*****, *****, ***** bomb.
Our rage could bruise the sky.
I see the way the world ends, not with a whimper
but with a bang,
a legacy of atoms
and fire.

Black sand flowing
through skeletal fingers
and silenced hearts,
London eye squeaking
from Pripyat's whisper.
The earth stops turning
in the wake of self-fulfilled prophecies.

I
h
a
v
e
f
e
e
l
i
n
g
s
that
form
thou
ghts,
that
form
words,
that          form
sente            ­     nces,
that                       form
rope,                         which
ties                               itself
into a                            noose.
Your                         ­     words
are also                    a rope,
that saves me from
drowning.

like many drugs, I've been abused, I've been broken, down and used, strong as a castle wall, until you came to watch me fall, haunted by our mistakes, every wrong move we make, just strike a match, let bridges burn, and walk away from lessons learned,

i got out of my house for a 3AM walk
to a creek with what/whom i shared
the silence of holding my own hands
when that familiar hurt that curls around
my tongue and strangles my breath,
finds me again

my voice weakly exhaled the word
"look" a few times while my
throbbing mind tried to decide
whether the breath i was listening to
was mine or not, or if the feeling
in my palms as the grass pressed
into them belonged to me or not

i still don't know what
i was trying to look at

somewhere in the air was the scent of the
perfume my kindergarten teacher favored
somewhere between the red and blue paintings
my teeth made on my knuckles, was that
l i t t l e  v o i c e
telling me that tonight was a few steps backwards