its late afternoon in the winter and the sun is dripping into the horizon,
the creams golds crimsons making love to each other in the reflections in the snow. the air is frigid and whistles as i push further and further down on the accelerator.
60. 70. 80. 90. 100. 110. the steering wheel is practically vibrating and i have to grip it with both hands to keep it steady, my fingers are turning blue. there are fields and farmers' markets nearly hidden by the walls of snow plowed away earlier today. my knuckles are white, the pool of my ***** in the passenger seat on top looks like it's freezing over on the edges.
my phone is ringing, i know it's not him, i can't look at it anyway. the sun hasn't stopped dripping below the horizon, the glow of my phone lights up the whole car. the radio is playing a song i don't know, it's so loud that i can feel the beat in my heart, but not even my pulse has a sense of rhythm beating ten beats between 1 and 3, my phone is still ringing, i know it's him but i know it's not. the ***** has developed a film, this car is putrid and i am inside of it.

i know i should pull over but i can't get far enough away.

i slow back to 80 and throw up outside of the window, i don't stop.

my words foam up and come out in squeaks and stutters
and i always say all the wrong words
and embarrass you in front of your friends
my words are spat, not spoken when we're fighting and i'll say
anything anything anything
even if it is so cold and so acidic that my chest hurts
after it's left my throat
my words are too loud, too harsh, too demanding
empty promises snorted away
over and over again

your fingers tracing my thigh
and you look at me like you want to memorize every part

what a difference a year makes

you sneer at me from across the room
the only way people know we're together is when someone else tells them

i can't blame you for giving up on me
i can't blame you for falling out of love
i can't blame you for seeking comfort in someone else

i'm still here
and i'd do anything to be what you want again

my words don't mean
much of anything
anymore

what scared me the most
is that those few moments before i could tell for sure
when i couldn't tell if the problem was inability to find
a pulse or a vein-
the weak, venomous veins-
were the only few moments that were still quiet
because nothing has seemed to stop since then
the screaming hasn't stopped since then
the screaming hasn't stopped since i started it

it could've been her

her skin is a shade of white not natural
her lips were blue in the morning
she refuses to tell the doctors about
the ******
the blow
the pills
but i tell her that it's okay because
every time i look at her for more than
a few seconds my face gets hot
and not in the way it used to
but in the way that makes you itch

the sunset is hazy through sheer curtains
she hasn't woken up for a few hours
the sunset is hazy
her eyes don't open all the way
the sunset is hazy
and falling away like a broken yolk

you cut the brown boy
into two lines while i roll a dollar bill
you're telling me about how i should let you shoot up
just once
so you can know what it's like.
i loved the way ****** tasted, the way it felt sitting in my nose.
unlike blow or pills, you don't let it drain into your throat
it just sits there
and pushes into you.
you cut the brown boy
and when we snort it it tastes like sugar
sweeter than the coke cut with B12 that had me up all night
and i can taste it all over my body
like the sour sweet is pacing through my body to the beating of my heart
i feel it in my arms
i feel it in my nose
i feel it between my legs.
i felt so warm, and then i was on top of you.
kissing on your neck and grinding on your lap, i can feel your heartbeat and it is so
s
l
o
w.
the sun is setting outside
and your skin is ignited with the orange flame.
you taste like cherries and cucumbers and ******.
the warmth is even brighter when you are inside of me,
i am holding you so close that i'm scared if we go still we will just
melt into each other.
"i love you
i love you
i love you" we whisper back and forth;
you grip my hands while i ***

we're outside for a cigarette in your car
we're going to go buy some molly in a city far away
your eyelids are still sagging
and everything is still so slow
i can see the yellow of the nicotine in the smoke.

i am overcome with grief and guilt every time i wash my hands
because i do not know how much of you is left in the fine lines of my palms

7:06
bringing a new weight to the words "high and dry,"
she crushes ten 0.5 milligram pills of xanax with the **** end of a spoon,
puts half of it up her nose, mixes the rest into a bottle of water along with a koolaid packet.

8:47
bringing a new weight to the words "high and dry,"
she pulls three more pills from an empty lipstick tube in her bag,
chases them with her koolaid xanax cocktail and checks her email:
for every day that she doesn't change her underwear, she makes twenty dollars,
mrsympatico@gmail.com tells her.

9:32
bringing a new weight to the words "high and dry,"
she snorts three more fat discolored lines in a public bathroom with her best friend.
her friend crushed the pills with a pen that clicked every time she pressed down;
breathe in fast and hold your ******* breath.

10:15
bringing a new weight to the words "high and dry,"
she takes her last pill of the day.
today has cost her at least thirty dollars
as she makes a career out of killing herself.