the marrow in my bones has begun to liquify
hot molten lava bubbling like
a thick *** of boiling chocolate on the stove
the stars are expiring
rotten milk leaking from the clouds
and accumulating in-between wrinkles
that paint your face like picasso
But when I peer into the darkness
all i can make out is you ripping off
your fingernails
exhaust pipes jammed down your throat

i have to shower four times a day
letting the soap drip into my eyes
to distract myself from your face
scrubbing my skin raw and red
rug burns up and down my arms
carve the bruises out of my legs
from the stains you shamelessly left

13 birthday candles left lit,
melting onto the frosting
wax dried and cracked over your lips
asphyxiated, blue, frayed ropes
tied around the wings of the vultures
who desperately try to peck away
at my rotting flesh
but I have yet to die
So can't you see how it is slightly ironic
Cement plastered bodies all dressed up
for a black tie affair
cigars in their pockets
and money crammed up their *** cracks

1:44 am and I cough up all those 'little white lies'
you pre chewed
and force fed me
glazed eyes
and the phosphorescent glow
from the street lamps below
is the only ******* hope I have left
for humanity

7 points
3 planes
9 lights
and this fire in my lungs
your presence was overbearing and I had so much to say
Bursting at the seams with such consequential information
I am a coward
I have never experienced a night where cars ceased to exist
And the wind invaded my pores so profoundly
All the things I could not say
God ******
So many moments where I could feel the letters slipping
Out of my lips, but I collected them
And shoved them back down my throat
And then proceeded to **** them with my conscious
"Are you okay", I asked
"Yes"
"I think you're lying"
silence
silence
silence
That was all I could muster up
But what I really wanted to say was-
I know you're lying
And I want to crawl into your cigarette fingers
Give your lonely chapped soul some company
But that does not even begin to portray the images;
Thoughts inside my brain, chemicals reacting
Refusing
Resisting
I am an imbecile
A decaying bundle of festering emotions and words
Slowly rotting my insides, I wish
I could just tell you
How I actually feel

All i find myself deeply caring for is

the discovery of new poetry

a cigarette on my roof at 12:43 am

the ink inside this pen, the paper underneath my hands

and that shoes inside the dryer noise

within my chest

and for some reason, nothing else sticks to me

it rolls off my skin like water on windows

puddling in front of my feet

darling, you don’t matter - maybe in someone else’s eyes

but in mine, you just don’t matter

*don’t take it so personally

Recently I have not been eating
I like how it feels
Wasting away
I want to become so frail that I sway in the wind
And disappear like the little burs from dandelions
Yesterday the cold infected my bones
and numbed my fingers
The icesicles in the air scraped my lungs,
But I liked it
Am I a ******* or am I
Mentally ill?
My suicide note is starting to resemble
The coffee I obsessively drink,
And the ink on my skin fading along with my chances
With him
The only way you're ever going to make a difference is if
Your name is in a textbook and children
Are popping bubbles and sticking the gum
In the pages
Is there a part of me that wants to hold onto life?
Why else would I write down my intentions?
If I was completely set on ending things
I would not need to write them down
They would fester in my mind comfortably
But these thoughts seem to fit very awkwardly
Inside my head
Then again,
What's the point in waiting?

chalkboard dreams
the chalky dust coughing out of my lungs
forming words in the air that
I can not comprehend, but you
rearranged the letters
like magnets on a refrigerator
picking apart my insides
staples stuck in the skin of your lover
all I asked from you was an answer
but you gave me more questions

rope strung around each finger tied to the substances you have faithfully
pledged your existence to
but these knots and strings are pointless
when point b does not reciprocate with point a

you have devoted your emotions to a pseudo relationship
built upon the crumbling granules of sugar and all things sweet
but sweetness only gets you so far
before your teeth begin to rot

i have taken a butter knife to my collar bones
and sliced away at the sick residue left over
from all the attachments
the terms and conditions that i vacuously accepted

or maybe i just don't understand how you could call this happiness
tediously worshipping these obsessions
you're losing your sense of self
touch with reality and what really
is alive