I sit here.
Lips stained with cigarettes.
I don't know what to do.
My mind has been clouded.
Unhinge my scalp and breath in.
My soul trembles at my fingertips.
Paper cuts under my nails.
I bleed love.
My problems are tangled in my hair.
I can't shave it cause I'm supposed to be an adult.
I pack my fears into a briefcase.
My eyes heat my bedroom.
The fire you started didn't go out after you left.
I extinguish sadness with numbness.
My bed is a cave.
I have been frozen in its glaciers.
To cold to move.
Save me.

My pillow case knows what crying yourself to sleep tastes like
And my shower echoes every life changing thought I've ignored.
Underneath empty dishes,
Abandoned rellos,
Vacated cigarette packs,
Miscellaneous knick knacks
And a game boy color
Is a desk.
And on that desk are millions of scratches
Recording the lonely thoughts of a crowded mind.

Eat the flesh off my fingertips
To erase my finger prints
Cause I don't know who the **** I am.

you are a mirror,
already shattered and left with razor sharp edges,
but made of the same pieces as before
you were dropped.
alcohol and meaningless *** are only a temporary glue
and five months time have worn it thin.
resist your predisposition to push everyone away
before hearing the way her voice shakes,
begging you to stay until tomorrow,
as you drown yourself in self destruction.
let the oceans of her eyes swallow the pills for you,
and her own scarred skin fend against the knives you pull out of your back.
you have rebuilt the broken glass walls of your mind
with your one-night-stand's skin-tight leather pants,
strong enough to defend against the words that slip out of her mouth
but not pictures of her bare skin.
use your hands to make something tangible,
like a hand-written letter to your mother
or a mixtape for the sweet girl you shared a cab with,
instead of giving yourself bruises and four second *******.
but *******,
you never once asked how I was doing.