you blew a hole through my chest
with your shotgun smile
as i sipped from a cup
of ruin and destruction.
maybe that's how i contracted pneumonia
on the seventeenth of september
and maybe that's why my lungs are corroding
and my voice is gone.
because there's a hole in my chest
the size of you
and it's drafty today
as the wind whistles through me
singing a song
that sounds like crying.

*(a.m.c.)

i told you in my dreams
that snowdrifts were breaking my bones
and northern winds were closing my throat.
as i sat underneath the iceberg melting
in the pacific ocean
i wondered if my claustrophobia would go away
if i just inhaled the water
and drifted downwards
until the sun could no longer reach my cold hands.

*(a.m.c.)

your breath tasted like the cigarettes
that your mom used to smoke in her mercedes
i could've sworn you quit trying to **** yourself
three years ago
but it turns out you just got better at hiding it.

remember that time i took you to church
and as we walked out you started crying
because you didn't think that the god
everyone was worshipping
would love you more than you hated yourself?

i tried to take you out
i tried to fix you
but it tore me up inside
because broken things sometimes can't be mended
and you were shattered glass that made my hands bleed too.

*(a.m.c.)

four years ago i became a carpenter
and started to build a wall
between myself and the world.
people came and went
and tried to take out the bricks
like they were playing jenga.
and some people walked up to me
with a sledgehammer in their hand
and knocked me down with the wall.
as the years went by
my wall got taller
and the people became fewer
until there was no one left.
i'm starting to rethink my blueprints
because it's getting lonely over here
and i forgot the windows.

*(a.m.c.)

the day i stole thunder from the sky
was the day the lord snatched up my grace
and pried it from my fists.
because you can't rumble,
and rage,
and storm
with the power of ten thousand volts
without admitting that the power isn't yours.
i guess the grace i borrowed
was something i needed more
than thunder and lightning.
so i traded in my electric hands
and begged to receive his grace once again.
although i'm anything but worthy
and although i've wandered into the deepest waters,
he smiled at me
and said "i've been waiting all this time. come home."

i'll wander from home every day of my life
but i find myself sprinting back
and he welcomes me like i'm his prodigal daughter;
lost
but found.

*(a.m.c.)

i wanted to be eaten up,
swallowed
by the sky.
i wanted the clouds
to become forests
and the stars
to become puddles.
i wanted the moon's laughter,
the sun's attention,
and birds' embrace.
can't you see i don't fit
on the ground,
and i'm always looking up.
are we all at home on earth?
or do some people have to fly
to feel less homesick.

*(a.m.c.)

maybe the wind in your bones was the same wind rattling mine;

maybe the salt eroding your skin was also eroding my skin;

maybe our ghosts are haunting the same house (it's rotten above these floorboards);

and maybe that is what destroyed us.

i swam in your lakes but the current washed over and drowned me (it tastes like blood under here);

i've wanted to trod on you in dust with my new tennis shoes but you're still crawling on the shoreline looking towards the sun;

you have become a deep crater inside of me and it hurts like hell but the only thing that heals scars is salt water and burning fire (i tried to get rid of you but your grip is ice cold);

i think i'll continue to chase ships on the horizon until they are tiny figures in my palm (they only get smaller and smaller until they're gone).

*(a.m.c.)