I want to,
But I won't.
I need a
Little smoke
But I won't
Cause gettin' it
Means getting up
And once I'm up
My world just flips
Right back down
As I fall too
Into a thousand curtains
Hiding me from what
I want to see
A window where
It's warm outside
But pressing my cheek against
The fabric seems to be enough
I've got to run
But I walk
And the talk of something new
Brings hope for something worse
And confidential lullabies
Sing me to sleep tonight
I'll call you on the phone and say
"I'm good, what about you?"
And you'll say "Good"
And we'll talk for hours repeating same lines
And avoiding the part where you tell me
You are driving to clear your mind
Cause bruises stay sore
And you never tell me anything anymore

There's a few ways of living
I don't like to live
This
Way
If living like this means
Laying on the couch
Pitying myself
For all of my problems
Then I don't wanna live
This
Way
I've got a drink in my hand
And whiskey in a bottle
Tiring myself
I'm too tired to swallow
If whiskey is my pride
Then I swig the whole bottle
Tastes so good but I'm
Too tired to swallow
I don't wanna live
This
Way
Well like they say
You need to change yourself
I want to live
That
Way

I wake up to sun
pulling at my eyes,
like a worm yaked
from dirt to skies.

Kind and careful touches,
like hundreds of flies
dancing on my skin—
a pleasant suprise!

Kind wool beneath me,
wrapping me in thread
of a sheep who only trusted
and has since bled.

I wander to my home,
the path as long lost
as yesterday’s morning sun
buried under this ones’ frost.

Kind smiles greet me—
wheels thunder underfoot,
rolling into a town
thickly polluted with soot.

I smile deeply.
Live life as close to best,
I shall smile through it
like the knife through my chest.

The birds fall from the sky.
My eyes are dry.
The buildings collapse on top of me.
My eyes are dry.
I realize I cannot cry.
My eyes remain dry.
I let out a sigh.
Still, my eyes are dry.
I realize you're going to die.
My eyes want to, but they cannot cry.

I lay on you, and breathe in the smell
Of your hair, feel the small vibrations
Of your laugh resonating the soft felt pews.
I tell myself I will remember this forever,
So when I miss you, I can still feel you.
The mood grows serious,
The vibrations of your voice shrink down
To a whisper, and crumble
Like rocks beneath a hammer.
"When I die," you say,
Fleeing every so called good feeling felt
Away from this place.
"You're going to get bear,
But I can't tell you what you're getting yet."
She tells us.
Me.
Him.
The only ones here who know.
You told me yesterday, yes you did.
I smiled, I cried, I cussed at God,
I cried again, I bargained,
But I still did not accept.
I smiled and told you it would be okay.
But I think I know deep down inside
That you know deep inside
It might not be okay.
It came back. It's here, in this room,
Inside you.
And I keep making up scenarios where
Someone has asked me
"Would you do this thing if it meant she lived?"
And I always say yes no matter how
****** up the action may be.
Maybe this is the bargaining.
You're not dead yet, but ****
It feels like it.
It will be years.
I'm sure of it.
But I'm just so scared, babe.
I'm so scared.
No one so young should be labeled
With an expiration date,
A summarization of how long their life
Will be.
No one.