Maybe I should
Carve slices
Of skin

To--

Consolidate her
With the pieces-
Because my blood
Is all I have.

As-

I gave my bones to
An acacia tree
It grows thorns
Out of eye sockets,

And it's shadow
Cast's sorrow where
We used to speak.

We're trouble
You--and-I
She spoke loudly, As the plants watched her cry.

It was leather bound-borderless
-Transcriptions, I told you secretly.

As ataxia spread to bones,
Belonging-
To reflections of invisible limbs.

Goosebumps spoke blasphemy
And nobody knows,
Why--

So we paused; inadvertently denying
Each other's breath-
In this dogma of dreams

Bred tectonic tidal locks
In all imaginings.

Help!

Screamed my mulberry bush.
It was more peculiar than not,
Wearing damsons for shoes.

She cried so mutely,
While the winds pouted softly.
Expressing exaggerations of briskly
Soaked demons delivering
Allegory.

In the form of tapping leaves-
Scrying for millennium branches
And canker-core enlightenment.

We merely are-- broken mishaps
Bearing mutations; teeny-tiny
Fluctuations in the dust of dusts.

'Excuse me'

She whispered so subtly,
That he forgot to notice.

As her heart bled free
From his hands.

I've been existing,
Co-existing
And non-existing.

Theres a smell of blood I get when eating pieces of myself.
Savouring them for later.
Unable to begin or end I cannot stay or leave as always-

Intended because my skin crawls abnormally.
Though anti-gravity possesed each piece in essence
Theres a sickness in that I do agree.

But benevolence is seldomn here
Anymore, and sanity is long bereaved
I am merely stone holding onto fragments of thinner things.

Breathing phosphate, I apologise for the wings
That were sewn together out of spite.
I've cracked legs to be here.
Listening to those sounds that connect my emotions to my understanding became relief becomes...
More angry than you know, like a whisper in the snow
I drift--