i waltzed through fields of sunburnt grass
that crunched like leaves beneath my feet.
the sky, ablaze, was bleeding orange
and red. i searched for stars with cloudy
eyes. the more i walked, the less
i saw, until i reached the shore.
the ocean floor was lined with dust
that ached to flutter up my legs.
i felt my heart melt in the sand,
before long, it was dark. i fought
to turn away, but riptides spun
my mind. a cluttered head and broken
jaw, i splashed and kicked to be
set free. i sunk like anchors off
a ship, that long to float away.

weeks pass like hours, spinning through time
dizzy and nauseous. i’m throwing up blood.
my taste buds are soaked in bile and toothpaste.
if i could i would scrape off layers of my brain
with my finger nails - cut it open like an orange
and let the pulp spew just to get these thoughts out.
i have sandbags on my chest and i’m gasping
for air, trying to count backwards 10 to 1
slowly suffocating on every number
choking on my tongue, tasting every
word i kept from spilling out between my teeth.

i found myself searching for a candle
that smells like your whiskey tainted breath
to light in my room and walk away from.
let the flame lick my curtains and crawl
toward my sheets. burn the dreams locked
away in my pillow, they whisper
your name in my ear at night and by
morning i wake up half dead. fill my house
with soot and ash, and when i comb
through its remains i will breathe in decay
and rubble that smells a lot like you.

Tangled vines are suffocating swaying
oak trees. Deep within the forest, singing
birds are silenced -- ivy climbs to conquer.
Camouflaged as green and bright, the thread
rope grasps and chokes the boughs until they crack.

Spreading out its arms it falls, and no
one hears a sound. No axe or flock of men
in sight, lugging heavy cranes of steel.
Sometimes flowing rivers don't ***** forest
fires. Sometimes latching on too tightly
can hinder blooming flowers. The tree lets brothers
grow tall, then looks ahead -- not left and right.

Five fourteen p.m., my coffee bubbles in the ***.
Absent minded typing keeps the flood of thoughts away.
Drips pass through the filter, like a cut that cannot clot.
The radio hums static and I bend my knees to pray.

Eight o' nine p.m., I cry, "Oh, please Lord, stay with me."
Pacing footsteps creak and sigh, echoing my plea.
Clanking chains and padlocks keep my arms from flailing free
but still I scream out, "Should I climb atop a sycamore tree?!"

Two o' three a.m., no thoughts my dreamcatcher has caught.
I'm blinking, staring into space, to keep the tears at bay.
Somber, grave, inside my sheets my bones begin to rot.
God, fight off these demons, they are begging me to stray.

You reside in fading freckles.
Just when anticipated
sun rays burn
you are steadfast
to make your return.

You inhabit collected sleep in my eyes.
Just when I've escaped
into my dreams
you are laced and weaves
through my skins seams.

You live in the epilogue of my favorite novel.
Just when the culmination
I approach
gradually but inevitably
you encroach.

You dwell in vapor and in most
just when water
stems to boil
from the depths of the ***
do you uncoil.

You exist in muddy saltwater
just when a new wave curls
your stinging undertow swirls.

The window to my wrist is cracked
inviting you to climb inside.
Paddle swiftly through my veins,
slide your way into my heart.

It's drafty and I'm catching colds
from ghosts who creep in overnight.
Just looking for a place to rest,
then they sneak out again at dawn.

Spirits stomp their feet beneath
my skin. Lord, please bleach my veins
and stain them white. Please coat my blood.

These visions haunt my cluttered head
they're smothering my heart. I'm tired
of choking on charcoal and bleeding out ink.
It's flooding, sew the storm door shut.