Line after line after line. Bent over the cold white tile counter
Line after line. Dark side record covered in pearls of snow
Line. Rolled up $1 off an Ikea desk rails pushed together by fingers

.

Call me Miss Cleo

      I’ll read your cards
    
                  Over the phone

my last love held his gun to his head
So sweet so kind
The gun was not
Sharp trigger it went right through

Nine month old with a soon to be ex wife
My friend liked to drink
He fell down the stairs
              bled out
Alone and passed out

Under the bridge a man hit the ground
Off the side onto the rails
I watched him jump
His shoes popped off

my guardian angel
we all have one right
Mine walk with a black mist
She wears all black
Dragging the sickle, fallowing me closely
I was told she watches over you
to protect and guild
My angel is death
She keeps me still and silent
She watches and reminds
She’s not far off

My world is in the shape of a shield
Small and divided with smoothed over edges

My world is bitter
When left to dissolve
My world is better
When Taken at the same time, every morning
My world
Is like me
Bitter when left alone to dissolve
Better with some routine

My world
Fits inside a small orange bottle
On my coffee table

These things were never meant for me
And I ache from clawing at the ground
As time pulls me away from those moments
Anything to stay
Anything to numb
Anything to encourage ignorance

Anything to to avoid being alone

I’ve had a nice vacation
Living in my own happy world
Looking in on the life I had
Missing it
Craving the wild I once was
little blue shield shaped pill
One every morning
Dampen who I am
Diminish my light
Destroy the art that once was
I’m ready for the vacation to end
I miss who I was
I want to feel that freedom
I alway thought was a cage