i miss my hair falling out
my eyes dragging me down
i miss not having anything but bile
my bones pulling to the earth
i miss the sweet feeling of being hollow

blue, a color to morn
seen as sadness
mistaken for a sign
of the coming sorrow
some simple symbol

blue, a color of comfort
like rain after drought
clear streams bubbling
and oceans swelling with joy

blue, like fireworks
while popping blueberries
and a refreshing drink
under the clear blue sky

blue lights
hot teas

cold feet
soft sleeves

quiet room
typing keys

beloved you are
gentle soft pillows
filled with feathers
that itch at my skin

beloved you are
sobbing on shoulders
acid on tongue
begging for love
that I've never known

beloved you are
the beat of water
the shower head
pearly tears fall down

beloved you are
broken like glass
an edged smile
at days of the end

beloved you are
chaining me here
clutching at nails
like knives in my hand

we all have thoughts
impulses, moments, similarities
we all know the actions
smiles, words, movements

out of sync, the feeling of missing a note
no arrangement to follow in a symphony
a world of music, no voice to sing

my own are broken
discordant, amiss, awry
my brain is hoping
wishing, waiting, wanting

those slender fingers ache
with frost touched tips
when hands join not
and severance of limb
not of your own body
comes away like snow
falling from the sky
so naturally but so coldly

body, what aches in you?
from dismantling joints
to decaying flesh
the rot only I can see

mind, what plagues you?
from late night thoughts
to the words of others
as I try to escape it

body, what are you?
to deny the mind
and wreck havoc on identity
to break me again

mind, what say you?
follow into darkness
and float ways away now
to a better place for us

I sit alone on the floor,
the light blinks in and out.
...or perhaps it is my eyes?
that I cast now over leftwards
to look at the doorway.
Empty, as it always is,
or is now? as it should be.

I feel as though I am floating,
no, I am grounded now.
Chained here to the floor.
My body lays like bones in the ground,
unmoving and crushed by dirt.
heavy and cloying, the smell of earth.
worms dig under my skin,
wriggling parasites in my skull.

Am I decaying? like I once wished.
my thoughts like rot, what else...
but to deteriorate into darkness.
My body lays on the floor,
a useless cadaver as it always was.
I am strung to it by some means,
my ghost lingering on the dead.
Have I not moved on yet?

one that is not my own
one a skin I no longer fit
one all my own but older
one new and fresh faced
one that no one ever knows
a list so long I could never find me
a list of them extending beyond all

tired eyes, those long nights
drinking mint tea like alcohol
whispering to myself in a soft drawl
as the frigid september air bites

my lids grow heavy as hours pass
staring at my screen for answers
words jump around like dancers
my vision becomes milky glass

as I lift my head to the dawn
my hands still across the keys
and I can finally feel at ease
now the night shadows are gone

I painted my brothers nails black
he got tired and we took a nap
then I woke up to get a snack
there was even a little cold snap

what is true nature if not this
the whole feeling of sunshine
as it streams onto my face
bring such warmth and joy
as I soak in its morning rays

sweet dripping and lush
in my tea and into me
honey in my veins

i hate food
i love to eat and eat and eat
i never seemed to stop
chips, nuts, berries, and galore

i hate food
i love to chew and chew and chew
i always seem to be hungry
pasta, bread, eggs, and more

that dark black coffee
bitter on my tongue
it twists my mouth up
like you used too

with subtle flavors
sharp hazelnut undertones
like your soft curls
use to smell in the morning

I wake up to one cup
or maybe three or four
to fill up space that you left
now in my empty quiet bed

s t  r   e    t     c      h       i         n       g
long corrrrrridors
ache with those
who once
           w
                a
 T                   l
   H                     k
      E                      e
         M                      d

can you hear their echoes coming back?

from so             F A R              away
and
          d
             o
          w
             n
                    these mirrored halls?
that distorted the truth
                           and their reality?

in forty three days
the world will shift
not for you maybe
not even a bit

but in forty three days
my axis will tilt
and fall to the ground
shattering there

in those forty three days
I will change again
and move far away
never to be seen again

I wanna smell like lavender and honey drops

I wanna be there when your heart stops

I wanna breathe in decay and out life

I wanna go to sleep and ascend to your side

I wanna return to dirt and become flowers

I wanna have honeybees in my blooms

early as the sun rises
a drooping still body sits
glancing up to the window
as sun peaks through blinds
a sluggish eye squints up
and the dragging mind watches
as the haunting night now gives way
to a bright merciless morning cycle
as the world continues without a pause
for the weary souls that never ended the day

no time for gender
when there are crimes to commit

eyes squeezed tight
like my bones in this hole
away from it all

falling through the sky
tumbling down now to nothing
foundations lay bare

we were like a switchblade
sometimes a smooth surface
with pain on the inside
sharp edges hidden away

but we flicked out sometimes
taking it all out on the world
nothing deserves to feel the kiss
of our mind's rusty blades

She would hold us by the tips
polishing away the old blood
and revealing a dull blade
that never wanted to hurt anyone

down the road
driving away now
from the grey
the cloudy sky
in dark sun
an eye opens
and spills out
all the secrets
that we held
far away then
from the old
from the familiar
and be new
here with me

at that first loud crash
I huddle under thin sheets
shivering and scared

wind screams at the door
thunder crashes down hollow halls
hide under the bed

wandering through the stacked books
with delicate frames atop a sloped nose
shoulder length locks of leather brown
your physicians fingers on a book spine
honey eyed glances thrown over to me

sweet lips mumble poetic pages to themself
I hear pages rustle and soft sweaters shift
as you close the book and come over to sit
hands clasped on the table we chatter
and hour will fly by enraptured by you