Ana speaks to the ones who listen
a fallacy of fictional happiness
a gamekeeper of your life
she secretly kills you
keeping you alive with the hopes that one day you might get want you've always wanted
to be thin
you die
Ana lives
tormenting always
Ana never dies

a few miniscule sips turned to gulps.
gulps gradually turned to chugs.
chugs turned to *****.
still you werent sober.
still you grabbed your keys and got into your car.
15 miles per hour turned to 30.
30 turned to 50.
Stop lights turned to red.
Stop signs became mere red dots flashing the canvas of your peripheral vision.
nothing could slow you down.
nothing could tell the car awaiting the next turn, that you were coming.
you were coming and you werent stopping.
faster!faster! a lead foot on the gas pedal.
closer! closer!
BAM!
lives instantly taken.
fun turned to hell.
living turned to dead.
lesson learned?

Downfall.
scrapping knees on concrete.
head slammed hard into fist.
muscles ache.
eyes grow tired.
limbs swell.
lips bleed.
tears fall.
you win.

a dust blows in the wind.
that which of many bodies burned and broken.
I inhale.
ashes crowd my mouth and i am no longer alone.
I am with the many who died that day.
Families  search for loved ones in the ruins.
I carelessly breathe them in.
they are returned to the world through my tears.
Cloudy tears stream my face as i think.
Dust covers my face, as i watch people fall from the sky.
Are they living? Are they alive?
Running people trampled looking for shelter.
I think of the planes.
The people on them, and the fate they soon would encounter.
I sheild my face for fear of recognition, that one may cry with me.
The smell of burning flesh and gasoline fills my nostrils, i can not breathe.
I gasp for air.
Connected through burning bodies, tumbling buildings, and falling limp corpses.
A connection so deep, we fear the day.
A day when we remember.
A day when the nation changed.
A day that will haunt us forever.

I want you.
She has you.
I want to talk to you.
She talks to you.
I say your name.
She says it louder.
You say Im pretty.
You say shes beautiful.
You take a picture with me.
You create and album with her.
I try to tell you.
She covers your ears.
I pull you in.
She pulls you away.
You pick her.

If I could get a tattoo
it obviously would not be of  you
you already scarred me deeper than any needle and ink ever could.
unknowingly etching your future into mine,
thats not what I want.
the removal process would take too long,
years of treatment.
This invisible tattoo you left me with,
unseen to anyone else,
I see everyday.

With shaking hands do not touch me.
Shaking loose a silhouette of grief,
pain blankets the sky,
I tremble ; the past is coming.
swirling down upon me.
My inner core tenses at the thought of it all.
I will break,
the ground craking beneath me I shake.
your wrath.