My breathing feels fluttery, shallow
moths pushing their papery wings up my throat.
I imagine my eyes look glassy, sick
melting from my face,
colors melding like blue green gray lava.

My hair is an untameable wave that cascades
down my back and is an even flowing river that drapes
onto my shoulder blades and biceps.

As I sit in the swivel chair waiting for the scissors to
shear off the last dead ends, I think of you.
With these ends, you'll be disappearing, too.

You haven't touched me in over two years, now.
As wisps of hair drop off onto the tile below my feet,
I can be rest assured that a new beginning has dawned.

I try to express you what I've been feeling
But this wretched rush is coming up my throat again
This must be you..
I need you to *******.
******* *****.
Should I swallow the bile In hopes it descends deeply and lies in the depths of my ever aching belly?
Or shall hack you up and spit you out and flush you down the drain
Then wash my hands of you?
My finger tips are stained with the nicotine that has been nursing my anxieties lately. How therapeutic these Cigarettes Have been to me.
Scorching my throat as the air fills my lungs
When my lungs finally do give out on me,
I will be numb.
I probably won't even feel it
I haven't been able to breathe in years.

I.
People leave huge
Holes in your spine.

II.
But flowers die,
Crumbling deaths,
For one heartwarming
Moment.

III.
An empty skull;
Suffocating... thoughtless breaths.
Trembling feet as I walk among the dead,
Are you afraid?

IV.
I'm afraid.

V.
"Unattainable"
What a throne I slouch upon.