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alex Jul 2018
I can't remember the last time,
will there ever be a last time?
tell me: in heaven or in hell
do they judge you for the pain inflicted
to you, or by you?
what if those pains were the same
with different hands? different eyes?
another place? another time?
alex Jul 2018
a kaleidoscope of painful memories
colors so vibrant like
fresh blood on your white clothes.
trauma in an hourglass
time and progeny
going on forever into the dark.
a generation of rats
too damaged to raise their young
past weaning.
something in our blood
whispering familiar stories
in a language we don't want to understand.
we are all haunted houses
inhabited by those who came before
and those who could not leave.
alex Jul 2018
the things people will do
to alleviate the human condition.
the fear of the unknown
crying out in the dark hoping to find
something out there
a love
anything but nothing at all.

to be without
perhaps, unburdened now.
all but stories,
particles of life in other's eyes.
we all are, once were,
dream to be again,
the idea of a soul
in a body made of glass.
written the day my grandmother died, June 28th.
alex Jul 2018
I am tethered to a tree
20 miles away.
I have 20 more miles of rope.
a brown rabbit in winter
contrasted against the snow.

there's a wolf waiting for me ahead.
if he has to
he will swallow the rope.

I'm tired all the time
but I cannot sleep.
he's watching me.
he judges,
but his stomach does not.

I do not know if I can walk 20 more miles.
what's in it for me?
the wolf has hunted all our lives.
born beside me like a twin,
we are identical at heart.

like symbiosis, codependent
though it's hard to say which is the parasite,
I know that it's always me.
alex Jul 2018
dreams where
im telling all my secrets
to people i fear are more like strangers
than friends

buying cigarettes
and never smoking them
trying to find
a way out or through

i dont know why
but something draws me
towards the abyss
outside looking in
it's full of loathing
for me

i used to think
they'd **** me in the street.
dad always told me
watching me hurt is funny to him,
and them

but i think now theyd just
leave me to die
swirling above like vultures
or hyenas, cackling,
looking for jokes to eat.
alex Jul 2018
white spider webs
hanging in the air around you
drifting and dispersing
with your breath in
long drags.
smoke gets in your eyes
and you don't see things the same way
that you did when you were a child.
you used to be scared of lighters
now you're scared of the light itself.
alex Jul 2018
drooling on myself in
the bathroom in back
of the Thai restaurant I've
frequented since
I was 7

crying in a dairy Queen
but I never went there as a kid
mom didn't
want me to eat too much sugar

sweetness in my life
something far off and
in between.
between what. I do not know

living like honey now
but I don't enjoy the taste of honey
so in the back of my friend's car
there's a graveyard just for me
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