******* way.