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4.3k · Jul 2018
(caramel) ken doll
absinthe Jul 2018
sat next to the man with two phones
i asked him to hold my hand
and he laughed  

sitting in his ‘96 civic
for three hours we fell asleep
till six since three

he’s one of the many men
whose substance
far from the moral field
leaves many men with little substance
and you and me victims
of victims of you and me

he’s the type who feeds fiends
and he’ll keep making a killing
off children we perceive
as grown men and women
living to **** themselves
it’s how he makes a living

don’t him you belittle
for you are no different  

i know the thought makes you livid
you wish he was lined up and shot with the likes of him
but your white lies are their white lines
and the front lines in his line of business
so you would lie alongside and
wrong right
where you were digging

as far as i’m concerned
he’s not a man without substance
and one of much substance
one of few and far between
and certainly could you defeat

because while you let savages ravage me
he held my hand for free
and never demanded their standard fee
of an arm  
and a leg
and everything in between

.
1.3k · Feb 2016
so savor it while it lasts
absinthe Feb 2016
instant gratification is so good
but
just wait for its disgusting aftertaste
847 · Feb 9
love
absinthe Feb 9
i hate a mess
but i’d hate
not seeing yours
all over my bedroom
floor
more
823 · Nov 2018
The Abortion
absinthe Nov 2018
i killed a man today
yesterday  
he was a child
and before then
was once inside one
meanwhile inside
her childish mind
he didn’t decide
her body wasn’t his
or go on to dismiss
the one on her side
or rid him from her insides

yet now we’re here
and it’s me he sits besides
my hands slide up
and down
his bedroom
eyes

was yesterday not just the other day
what’s tomorrow but just another today
and why is it i can kiss a man
at the same time  
i end his life
650 · Jun 2018
unrestroom
absinthe Jun 2018
this bathroom floor tile
knows me better than you do
you slid through
and the caution
slippery when wet sign
you took is the only
difference between the two
pictures in the funny papers
mercury and magazines
now we’re all victims
and more confused
you refuse to breathe the life you took
back into me
like my restless tears refuse to keep this filthy floor clean
absinthe Jun 2016
i have only
one lonely
component
of moments
altogether, they make the misnomer
we all **** every morning,
every time we call it
time

i’m in bed, thinking
of my child--
past,
my mistress--
future,
and my husband--
present.

do i manifest it
in the most innocent victims
in my kin, keeping
their necks bent backwards,
twisted
twenty-four, seven
for no reason other
than my (sub?)conscious,
its viciousness i keep
feeding, nursing it
with ****** breastmilk
   i keep reminiscing and reliving
   my initiation moments
   ago, when she forced my transition
   from visions of halos
   visible in the distance
   to a new life witnessed
   from a higher elevation measured
   in mere feet, in measly inches
   all its symptoms
   hosting the syndrome
   we selfishly love scapegoating
   as the capital of sweden

or do i invest it in secret
in a potential haven
its instantaneous
gratification
purposely overlooking
my infernal husband
   i see him, vivid
   his eyes gleaming, livid
   while he's smiling, living
   in pure bliss, the image
   of him standing
   in the background
   oxymoronically
   observing
   with a rigid south
   that defies physics
   and hails northbound
   like my eyes when they widen
   allowing my peripheries
   to admit the bigger picture
   and finally i get it

or do i intertwine
his fingers with mine
give in and follow through
with vows
so
black
i had to contrast them with white
   by draping
   over my shoulders what i'd only seen before when
   time, my fashionably late ******
   snuck into my room and ravaged innocence
   it was mariana trench grim
   even the moon couldn't take it
   watching her stab
   the white sheets,
   in blackness
   hearing my eerie screams
   as my innards leave me
   and suddenly i embrace
   the potent beauty of a venomous snake
   the gleaming power that hate plagues
   so together we'd watch them bleed red
   sitting. but that was moments past
   now i carry the horrid legacy
   of mastered maleficence
   how to manipulate it
   beneath a veil that hates evil
   and it still tempts me...

that's why i did it
wore white and feigned interest
to distract the morbid being
hiding deep within, rotting, festering
i put it all together when i broke
at the hands of a monster
who created a fraternal clone
by instigating an innocent sadist
a different species
i can drain us all, together
in a brutal whirlwind
of failing, of indecision

if only
the moon had made it
if only the sun had listened
and rescued me
instead of insisting
that shining on time
was out of style
but its prerequisite
was no compromise
instead it trapped me
in a sinister dungeon  
because taking orders
from a subordinate
is a demeaning price
higher than
the cheap little girl
bleeding, crying
she carries no significance
she's falling behind
just like the future
of an otherwise worthy existence
just like my mistress --
future
my husband--
present
and my child --
   passed
now
nothing
matters.
it's only
a matter
of time
until we all die

after all,
we had it
all, stolen
or otherwise
yet instead,
we spent
our whole lives
torturing each other
and killing time.

- end
625 · Mar 5
march 4 2019 at 1138pm
absinthe Mar 5
hey dad
remember when i was
only half bad
sometimes i do
but right now i can’t feel
half bad

i’m hazmat
as your suit
has had
my pursuit
of you
seem half-assed

before i press repeat
i remind myself to rewind
the mind i pay you
after i try to rinse my hand

i’m either asleep
or dreaming of dreams
but never in between
like the white light
that beams
on its way to my heart
halfway down
the ashy stream
599 · Mar 2016
drug of choice
absinthe Mar 2016
step into my office, take a seat
come talk to me
tell me about your disease
your anxiety and your shaky knees
your addiction to drugs
even in your dreams

I'm the best at what I do and I know it

i see
i hear
i mend you
help you heal
your pain and agony
but what if i told you
a secret
one guaranteed to lead you
straight back under black's blanket

                                                        i'm a fiend                
                               i get my fix all day for free
       in fact, i get checks made out in my name
                    the more i use, the more i'm paid

I am the best at what I do and I do know it

i do see
i do hear
i do mend you and
help you heal
but what i don’t do is
feel.
that's why once i help you and i see
you sober and well and clean

i will break you and watch you bleed
you will feed my sadistic disease

that could be you if you were
me
a sociopath
too smart for streets or pharmacies
so inhumane
enough so to fiend
for a scot-and-drug-free DOC
for
your pain and agony.

- end
596 · Aug 2018
august 22, 2018 3:33 PM
absinthe Aug 2018
dear baby bro,

i miss you so much. so much so
it doesn’t hurt anymore.
i keep trying to be everything bahi wasn’t to me
i think about my approach
i had a dream two nights ago
you came up to me
and said you can’t ignore me
anymore
i got so excited
and squeezed you so tight and
even though then you said this doesn’t mean
things are the way they were before
and suddenly it didn’t
not hurt anymore
i still had you to hold.
and the holes felt whole

i know i have to reassemble
what i broke.
and if it turns out your heart’s
missing a piece
because of the peace
my negligence broke off
just know
right after i’m through
putting mine together
my heart’s yours
490 · Jun 2016
emp(a)t(h)y
absinthe Jun 2016
it's those
who feel
the need to help you
the most
who don't feel.
it's they
who need
(your) help
the most

i am they
and i don't feel
but still i hear
their
   ah...
of relief

again
i am
    

     empty

and how i wish
i could learn
how to breathe
if once
one sigh
of relief

- end
absinthe Feb 2016
stay up with me please
stay silent like me
let’s be quiet like death
let’s live as one in peace
i want to hear you breathe
just let me hear you
    exhale
  inhale
    exhale
  inhale
stay, i’m so restless
my headrest, your chest
resurrects me beneath stars
just let me listen, please
you help me just by breathing
just let me hear you
    exhale
  inhale
    exhale
  inhale
i feel your heart, it pounds  
my ears pound with its throbs
the pounding in my head
beats down my heart’s rhythm
but there's peace in your breath
just you can hear me
  inhale
    exhale
  inhale
    exhale
    stay up with me please
    your beatings mend my pieces
    i’ll meet death halved and peace-less  
    if for one moment you leave me
    with lungs that gasp for air
    and no exhales to breathe in

- end
463 · Jan 2017
cann[i]bal[i]sm
absinthe Jan 2017
feeling burdened—it tends to happen
particularly when meddling impressions run rampant
swarm circles in my hefty head, ignore the next exit ramp, and
let devils' advocates covet the cove i donned my dome once upon never

although i know this may be chalked up to intelligence
and subsequent ignorant claims that swear it's heaven sent
i swear it’s not for me. so tell all the hell-bent docents to leave
and let live my cognizance dim—to do what i can’t. to let it be.

it is what it is
and what it is
is it’s
excessive

i don’t need no informants
playing mentee won’t mend me
i’m torn sufficiently
far as i can see, it seems

don’t mentor she who beseeches
by way of screams and screeches
me and my strings are beat
by ****** and needless needles’
stitches and ventures heedless

i’m piecing my torn fabric
it’s grown so thick
it’s a feat, recognition
when simple addition alters
fact into fabrication

like my elation
in inebriation
guards sorrow
from knocking at my door
knocks my guard down
and has me floored

it hits my inhibition too
and i’m home-free
no guilt signaling
and i pull singles
i switch with tickets
i use to ticket my skin

no appointment
nor disappointment
walking in walk-in clinics
and sketchy shops
flickering the light
it sheds on both
my faces. i can face them
only with this double vision

i watch mark
as his sketches mark me
like stretch marks,
remarkably

in hopes of realizing on the double
the vision i envision into reality
he lets me let him put his hands on me
seemingly steadily
and we feel as our arms stretch

he draws me in
fills me ink
and vibrant me pends
his vibrating steel
and sharp pens
as they liven
my limp existence
reincarnating me instantly  

after sweet sleep
i wake bitter for some reason
feel dull but also sharp-ied
peeping the nonsense i let seep steeply
into my skin last night when i was peaking

now i can reminisce
on the pain of squirming
wallow over it instead, and
not the overflown gore of streams

and catastrophic waterfalls
that break through my largest *****'s walls
they leave what makes me, me,
with breakthroughs of which it can only dream

if only i can fall like the tears asleep
that crash and wave and overshadow my role
in turn leaving without desire
to turn over no stone
nor use any for stepping on
like the ones more close to normal
do coax

i do it all wrong
like they did me
i walk on coal
though from here
it appears
as though i'm an anomaly
only my sole seethes

when on the rocks
my walker, he makes me so strong
he lets me drink him from dusk to dawn  
he says he’d **** for me from here on
i love how foreign i am to him like heron

not the bird though it’s true
us three often see hues blue
we soar blue skies when our hearts fume blue
and they feel too sore like brews do
when they're too soft to heal each bruise or
make room for pain to grow and strength to bloom
so i walk on water as walker

kills me
he’s to die for
imploring in notes low
that i not stop, so i hop on
and once it’s well thought over
he can tell
overthinking’s my problem

i stand alone in the corner,
my core knows
all my o’s and woes
can be all gone
once one o centerfolds corner
and in comes the
coroner

who walks and rear-ends me
and e-r lose hope and leave me
when he cores me from his soul
and i let my breath roam

but he sends me
soaring over the moon
soon as he shows how he listens
and soon we both know
blinding luminescence

my eyes when they glisten
make all my mourning go missing
like the overthinking overkill
i hit when morning rays missile

and he curtails them at curtains
blacker than the blacklist
my man drenched
my nemesis in
deep sleep
with the fishes  

eventually, however
again and against my will, i endeavor
on reading the biography i penned
block my own writing
and let writers block lock me in
i get stuck on the same page
thought no force impedes
the power i home in my palms
nor my thumb's ability to thumb
through the page
yet i somehow flip it
and become my own victim

i did it.
it tells the history of tears
now extinct due to me overbearing
leading to drainage that came as
the very last bead beat me
for forbidding fibs
and calling dibs on *******

still, ringing in my ears
leaks empathy
for crocodile tears
trickling
as they salivate
over their next meal,
me

i swallow my tongue
not realizing fully
i’d just had my last meal
because they consumed me
quietly
with quibbles
and plots of consuming me
openly

ignorance is less so whats lacks
and with no inkling of doubt
worse in terms of that
which the mind keeps
then refuses to release
when need be
hence: me

after i head over
obvious traps
i let flash
atop my head

like clouds overcast
i’m convinced i tripped
on my own heels
like thunder that strikes
one man down twice
out of spite

but in spite
of everything, now that i know,
my eyes and i are drained no more
see, we’ve ever since grown more so
and metamorphosed
beyond words morbid

like those i anticipate
my gravestone
will go on
to hold

this is the reality of being kept cold-cut as meat
that heads *******, idiots, dunces, cons, and so on
those who bring forth obstacles that spurt in growth
inch by inch quicker than their thickening skulls

each time
the sage i pick thinks
my life needs spicing up, either
my screams of agony are mistaken
and my inseams nipped at the bud

or my spirits appear uplifted
and mistaken are my sorrow-filled tears
with joy-plagued wails,
each time
deep-seated sage seeds **** my green

lord knows that while i understand—to some degree
the world can’t come close or know what brews
in the disorganized chaos that is me intrinsically
i don’t fib when i allege that my angle isn’t deceit

nor right, necessarily
just dense as these
basins, wrinkles and dents
my tense cortex insists on heaving  

it would be obtuse of me
to anticipate that anybody
would watch my back
if not mine and me

it's all only a tactic
and i may feign obliviousness
to support this spinelessness
and keep it all in tact

insects fester
i feel each tentacle
extend incessantly
like these rants

they all ax my lumbar
no one's barred from my club
lumberjacks and jack’s slumber
i only lust after the latter

and jack's not all bad
he’s why my caps rested
soon as he hands it to me,
expressing the extent to which

i impress him
granted
my hands-off approach
that manages
to get hard jobs done
better than jills before

he’s a mild nuisance
when one of us isn’t speaking
but he promotes my irritability
with his attempts at weaving
our fingers together

it offends me
and all i long for
is knocking him out
like him and my neck's heart

or my kneecaps’ kneepads
the cap that’s my hat
can at last roll fast,
though no one should ask

i can’t say if i’m ok
jack ko’d my voice box
and i feel highjacked
but i insist, they insist
on the charm of the third

one i get him
like the lights, off,
that’s when i go on to hop off
tip toe off his tip top to get off
on the silence my mind writes off

none of it matters to me
mankind ramps up my love for luxury
the ivory warmth Mr. Browns rain
all over my cold windshield
puts me where i love to be

without them,
antidepressants
would depress and hail on
but their chocolate depressants
elevate me and i hail mary
when they hail hope on me
and i'm newly merry

when it’s all over,
i seek refuge and rush down
and on to the one and only John
where rest can be found
he’s bold as kohl and cold
as his marble floors call for

it's he who keeps my thoughts snowed in
and spares my teeth cracks no dentures can fix
suppresses my urge to purge like Snowden honing in
on how not one man cares less for one careless node in
systems nor the cancerous danger of no protests nor dents

it’s tasteless, the rice that is humanity
so i dine solitarily
in solemn grief
seeing the uselessness we
as crumbs and morsels have come to be

individuals in division
invincible in coalescence
bound to form solid solidarity
likely as the moment

satan and saint agree
to raise their satin
black and white flags,
respectively

to enwrap
two into
one
fabric. silky, smooth, seamless
as is the cocoon
          i once was foolish enough to assume
    would secure the very same wholesome skin
                         it would later go on
to help me consume.

cannibalism.
425 · Jun 2016
sun of adam
absinthe Jun 2016
a son of adam
disguised as satan
was the wise man
who once advised me
when i asked him
i'm frightened, see,
i see demons nightly
i'm so scared
of the monsters when
they come to haunt me.
aren't you relating to
what you hear from me?
is there a god above us, absinthe?
yes
is he who made the sun, and
does he protect believers?
yes
so when the daytime leaves us
does he abandon children
because his sun is sleeping?
no

but what about us daughters,
Father
because the sun seems partial
to the Sons of Adam
411 · Apr 2016
broken umbrellas
absinthe Apr 2016
when you are lost and doors are closed, run
to those who spare voices and spread arms  
because empty words leave gaping holes
and broaden the void consuming your whole

but they are umbrellas that shield you from
the acid rain that defaces your face

they never use you,
only their arms

they never leave you,
only armed

always
unharmed

- end
395 · Apr 2016
too weak to admit it
absinthe Apr 2016
admitting weakness is true strength.
392 · Feb 2017
mad
absinthe Feb 2017
mad
it’s all a haze
i hope it’s just a phase
though these winter days
don’t feel the same.

i can’t ignore
the overwhelming way
i
miss
you.

the only thing containing me
is my eyes as they're rolling back
to see the silly name i gave you
when we were we
top the list of my
messenger’s screen

i’m certain i’m insane.

and certainly, i
would see no sanity
to claim vanity
in my extinct ability
to up and leave
i can’t leave

you.

so i only ask
you to stop
topping the list
my currently
rolling eyes
if they could see

would wish
they couldn't

see.
382 · Jun 2016
backbone
absinthe Jun 2016
i ran for days
broke my back along the way
twisted my neck
became spineless
but i don't care

i let my mind race
and felt my nerves break
now they keep me awake
but i don't care

i asked you to be my backbone
i hate you for walking away
i need my back brace
now i have no support

then i thought about my waist
and the aches
and the resilient body
holding my head high

if only i knew
how to be my own backbone
like the spine that holds me
and lets me walk
and supports me

maybe then
i would care

about me

- end
378 · Dec 2018
addictionaries
absinthe Dec 2018
bored in a beautiful palace
with waterfalls and hands uncalloused
was a bystander when it all happened
and in their happiness
they struggle to understand
me
hapless
377 · Jan 6
français
absinthe Jan 6
you don’t get me
so you don’t get me
my knowledge of you
is barely rudimentary
and rue is a two way street

why did you beget me
only to regret me
forsake me
for your sake
i beg you

forget me
forget me
373 · Dec 2016
this feeling
absinthe Dec 2016
right
about here is
when it turns clear. that
yes, the idea
of making three lefts
just to pay respects
to inanimate specks
like pavements
concrete on their stances
signs and flashes
there on the corner
like soldiers
or liquor stores
or my man--
hands black as he stands at
one-directional streets
now and again
but the
vanity
    comedy
fury
ultimate
insanity
don't change the fact that
we all know some acts
of mine are wholesome
on your behalf and
         his behalf
yet you’re all still driving
thin paths
mule-blinders on
almost narrowed my vision too
in tunnels
almost slew them
as collateral
damage
dimming
yet somehow
you still have the audacity
to turn around and look at

          me

bewildered?
though when i think
i give it thorough thought
it seems i see you
headed

right,
   and right,
and right again

so instead,
last time,
in desperate attempt
i veered
causing chaos
when i went;
left.

- end
366 · Mar 2016
battery
absinthe Mar 2016
whenever it frustrated me
the remote control
i'd smack it on the floor
       sometimes it worked
       never for long

i'd get more worked up
hit it then rip the plastic off
take the batteries out
replace them then try
to slide the cover back on

it'd displease me more
so i'd repeat my first approach
they say don’t fix it if it ain’t broke
so i'd smack it harder on the floor  
that's when you'd step in to let me know
                      honey, nothing ever comes by  force
                      you have to learn how it works first before
                      taking action or using your fist impulsively
                      otherwise you’re likely to cause more harm than    
                      harmony

that moment was                 remote
unlike your love for control
that shows most whenever

                      i frustrate you and you
                              smack
                                 me
                           on the floor

- end
353 · Jan 20
his-trionic
absinthe Jan 20
down on my knees.
i could be praying here.
instead
i’m preying on beasts
who prey on me.

pray for me

i’m in too deep.
drowning
in knee-deep tears
not nearly
as shallow as me.
341 · Sep 2016
and i refuse to swim.
absinthe Sep 2016
here i sit
flask in hand
swigs can mask until
they can't
    i found myself
lost
at sea
sinking in my seat
remembering
how i'd fall back
in line with the
             b
       r        o
                  k
          en
children--
how i'd chant
count down in silence
   inch by inch
   face to face
with myself

how in arms we fight
and how it's armed with
my weakness
how its dark abyss
and how it
whispers afflictions
its armed itself
with their words
reflected
and in one breath
we harmonize
i need fixing

so i fixate
on these images
my eyes project
and reflect on
how i'm nothing

but a byproduct
of a pair of
broken white wings
with intentions
that contrast
their execution
they're so
toxic
so...
               perfectly
        mis
              matched
and as the toxins swinging
inside of me
take full advantage
of my churning gut
feeling it out
as if it's a hammock...
i have

full intentions
of swinging swigs
till i can't stomach
thoughts of obeying
my severed gut's instincts
every day
they lure me closer
to the edge of the cliff

and i have
full
intentions
of
swishing swigs
till the body-wide search
for my humanity
is abandoned
and i can finally live
and
the sound
of my own screams
can no longer
be heard.
because they're
being drowned
brutally
but ever so eloquently
in comparison
to how i'm drowning
myself
in swigs.
absinthe Feb 2016
low • self–es•teem | \ˈlō\ˈself-ə-ˈstēm\ | (abbr.: Rx)
(n.)
1 the act of rejecting yourself before anyone beats you (to it).
2 the result of refusing your worth before anyone adds “-less” at the end:           i am worthless.
                                                     ­                                                 <ORIGIN>  fear.

the moment we give
anything value
we agree
to fight for it;
to give up
anything
for it

but i have no shame
i value nothing
i forfeit long ago
i admitted it
i gave up
i have no fight
left in this
shameful
little petite body
that’s mine

the anger
stopped
the day

i
accepted
defeat

some call it denial
others, rejection
call it what you will

i
call it
dependence
on the
chemical reaction
sitting in the
beautiful
little medicine cabinet
that's mine.

- end
337 · Mar 2016
now i swallow my tongue
absinthe Mar 2016
mother and father speak french
each with different dialects
they cause misunderstandings

big brother speaks greek
little brother, turkish
they might as well be strangers

i speak Jin (Chinese)
in my own home i live
with foureign members

the barrier between us causes battles
as if we were calloused enemies
all i wanted was to live in peace

so i went on to learn french dialects, two
greek and turkish, to(o)
promote room for healthy growth

i stood outside its door
looked down at my two feet and saw
a doormat reading "communication"

i had to step on it
so i could take a step forward
the worst part was seeing
foureigners uniting
to fight a common ene(me)
but i was determined
i though peace worked
so i worked for peace

but now i dread the trip home each night
and still i drive to a foreign land
till one day i jumped over the mat

and into the room to see
new embroidery on the wall
ever so eloquently reading

"make war not love"
in Jin (Chinese).

- end
336 · Apr 2016
whore
absinthe Apr 2016
i'm not scared of men with dark skin
creeping alleyways at night when they're vacant
i lose no sleep over masked liquor store strangers
or women we call ****** limping
lifelessly with red knees
feeling low and ever so shameful

you would feel the same way
your world would be rearranged

but you've never felt a ghost's haunts years later
yesterday is today, it still creeps your alleyways when you're vacant
and you've forgetten what sleep is yet somehow remember you need it
and it's the reason you and liquor stores never were strangers
they make it easy when you ***** around if only to convince yourself  
that women really just never were your thing

and that at least today you're limping
lifelessly with red knees feeling
low but never as shameful

- end
323 · Nov 2017
my existence
absinthe Nov 2017
i can feel the crazy kicking in
kissing scrapes
my victim's suffering
scared shitless
shivering
splitting
like time
circling
around me
like rings of sharks
coming back
at once
for seconds

the ends of my hairs
are second guessing
their ends
like i do mine so often
wondering when
it’ll finally happen. extinction
the extent of my right
to expedite its presence
and whether i’ll be alright
feeling cheated
and leveled
knowing there’s no
hell
but there’s also
no heaven.
305 · Feb 2016
are you insignificant?
absinthe Feb 2016
you are one puzzle piece 
out of ten thousand others 
all linking arms
with adjacent neighbors 
you are missing—
absent-
minded and worthless
you are insignificant 

you are weak-minded
they have others
filling their crevices
each indifferent
to your presence
oblivious as to who you are 
or what you look like
you are stressing
that no one misses  
one tiny little piece 
among thousands of others
isolated and self-centered
too 
absent-
minded you have decided
that
you are insignificant 

i come in and
look at the bigger picture
but i am puzzled 
i can’t get past something  
nine thousand nine hundred 
and ninety-nine others 
but all i can see is
a picture so big
yet worth so little 
without you

- end
304 · Jul 2017
father
absinthe Jul 2017
forgive me
you're why i am
and too beat
to be
me
so wrong to compete
i'm so lost
incomplete
and completely unclear
as to why i sit
upright
uptight
in this filthy seat
like i have
this past year
                    daddy
please
tell me
why won’t
my feet lead
to where they say
the heart beats

and help me see
how it is
that i can
count infinitely
the steps between
home and me
and simultaneously hear
in the depths
of my chest
this pounding  
when i am
as heartless
as i have been
made out to be
what then
could it
possibly be

- end
absinthe Mar 2016
dear father,

remember when i was tender-hearted
and small enough to sit on your lap?
we'd watch the pink panther
and you'd keep laughing

distracted
down to earth
and happy

do you remember that, dad?

well, while you laughed
and sat me on your lap
you'd watch pink panther
and i'd watch you and i'd be

distracted
high in clouds
and happy

to sit on the lap of the pink stone that was...

distracted
down to earth
and happy

...my daddy

-end
absinthe Aug 24
hey friend,

remember, when the wound
was more fresh
than the in-season blood-red
fruit wet on my flesh

it’s five fifty-two
and i’m here
where the sky’s blue
is premature
and the moon’s gone
too soon
stuck with jail cells
for brain cells

with and without you.
274 · Aug 2017
high vices with high prices
absinthe Aug 2017
i lie to him
he lies to me
side by side we lie
till i fall asleep
and he leaves

he always knows
never to come over
unless i need to heal
after his hands beat me
but better yet
he always knows
to leave when it's all over

so when the sky turned over
as did i when i rolled up
so lonesome and more broken
and less so because this morning
i had his rough hands controlling
my thoughts to claim i caused it

i hold them both to console us
and all fours know that i'm sordid
i hear him calling my phone
his tone shows me he's been gone

my nightstand dead men
show me it's over
and now i can't lie
or stand being sober
271 · Jul 2016
low-end
absinthe Jul 2016
behold
the shackles
my knuckles
fiend for.

ghosts i see
inhale me deep
they never let me
go to sleep

still im stealing--i'm a thief
the beast feasting
between my thighs
muffles my cries.

as it tells tales,
juvenile

wholesome before
fearful, seldom
moving forward

my bedspread
kicks me to couches
on grounds of love
that splinter
like my bored head,
backwards

still they’re stealing
myself from me
demons veiled, they're
feeding my lies
they make me vile

and years go by
i’m alive
fearful before
fearless--now i
can reign pawns

lo and
behold
the muzzles
my morals
adorn.

thoughts...
they seethe

put me at ease,
i never let them
go of me.
no one's stealing
my sins from me

eerie cries call
as moonshine dies
(they)
bring me to life
and for moments
juvenile

i'm numb no more,
fearsome
of none
but the morn

lo and
behold
the shackles my knuckles
fiend for

ghosts
i see
inhale me deep
they

never let me
never let me
never let me go
                       to
                       sleep.
269 · Nov 2016
scissorhands
absinthe Nov 2016
i incarcerated my favorite
hummingbird
i okayed it.
i entitled myself to confine it
in calloused cages

but it no longer flies
and it won't sing
my humdrum
hummingbird
has failed me

i pried open its gate
it insisted on insulting my pride
it estranged me when
it stayed in its place
placid as the melodies
it no longer hums or plays

it mocks me--
my existence
like the world did
till i persevered
now nothing affects me

but this thing...
this feeble thing
thinks it can challenge me?
i doubt its persistence
and if nothing else,

i'm confident
in its clipped wings

- end
267 · Mar 2016
the highest of them all
absinthe Mar 2016
to build an edifice
from the ground, up
you have to dig at first
from the ground, down

we marvel at skyscrapers

we break our necks for them
they supersede white clouds
the higher up they rise
the lower down they’ve been

that's why you marvel at me

- end
265 · Mar 2016
time is an illusionist
absinthe Mar 2016
two years ago
i picked up a book of poetry
i turned each page carefully

two hours ago
i picked it up again
i read its words slowly

i have never seen this book before

- end
264 · Jan 2017
bedside manor
absinthe Jan 2017
i asked him where my medicine was
“it’s on your side of the bed"
and suddenly i remembered you
after i had tried so hard
and let in hard
and played hard
and played hard
all i could do
was think about your comforter
and the comfort your words offered
how they comfort her still
when she’s weak and she lets you in
and hard that's softened leaves
even in your absence
imagine…  

the power of your presence to me then

she says she's sorry for my loss
though i’m sorry and i'm not
simultaneously
that she seems not to know
that what i lost was her
but she didn't leave me…
not forever at least…
at least that’s what i hear
my inner monologue speak
when i feel feeble and
i dread waking because it means
i'll have to keep my head above sea
and my true thoughts at bay
and i'll have to swim against the wave
because instinctively i don't give in
and as much as i would **** for you
i won't die because i let them drench me,
till i let the tide consume me
when i ensure that you're
the last image i see
follow me closely,
my tailgating tears

after you, i went to the doctor’s
i thought they were supposed to help
but they had me sat in that waiting room
for too, too long. almost as though they knew
of the last time you sat in the seat
i’m now writing these words on
penned poetry, just like me
you’re not here
and i'm feeling
sad and nostalgic
boxing out
fist fighting
violently resisting
even the slightest semblance of hope
my cruel mind tries to grant entrance

because i’ve been there before
and though they draw comparisons
between my knack of gathering information
that’s not mine to have and felines,
this is the exception
everything has one
and i'm cashing in
ignorance is bliss
it's never made more sense

i felt relieved as i sank at the shrink’s love seat

though i could also feel
the heart you’d enlarged
shrink in me
i couldn’t tell you anything about
our talk if i tried
for the life of me
i was too busy thanking time
for getting me away
from the waiting room
before i slipped away
and got it away from me

i started seeing people like this
you know them,
i was fathered by one who somewhat resembled them
the ones with a bunch of acronyms
listed next to the names their parents
gifted them. it’s saddening.
they’re all the same, robots
rinse
repeat
rinse
repeat
you’d have agreed with me

i guess i’m a hypocrite, though
i always knew little brother was right all along
i always denied the fact that a word that simple
could arouse defenses so complex
so as to divert my attentiveness
from the major setback at hand
aim, grimace, and flick metal at
the innocent fawn whose only wrong
was looking at me for long
enough so for me to see my reflection in
his ******* eyes
but i admit now, yes, i am.
a hypocrite.
because here i am,
collaborating
and manipulating the manipulators
to try to bring her back
because she was so happy
and ever since she left
you fled the negativity
and i don't blame you
that's why i use them
since they'll do me the same
regardless, as it’s a two-way street
i know they know what they're doing
when they hand me pills
in childproof bottles
my naïve questions
are enough "indicators" for them

and i play along
because that's what children do
and i make it seems as though i’ve just learned something new

like walking
and taking deep breaths
and loving sunny days
and life vests
and you

sometimes i get answers but never a handshake
not until we’ve zero'd it all out
by exchanging
pluses in bank accounts with negative NA motifs
at least i know, it’s all a game
and i like those a lot, you know.
you're the only one who really saw the child in me
she's been hiding for years.
shy...but instead of mocking nature
you made her feel how any little girl should feel.
so i win, because it’s all
about winning—my flaw, i know
acting like i know it all too
when i feel like i do
because i don’t claim
to retain
information
i never cultivate.

i drove home—or wherever the hell  
take it as a figure of speech
i’ve never really had that
not in my heart, at least
except with you
and thats all that matters most

like you said to me on the balcony
mama told me all that matters
is her sun
his heart
his soul
and the one
he chooses to sleep
next to each night
faithfully
her sun
his heart
his soul.
not wallet
nor abode
just.
those.

so here i am
sat, placid
apathetic
pathetic

reading him long before
he knew what he
was fixing to do
and i thought of you
so i walked to the room
sinking steeply
thinking deeply
sprinting wouldn't be
fast enough if it could be
that i could outrun
thoughts of a memory
because if that was you
and i’d seen your intentions
long before your own self
the influx of dopamine that would
flood my head
would’ve never driven me
to waiting rooms
in the doctor’s office
but reality is reality
as philosophers would agree

and i am me

though i’m unsure
as to what they’d say here

on my way to "my" side of the bed
right before I swallowed it
one more day out of thirty
pieces of her heart
that somehow
ended up in this
little
orange
bottle
she left for me
all i could fixate on
was the fact
that we had no fixed rules
or obligations or tasks
how we could fall asleep
and wake as we pleased
how you'd rise early
to move my car for me
to save me the officer's money
that i now use to sit in this crook's office
for this orange bottle

remember how we had
dinner for breakfast
true conversations without
no need
to divert attention from any
awkwardness at hand
by stroking our hands
on each other instead
and no curfew
or house laws needless?

do you remember my favorite?
when laughed as if we
were best friends sat by one another
in the classroom
struggling and breathless
because we weren’t allowed
to laugh that’s exactly what
made us red—what we can’t have

remember when we talked about assigned bedsides
the silliness of the notion because, besides,
once the electric shock seizes us and we fall
asleep in each others arms and hearts
left and right would merely do right
side by side just like
how our hearts and
words and bodies and brains
and all that makes us human
did

pure perfection.

you used to move me to the core
when you'd pull me in more
with those strong arms of yours
every time you sensed how on edge i am
and what i wouldn't give now
for that set side of the bed, left, right
that we had mocked as silliness

you’re the only thing
i wouldn’t give, if even
for the edge of your bed.
263 · May 2017
enarmored
absinthe May 2017
our masked master
has manipulated us masses
maneuvered its path in our minds' wires
mismatched them
and the only tool it uses is language.

when we hear its ring and rhyme
in voices we think are customized
as we vacillate with the waves place us
in elation--a space where we are stars
and even Eden's leads don't succeed
in leaving us or similar sheep
anywhere near
a state of such satisfaction.

so we pass it and overlook action
subject ourselves and check out our self-respect
to the delinquent library members
we subjectively deem handsome

the truth is never not vile
double minus signs.

but math has all the answers.
falling
+
overlooking
=
disaster

it can all be dismantled
but it told us
what it wants in regards to what we want
and our demands are instantaneously met
its compliance made us believe again
and we embark on a trip to power
seizing all that which we can
with its allowance

because of it, now we have
everything we
need
and
want
and
love

and we used to think with regard
but since it used us
it's our own thoughts we disregard
if we could recall the ones we had before
would we opt to head for similarly travelled roads
where we are both patriots and xenophobes

all moot notes
none of my words mule votes
it told us to, so we are
why should we try
if even our lazy minds compartmentalize
to save time as if we have lives
as opposed to its lies
all the while, it sees the truth

we keep the negatives boxed in
the truth is never not vile
double minus signs.

the clarity of our psyche
and the level of our blind intertwine
we used to drive but now why
when we have it to steer
as we sit obliviously
as it delivers
sip vials
give more homes and less lives
to our livers
breathe and supply loads of hope
when we clip loose weeds from the streets
and into our corrupt, vial-ridden systems
where our lungs are filthy prisons.

we can't see how crippled we are visually
because it's what we want
and feelings aren't things our eyes perceive
it can't be

we aren't who we want to be
only who we want it
to want us to believe
so we can hold on to the pass
all victims receive

without it
we would not want it
or want
or be.

love,
love.

- end
262 · Apr 2016
deathbeds
absinthe Apr 2016
do you know
why babies scream
soon as their lungs
begin to breathe?

could you tell me
why old men smile
lying on deathbeds
exhaling life?

i think we gasp as
soon as we leave
our sole protection
that's when some of us
inhale hard, some
harder than others
and from then on
depending on
how much we let
into our lungs
we spend our lives
exhaling slowly
for days on end

until the end  
when we find ourselves
lying on deathbeds

we scream no more
no,
we smile instead
exhaling faster
because we know
we have nothing
to fear in life

after death.

- end
absinthe Mar 2016
eighty-five
pounds ago, mother told me the secret
to losing it just like she did—the weight, that is
she let me know at eight that a low number on the scale
does equate beauty, that less is more

it’s simple, really, she’d say to me,
i felt disgusting, it got out of hand, trust me
i’d have snipped my skin had i no other option
i’d have shed my flesh had i not had ten fingers

so i frequented that room down the hall for some rest
felt as cascades filled my larynx with emptiness
i'd get high afterwards having thrown every throe up
the smaller the waist/waste, the more waste i’d throw up
and i loved it...

so i'd insist and press my gag-reflex harder just to test it
then savor (the way) the reverse acid-flavored after-taste(d)  
i frequented that shared room down the hall everyday for my next fix
to compuke the total sum of endless time plus ten long fingers
and i loved it...

see, there’s nothing quite as indicative of progress as is
seeing your handmade artwork (sink) in marble canvasses

there’s just one problem
i still feel disgusted today but with
just one difference

the s(kin) i wish to shed is on you and you’re my extension
i’d hate to skin my flesh but what options have you left over?
i(’ m)ean, the key to losing leftover's at your fingertips

eight*y-five
pounds later, i told mother how right she was
i *do
love the emptiness, particularly when i'm
in ninety-degree summers and i feel cooler (lean)ing
at ninety-degrees trying hard to find the right angle
for kissing the hard marble my tongue hangs out for with hunger

there’s just one difference
i feel disgusting, i’m just like _
but there’s just one problem

i’m addicted to hitting my speed bag, it has me boxed in
it was in my stomach at first but then it started spreading
like vicious late-stage cancer with its victims, i feel livid
and now my stomach’s sinking and i can feel it turning
upside-down but it’s not the acid or toxicity
or the stress ulcers or my self-disappointment with me  

that today make me puke
my problem, to speak the whole truth
is that it’s not me
mother, it’s _


- end -
250 · Feb 2017
180º[f]
absinthe Feb 2017
i find it unnecessary
to exchange mixtures of letters
with the receiver i once did see me
engaging in foreseen endeavors with
but history tore me and we  

though i now retract
exceptions are had
such as
when i choose to detract
the warmth i had way back
in the past
when our fire did not brand
but did attract
us to one another
not like now
and how it knows
how to protract
to engulf us
to turn good
into bad

i release resistant exhales
and doubt
on newfound callousness i once could
reroute
only when allowed by a sizable
payout
even if along the way

it cracks

the heart
i once had

and the heart
i once had
sworn
on my life
to pass
for
before

i
let it
pass.
absinthe Feb 2016
i'd tell 8 year old me
that she is strong
and that right is never
ever
wrong
i’d save her (from a) life  
catch her nightmares
and her plagued thoughts
her daily mournings  
and high mornings
and her struggles
in reminiscing
and fixating
over little clothes
she used to own
o n e  d i s t a n t  d a y
in a land far
                      far
                           far
away
that were once like her
free
and free
of stains

- end
245 · Mar 2016
a thank you note
absinthe Mar 2016
dear calamities,

thank you for whipping me with leather belts,
they left but i still beat myself

thank you for tearing my family apart,
they left but my flesh's still sitting behind bars

and thank you for all the times you broke my heart
they left but i'm still sitting behind bars

cheers,
absinthe

p.s. i'd be blind without your darkness
243 · Mar 2016
you and i and lucky strikes
absinthe Mar 2016
i'm running out of cigarettes from the pack you bought me
back when our spark was lit, when fate set us up so cruelly
and i said i’m running out of breath

they were lucky strikes, the mad men type, unfiltered
would it make sense otherwise?
isn't poison posing as poise still just as poisonous?

you always knew, my love--
--for cylinders. especially yours.
how fitting
i’d think,
that here i am with 21
of my favorite cylindrical things

for 21 months you asked for affection
for just as long you called me a savage  
so i'd caress your cheeks while telling you i love you--

--r beard and using my fingers to massage your head
and i love drowning you in my pillowed lips
as they secrete tender words and you savor as each one drips

you never knew, my love--
--for silver tongues like yours, how i fall hard but stop,
adding bricks to my thickening walls
i hate feeling soft as the pack of lucky strikes
so i smother you with the same pillows i'd used earlier to drench you
in tender words, just so i can detach my heart from your head

i know only savages make everything carnal, all skin, all flesh
still, glands of mine manage to seal your eyes shut as i run
with the rivers that pulsate your neck with my tongue

i have no problem being explicit, i'll scream your name  
i'll moan it as i vocalize my innermost physical thoughts
i mean it when my eyes roll back and i whimper you turn me on

still everyday, maybe two at most
you drive hours, hours for me...back and forth
to share with me how much you don’t want to share me
with anyone. but the prospect of falling for you when i can’t manage
falling for myself leaves me so anxious, so i distract you instead
by gazing into your eyes, using those pillows of mine to seal yours shut

all the while secretly wishing i was warm as your white wine
that i can always find whenever i dine on you because you pair it for me,
and you pour more on me means the more i whine for you when i feast

still, you insist, and say to me
the way you smoke and your cutthroat cheekbones
dimples and long fingers, wide smile and white teeth
i want you to feel me, i wanted you physically
but now i want everything you want to give to me
i want you to marry me...why won't your eyes gleam?

let me satisfy you just like you
do me
with an influx of dopamine

if i OD just promise you'll remember me, your love
for ******* the life out of me, promise me you're clear
on my wish to sleep on your pillows only

let me bow down right here, right now, all you need
is to look down and see the strongest muscle in me
in you
let me seal your eyes shut, but how come they gleam
only when your savagely eyes stare right through me

he was perfect, i was the luckiest
he handed me 20 cylinders and himself
for a total of the nicest 21 months in me

he embodied everything i’d dreamt of back when i dreamt nicely
but my body knows what to do better than my mind ever could
and that's why i said to him i'm running out of breath

and thats when you disappeared into smoke
burning my lungs like the 20 cylinders you’d given me
how can i explain that i was as cold as i was
to ensure you'd maintain every ounce of your warmth
for the next girl who fate chooses to set you up with
cruelty-free this time, without testing you like animals, no savagery

what do i do now?
do i preserve only the best memories,
as if you’re deceased?
or do i wait anxiously,
as if you’re fighting overseas,
hoping one day you'll run back safely to me?

i'm running out of breath, i'm losing my balance i can’t fathom
the thought of you using another for comfort
i wish i knew how to vocalize my innermost thoughts
and i wish i knew how to stop loving lucky strikes
that all eventually burn into ashy smoke
but i can’t

i wish i didn’t have to change cigarette brands
the day you stopped holding my frozen blue hands
i wish i'd never ran out of you
i wish i could still light
my 21st lucky strike

- end
241 · Dec 2016
roundabouts
absinthe Dec 2016
like my vehicle's exterior
i keep chipping away
and my cuticles won't heal
and my sick beak won't let them be
and they seep the color of my machine
but the burgundy never hinders me
i'm distant, it's why

i'm so driven.

i get no brakes
my right sole estranged me
it's not just the outside
decaying slowly
it stopped stopping
at my ****** bedsheets
it's festering.
i'm still peeling
desperately
all because

i'm so driven.

i'm still trying
to get to a place
where i feel content
but i just learned,
it's nonexistent.
why the ****
didn't they tell me
why did no one spoil me
by ruining my hope eternally
when they reveal that
it lives exclusively
in tables of content
and children's fantasies?
nonetheless,

i'm so driven.

my grip on my path
and this steering wheel
in my hand
face insanity.
there's no stopping me.
we'll stand divided
when together we give up
using the weak, pressing
their skulls with our feet
giving audiences that all
resemble one another
the illusion of highness,
of mightiness,
and stature,
and elevation.
but the ones with the
goodness and pure intent
end up broken
incapacitated
decapitated
aphasic
like history X—
—sure, they've submitted
but it's long past due dates.
they'll give up inevitably
like their blinkers, for me
they'll burn out in solidarity
and i'll feel better,
i know

i'm so driven

we’re incapable of looking up
or seeing the sun
when united we're falling
we'll always be too busy
competing with others' grips on rocks
incapable of epiphanies like the fact
that facing catastrophes in unison
doesn't change the ultimate reality
that we face impending doom alone but

i’m
so
*******
driven

to drive others to the ground
to make us history
to draw x’s
and plant pennies on eyelids
we've let it blind us
social desirability
is a one-way street
to three times two feet
beneath roads unpaved

to catalyze the torturous process
and injustice and cruelty
i drop more of my pieces'
readers off in the same spot
as i find myself,
more
lost

maybe then they'll be
indifferent like me,
in denial, too,
certainly, then,
they'll attempt
speaking to skies
chanting hymns and psalms
and similar reaffirmations
any maybe then, they'll look to me
then we'll all sing in harmony
and

"i'm so driven”

will be music to my ears

and before i gasp
to fill my pink air sacs
with more gas,
i will let it be known
that i am to credit for
the eternal peace
the mortality
of the cancer
that is humanity
and united
and divided
we'll all stampede
and get tangled in our minds
in webs too thick
to pass for silk roads
and the only thing we'll know
is that we won’t be abandoned
once we tailgate our neighbors
that find themselves stuck
between rocks and hard places
and the only direction in sight
is the former, so they pray
take a leap of faith
and
off
  cli
    ff-
     ha
       ng
         e
          r
          s
          .
        . ¨. .
238 · Feb 2016
angels vs. queens
absinthe Feb 2016
selfish seated next to pure
how does evil lure demure
underserving, i am cruel 
a wildfire only one ruled

narcissistic, i saw snow
so i torched it, saw it glow
watched the torture, killed it slow
forced together, white and coal

hand in hand and as they melted
when things ended, i reacted 
if only i'd been forewarned
would’ve never fired that torch 

a refugee i fled for help
from war i'd waged against myself
when ceaseless thoughts of him intrude
i knew fate had picked my refuge

an Angel touched my hand 
he took from me my black
his wings lifted my sins 
he sensed my innocence 
rinsed clean my slate with his
for me he risked his wings 
saw my tears made them his

he is my tears
he protects me
offers relief 
he sustains me
unhesitating 
   made quiet my fire 
   he seized my fears
   saved me like tears
                                     he is my tears 
                                     he is my tears
i am pyrite, he is gold
in-fractions quartered my soul
so one tuesday night in june
i raised my weight up on a stool

pessimistic i sought sleep
sewed a tassle by my eulogy
blotched its ink as my eyes spewed
forced my neck into the noose

inhaled the last breath i’d hold
when in he rushed, my precious stone
if only he’d been forewarned
would’ve never touched fool’s gold

then an Angel touched my hand
he changed my jaded plans
his words exuded jewels
he sensed my dissonance
synced my dead breath with his
with jade greener than spring  
filled my lungs to the brim

as my eyes streamed in front of him
he swam dark seas and prized me with
faith i’d drowned cowardly in gin

he is my tears
he protects me
offers relief 
he sustains me
unhesitating 
   made quiet my fire 
   he seized my fears
   saved me like tears
                                     he is my tears 
                                     he is my tears
he kneels down by my knees, says he
wished he had his lens now to steal
this image his two lenses see 
the sky's iris crowning his queen

dilates my pupils as he speaks 
constrict-in vein when high i peek
see no bright stars can make me peak  
like sights of his smile just for me

seep fingertips deep in my wrist  
feel my heart racing, so i sprint 
hear its beats use my ears as drums
hymns his tears sang that day still haunt

i stole from him all but my tears 
he held my burden selflessly 
and as i robbed strides selfishly  
my faith fell back beneath my feet

he is my tears
he protects me
offers relief 
he sustains me
unhesitating 
   made quiet my fire 
   he seized my fears
   saved me like tears
                                     he is my tears 
                                     he is my tears
wish he could see 
that even when they kneel
     Angels                                              ­        
exceed queens.   

- end
238 · Apr 2017
curate me
absinthe Apr 2017
all i need is you and me
to rhythmically breathe
this chemistry

let the air release
the bliss i feel beneath
the deep pigments
that compose the skin tone
that is yours like me
when i am consoled
by you, my harmony

the figments of chaos
that barricade logic
from my
barren
    vacant
   mind
reassure me
as any talented sadist would
that my work is greater for
being for the greater good
...that i am far from good
for i far supersede
what all talented sadist
curators ever could

and if not for the poetry
your exhales hand
my mishandled ears
i wonder
if i would ever again
be able to feel.

- end
236 · Sep 2018
Untitled
absinthe Sep 2018
today i feel
particularly connected with
the plastic fake nail tip
that from its branch my hand disconnected
when it fell off of the bed with which it and i was blessed
the  days came and they went  
then the day came and they left
and my heart enraged felt neglect
like mine when they saved their own instead
and all that does change when chains react
is what the heart always felt
but the mind not yet accepted

and i set in ways with malice friends
took as so often do you
and us fools do by pride possessed
and watched them take what’s theirs as theft
sat meanwhile taking them for granted

and i too like it snapped and left an other half
scared half to death
and for the life of me
unhinged in my inability
to muster not
even one snake tear then again
ain’t these i see here
the same eyes with which she
summoned her last breath
begging me for help

i’ll take a life with slow death
waiting ahead at every bend
over this death
of a head
mine
wet with regret
234 · Mar 2016
b day
absinthe Mar 2016
dear b,

i haven't written about you in a while
my white paper hasn't seen black ink in a while

i wonder if i should get it over with
speed the ball up
my head is rolling head-on
in the direction of storms
any way
i wonder if you still think about me

   do you still love me?


i catch myself laughing sometimes
but my tailgating tears never leave
me enough time when they crash into me
it feels like treason whenever i reveal my teeth
to anyone except you, b
i'd trade them all for you in a
heartbeat, if my heart beat

i wish my tears would stop
holding memories in each drop
like when we'd
share sore stomachs
and teary eyes
for all the right reasons
not for reasons like mine
from too much laughter
and not enough sleep
and junk food
and bad tv
and midnight 7-11 runs
and smoke breaks
and made up words
and
i can keep going
just like my tear ducts
i wish the void you'd left me
was in my tear ducts
i’ve even turned to black
just to feel like you and
we feel
    so
weak
i need you here with me
i feel my insides churn
i keep withdrawing
i wish b was for black
then the pain would make sense
i'm even crying as i write this, b
maybe this is the only way
at least that’s what they all say
but i can't help but think of you alone
in that lifeless room

just please promise me
you'll come back one day
i’m growing
impatient, b
why won't i stop bleeding
but it's ok, b
i don’t mind waiting
for you i’d wait more
if there was more than
eternity

sincerely,
your biggest enemy
230 · Mar 2016
self-fulfilling prophecy
absinthe Mar 2016
force me to fear you
just like you fear ghosts

but i fear for you

for when i cross worlds
i'll be what you fear most

that's how ghosts are born

- end
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