Hands like a magic trick
Favorite band sounding like an activist
But every song takes him back to this
In vain, pulling rabbits out of wrists
Maybe this is something he can fix

She smiles like the sun, he's reminded of a son
Just a boy baking like a raisin praying for the one
If he could find in a friend what he confides in the end
He won't have to lie in the sin or hide from who he's been

He burns like broken embers in a kiln
Forging words from Iron and steel, she's made of iron and will
They fly higher and still desire fire to feel

She is stronger than her namesake, her and Hercules in the same place
Pacing in parentheses, he's not as patient as he used to be
"Why is she choosing me?" her eyes are where her truth could be
Window shopping in the same way, but his would never vacate

Hands liken to a tragic tick
Abstract fashion fit for a *******
Imagine this. They'll make it there and back again
Only to find she's magic and he's rabbit-less

I don't write like I used to
A prophecy of hypocrisy, these un-dotted i's keep watching me.
Teasing me to cross that line (Honestly I want to drop that line)
Hook and sinker, I took and tinkered with every part
But I was never good at art, macaroni hearts peeling off a frigid front
Admittedly too timid to give it up yet so livid I ripped it up
She smelled like a pinch of dust on a crimson cup
Between two cigarettes we didn't mention much
Scripted yet cryptic touch, fingertips miss by an inch from tensing up
I miss this mess amassed but I miss you most.
I miss you most.

Depicted as an addict for your afflictions, emotionally evicted, my ****** expressions are cryptic
I am absent.
I am a shoe without a sole or a tongue, hung over lines for everyone to see
I am absent.
"Perhaps CAPS is the best place for you." As time elapsed I couldn’t grasp the concept
Replaced the laces with stems from flower vases, It’s less about the material and more about the release
I am absent.
Adept at adapting to your feelings even when I can’t feel a thing, I’m already a ghost
So why is my lack of spirit haunting me? The somber face in the mirror sends shivers down my spine
I am absent.
In my head I find serenity in screaming obscenities, but to your face I timidly say, "It’s fine."
I find serendipity in finite extremities, they seem to be the only thing I can understand
Just give me an ending in transcendent tendons, I am fingertip dependent with a penchant for physical tension because...
I am ---

The heavy oak door creaks before slamming behind me
Floorboards echo these cries with each pressing footstep
My eyes set upon a beige leather couch cracked and falling apart
As I collapse onto a cushion, I can hear the seams ripping and pulling
Dust billows up into the air and my nose, then falling to the table
Weathered and beaten, I lean over the table and it threatens to break
Two coffee cup stain rings carved into the wood graining as if they belonged
I trace one with my index and wonder where we had gone wrong
There is a moaning in the next room filling up the house
I recognize the tremendous groans of the stairs and look to their hideous song
Soft and smooth notes playing over them in a cautious placement
I listen to her humming and my core vibrates in congruence

I miss that song.

I lurch forward but my body does not dare to leave her again
Her dimples begin creasing, her eyes meeting that familiar motion
Pale arms outstretched as she sits beside me on the ancient couch
Threads between us tear and unravel as she pivots to look at me
“You came back for me.”

We are surviving.

My nose clogged with dust and scorched flesh

I keep clearing and blowing but I can’t rid myself of the stench

Like pitch sticking to the walls of each breath

I cough and I retch, I try to see what is left

Face paint smearing as I wipe it from my brow

I lift myself up off the ground and open my eyes

Bloodied and broken, there is a word spoken

Through the haze, my mother’s gaze is caught

A fire in her eyes, and now, a courage in my heart


We are dying.

The fires remain fresh as the matches catch onto the ashes

Licking and leaping, creeping towards my mattress

Acting as if in desperation the flames keep coming back

Frozen in time, frozen in fear, I hear her voice nearby

Ignoring the crackling, I clear my my mind and try to find her

Underneath every chosen step, the wood gives way


We are fighting.

The candle lingering dimly beneath the window

The light ******* of the piano, hand over trembling hand

Faint whispers of a widow as she sings with what life she has

My nails tapping along the sill but not quite in rhythm

There is a light swiftly spreading over the hills off in the night

I turn and look to my mother as she plays the final note

She struggles to smile as her lips begin to drift away with the smoke


We are alive.

A lightning rod for pain
                    clap
Thunder in the distance firing on all pistons
                    clap
Time slows and I'm thrown to center stage
                    clap
I hear them whisper the lines I can't remember
                    *clap

Can we minimize the lies?
Synergize these goodbyes
Empathize with these empty eyes
Empty every mention, did I mention i
Never left the house without these misty eyes
...do you miss these eyes?
Eclipsed by wisps floating wistfully by
Cringing tension amidst these whys
Why do I kiss your thighs just to restrict this time
Constrict this mind between each line
Each inch is uplifted, twisted as we convict each rhyme
For the conflict that rips these ties that used to bind our eyes
I don't choose to miss those eyes, I just forget to mention the tension as we kiss goodbye