The view from up here,
Is all I can see.
The train goes by,
The lights go by,
My life goes by.
It’s all that it ever feels like,
A bleeding lip.
Me, my body, this mind.
Alone up here, legs dangling off, listening to the wind’s
Cacophony of heroes.
Like hell,
Like, at any moment I could slip off,
Fall onto the train tracks,
Let it take this away.
Feel the cold air all the way down.
My back no longer up against a wall,
And my legs never finding their balance.
I dream of the train taking my mangled silhouette away from this cliff,
Away from this air,
Away, into the night, every night.
Rolling on, wheels painted with blood.
Never have to watch those lights again.

Searing pain in the chest,
Longing for inclusion, for aid.
Rather a stab wound than be subject to,
Rejection.
Rather I touch fire than long,
Yet my eyes wander and nerves shake me,
Into the caged mist,
Like a cornered animal.
Any god would know I attempt,
Though I still wade in comfort,
Coddled by self mutilation.
The snake seeks refuge in the throat,
Thrashing as it sinks lower in the body,
Slamming each time against the lungs,
Desperate to escape this prison,
Decorated with dirt and sleepless nights.
My breath is stolen by its scales,
Bleeding out in mute acceptance.

Shattered glass on marble sand,
I feel heat spread on my palm.
Like tiger stripes to the beat of a,
Foreboding distant death psalm.
Enforcement of an oblivious executioner,
Unloving of a careful dawn.
My heart, my soul, my love isn't for me,
It's for something I can't act upon.