the angels are screaming in my ears. They’re warning me that there’s a forest fire roaring inside of me; the sweet alyssum that bloomed from the decaying memories I buried deep in my bones have burned into ash, revealing a fragile foundation that was created by scarred flesh and empty promises. I’m a pyre wrapped in a fiery rage that’s devouring my heart, igniting my lungs; inhaling the stench of smoldering melancholy, exhaling pain that resembles smoke from my cigarettes. I’m choking on my own corruption. My blood has turned into embers, keeping this fire growing louder.. a reminder that my misery will never be heard. my feet have become roots, digging into the earth that’s swallowing me like a decomposing animal; yet i will never be home, ill always be lost

you looked into my eyes which always seemed to remind you of the ocean. you said your dad never told you that you may drown while admiring the waves, your smile said not being able to breathe would be worth it. I thought about how you’re like the ocean breeze, giving breath to tired lungs. you swirl the sea, placing troubled minds at ease. you built sandcastles with your voice which I began to call home but it’s quiet now, all I can hear is a tsunami and I can’t seem to catch my breath

“hurt me like the world hurts god”

if you’re not a believer, turn on your favorite song then hurt me to the melody that’s causing your heart strings to snap; hurt me like roaring tornados disintegrating everything in its path. hurt me by severing an artery, let’s portray the fear we hide inside by painting with my blood. It’d make such a pretty picture but we’re all too busy tricking our minds into believing that fear is weakness and weakness is ugly

how many times do I have to burn your name into my clothes? your smell lingers, It’s the closest reminder of the places I tore down to make a home I never knew. how many times do I have to break my wrists? I still feel the way you gnawed on my bones, sharp words that you dug deep into my rib cage. I don’t want these cold hands that once held the warmth of being stable. how many times will I fall to my knees? dripping blood, pleads of forgiveness that’ll only be washed away; never heard. how long will I be afraid?