night can always be felt

by how heavy my heart
trudges through the left side of my body

by the lack of people
to connect to

by the amount of liquid numbness
******* my soul

by what type of loathing
my eyes decide to find focus on

by the levels of regret
raising like steam from my chest

resistance to change is consistent
with the unknown comes
the anxiety, the fear
imbedded in human nature
found at the corner of each turn yet
refused at each glance

I feel the whisky stains
on both of my cheeks sitting in 1B
he gave me my shot in a martini glass
apparently on Wednesdays at 10 am
people have better things to do
he figured I was afraid of heights
the irony of alcoholism

with the trillions of micro thoughts
and subconscious nonsense
realness sometimes squeezes through
mostly things like
tall grass in the wind
even at the center of a runway
will make me feel at home
more than anything else could
just for a fraction of a second
why can't that be enough?
for a fraction of a second
it is

I erase you
Over and over
Word after word
Then start again
Unhealthily
With the other end
Of the pencil
The only thing
I know I don't need
Is the only thing
I know I'll never leave
The only thing
I know I need
Is for the pencil
To run out of lead

he melodically sings (in)di(difference)stance
in every instant I attempt
to make him listen
while he knowingly stretches
all I have tried not to hope for
wires heat, then bend
& never are the same
again

when it comes to the point of not even wanting to consume but suddenly that liquid is a river

there is no escape when each day gains another loss

I want to ****** my heart in hand out the window, allow the force of wind to flow through each chamber and recycle the hurt into fresh air to see me through another day with him

for what

together we've mastered it

he, the artist of acting and
I, the priestess of pretending

the character who plays a part
of your own creation
pulled from the songs you sing
and the movies you've seen
no question now
an important role
in your imagination
appearing when applicable
ignorant of amicable
completely lacking
in empathetic means of relating
for an illusion will never be real

what the **** am I doing
and for how long
at what cost

stuck in all the unfulfilling
seeking the familiar under
every tombstone named "past"

if I met you now
I'd turn the **** around

a clouded aggression
a power
matching your fingers
stuck to my hips
reminiscent of disg(L)ust
what's the difference?

when you lick others
inside your head
the perfect dementia
of who you see unmarked
all ready for you
really the ones
who will never see you

keep me around
here is a fantasy
having absolutely nothing to do
with me