"I wish you well."
                                                          ­                    



                                         ­                                     (but not too well without me)

It's an act,
a magic trick.
Your love, that is.

i like you and your slightly crooked teeth and the way your top lip curls under when you smile and how you look so emotionless but yet you've saved my life 5 times in the past 2 days and the way you have such a crazy, messed up mind but you turn that into the greatest artwork i've seen and the way you walk with your long, slender legs down the sidewalk and the way you head bang lightly to the music taste that we share when you slowly stride down the school halls and the way you laugh to yourself when you think of something funny from 2 weeks ago or when someone makes a smart *** or funny remark and the way that your jeans are not too tight but not too loose and how you wear your one zip-up sweater with different flannels or band tees underneath and the way you talk to me when you're saving my anxiety from getting worse and worse because i know by the way you've looked at me before that you hate seeing my eyes pour tears from them like a falling stream and i know that you're in love with a girl you call yours but i see it in your eyes that you're slowly giving up on her because i've experienced that every other ******* day of my life and i guess it's upsetting that i can list all these wonderful things that you call flaws but i see as perfection on you, but it's even more upsetting that you look at me like I'm of no importance and just a good friend.

when i became a menace to myself,
i found myself voluntarily doing the impossible
and the only possible action i could do is breathe and hum along to songs,
rhythmic patterns that build me and straighten my knees up
my eyes were looking down at the fractures on the earth, looking at my fingers stick out the dry yellow dead grass
my degradation was thought to be six feet below
i’m 5’6 and my fingers sticking out were reaching towards a tower of magic and happy prisons
dreams of sceneries, full of laughter and reassurance
full of trust and rich environments
and not even a trickle above a gram of *******, can make you seem this close to Gods feet
and you’ll share playlists to the ones who want to fly without wings off of buildings
and re-up for their sake
you’ll see the variant in the sky you cried to for years
and arrogate your state of emotion