And then you changed
With each passing day I saw you in
A different light.
But I didn't mind
Because I knew I was just starting
To see you clearly.

All of those words
On repeat in my head.
On repeat in my head.
On repeat in my head.
On repeat in my head.
Again and again
And again.

My mouth is a music box,
But my mind is a broken record.

It may be true that we’re
All sitting on death row
Mistaking temporary ripples
For permanence.
But life doesn't touch you
Because
Your eyes are portals into eternity,
And your smile is a wormhole into
Polaroid moments, taking place in
A timeless spaceless plane where
We are infinite.

No wonder the demons are jealous.

Maybe you can't feel the skin
On your palms
But they are wrapped around your own throat,
Ivy chocking your forest.
A colisascope of stars spinning
Webs in your branches.
Sometimes I forget where we were.
How close we got to the moon
Before you remembered your roots,
How it was to be held down.
But when I feel the wind
I still hope it reaches your leaves.
I still pray you can feel the
Movement in your body.
I know it seems like a broken drum
But your heart is beating songs large enough to move oceans.

The Sea World commercial
Tells me
Amazing and real only exist together
In one place.
They must have never met your eyes.

But after hearing about what
Happens
On the other side of the glass,
I can't help but think both
Are false advertisement.

Through the
Curtain.
Draping my faith on the walls like tapestries, hanging
Wishes on nails. Rooms filled with pipe dreams and hidden images.
Imagine watching you with that gleam in your eyes
I used to always love the way your eyes danced
Waltzing
Slow tones through my hair.
I know
The music turned sour in your mouth
You no longer wanted to dance.
I know
They always feared the melody wouldn't last long enough.
Showing you my wishes
Surgery open on tables with legs
Never strong enough to hold the weight.
Your legs
Your hands
Your bones were shaking the day you told me you relapsed.
I imagine
The way you complained about the glare of the sun in my room.
Too bright for your vision
Once your heart grew dim.

He told me that
Ivy bags never feel as good as shooting up,
Watching the needle slide into his arm.
Watching his liquid life drip from a
Plastic bag
Into the tube.

The first time he overdosed his friends were so scared
They left him to the dogs.
On the side of the road,
In a fit of rambling and cold sweat.
The sweat, everywhere
The cold was deeper in his bones.

The second time he was at his Mothers house.
She wanted so badly to see the little
Boy she once
Held to her breast.
But looked down on his shaking  
Ashamed to not recognize the body at her feet.

By the third time
He had no one left.
They classified him as a lonely addict,
Addicted to several deadly drugs.

At some point he realized he wasn't going to have
The wake up moment.
He was never going to bounce back from this
Swallowing sleep
Consuming his life one second at a time.
Ticking away he is lost to the sound of the clock
He says the rhythm puts him to sleep

He told me ivy bags never felt as good as shooting up
But sometimes the clock in the hospital would break
And he could pretend
He didn't ever feel the time.