i have nothing to say.

no, it isn’t a mental block.

it is emptiness that fills me up
right to the brim.

the silence that rings in my ears,
the cold within the casket

the tips of my heart
iced over by time
and frosted by voices
in my head

an unheard echo in the void

the winds blowing in gusts
into eye sockets
of glass eyes and glassy eyes

this desolation
of isolation
and devastation
is the spark
burning out in the snow

a snowflake into insignificance

i have nothing left to say.

there’s no one to hear me anyway.

a pedestal for all to see
engraved on its bronze
bio: “reader writer - carpe diem”

as i let the liquid slip
out of my chest into
the pillows of my hands
resting on the pedestal of my face

minimum bid starts at
“has dog and is nice”
but the empty hall
gives no comfort
except for stray flyers
begging for
the thing in my hands
to fill their negative
bank accounts

as time starts running out
so does the liquid
out of my hands
and i can only put it
on sale

my hands are at my knees
without the warmth of my heart
and i am left with no choice
as it leaks into the open mouths
of hungry, filthy holes

and i crumble to the floor

“cadaver - free real estate”

you ask me why I’m leaving
but I have no sob story
no apologies
none at all

i carry with me only
the scars you left
when sensitive you
said insensitive things

“I got your back,” you said.
but you held me back
you turned on all the lights
but you blinded me

you opened all the windows
asked me to stare
but I am suffocated
by your glare

tear-stained mascara days
dot my calendar like
the painting you gave me
spattered with the scratch marks
and paint under nails

it is tiring.

watching their faces smashed
against the windows smiling
almost aggressively laughing

having to not hurt everyone
as i trip about corners and words
and deadly sentences
and yet still get there
get to “friendship”

standing in an
unending burst
of my own energy
just to calm theirs

pulling up my
****** muscles to
create a paper thin emotion
a semblance of contentment
just a semblance

cascading upon me
a pool of thoughts and opinions
i never asked for

i am tired.

of them.

mirrors
questing to see
only our face
in their cracked mirages
and shattered dreams

windows
struggling to see through
one another
as we attempt to open
ourselves out to the
frosty winds of the world

doors
locking everyone else out
locking ourselves in
slamming shut
getting slammed shut

drawers
infinitely tall
full of unopened
chests and unsolved puzzles
rusty keys broken
in rustier locks

lights
trying to
glow and glimmer
in the pressing darkness
refusing
to be snuffed out

walls
some graffiti
some paintings
others ***** stains and *****

we are but furniture
used users using

we are but a home
with cracked walls windows mirrors
but we are a home

we are but humans
with broken minds souls hearts

but we are human.