anxiety guillotine, hanging
from a thread, suspended above
my sunburnt neck. i'm utterly spent.
another day, back bent in the stocks,
latched in for the Kafka-esque:

carnivalesque body-horror.
shovel white-hot daggers
beneath finger-nail keratin.
bite my tongue off with police-tape teeth.
sadist, savor my godless screams.

drawn and quartered. send my limbs
to the map's furthest corners.
horseflies' aborted eggs
nest amidst maggot-infested
intestines, dangerously dangling.

turn my frown upside down.
stick a razor-blade
in my mouth
and pull 'till i grin
like chelsea.

interned within an unmarked grave,
save for the cairn made from the same stones
i flung myself upon from a great height. a wave
dashed against the rocks, endlessly rebuffed—
the sea's clairvoyance couldn't budge the boulder.

Her scent was ambrosia on his lips,
swimming within oceans
hearing the waters calling.

Waves gently lapped upon features.
As the ripples settled, he could taste
the essence of her, drowning in pleasure.

°○
°○
○
°
<o[[[><

when you feel like
you're drowning


learn to be a fish!.

[10W]

Thorns give us scratches,
But not all can take insults,
With delicate skin.

What if I was happy from the start?
what if my parents bond was stronger than the freedom of divorce?
what if kisses bruised my face in exchange for those brutal hands?
what if my dad held me in his arms a little longer?

Maybe I would have never alluded to the conclusion that a broken family is a healthy family.
maybe I would have learned that self hate is a vile disease, deteriorating from the inside out.
maybe I would have never searched for sanction in lustful boys whom fed into my daddy issues.

Maybe I'd be sane, clear of mental illness-
Or in expense for my self destruction I'd find content in a solitude of isolation-

What if I was happy from the start, will there ever be such a possibility?

Have you ever experienced the touch of death ?
I have..
Ive felt her thieving hands run through my hair.
Ive felt her abandoned palms hold my skin.
Had her frostbite fingers trace the paths  of a thousand winters across my face.
I watched as she stole everything from me.
Helplessly watching as it all disappeared.
I hid my tears amongst the April showers
Watering the flowers for the funeral in May.
The numbness of her artic touch has made my life eternally blue.
But we continue to smile because that's what life expects us to do.

~p.w