did you take your medicine this morning?
we noticed you haven't come out of your room all day. yes, the appointment is the 29th.

you didn't write down the homework. what homework?
you can't turn it in now.

if i help myself, i might lose you

you're a talented writer, i saw that from early on
but as a reader, it's impossible to like the narrator
he's sort of an immature ****
...yes?

the sound of an entry plug fills your senses
lcl
the primordial ooze
hair should be floating but nothing changes
nothing at all
did they really think this through?

dissociating
is an interesting thing
do you realize
that these lines dont make sense

don’t you keep your secrets well? like i did
five years and counting and i was kneeling on your floor
chapped lips and oily thoughts of the summer breathing in your hunting eyes
i’ll tell them if you don’t
and i was far too young to realize that the only thing wrong was you
i grabbed at any chance to be acknowledged,
accustomed to my solitary confinement with the friends i had to make
on my own
that could never talk back to me
so i was fond of your attention
i owed it to you for talking to me, didn’t i
things i could barely comprehend
the meaning of
look at me
not enough
too slow
i think i hear them
hide under the covers
it’s okay
i’ll tell them if you don’t
dont you want to have a baby? we could right now thats a lie
encouragement
lying
pleading
   on your behalf
it wasnt just me, but she didnt live there
and the only person i ever told was a
repeat offender.

you let your fingers do the talking
with your hips ground down unsystematically destroying
that which your mouth could not
in the darkness, door open, silent night and the american horror,
you let yourself show
i never told a soul, not even
myself
that i looked into your eyes and i saw something only
hell
could have described to the maker
frozen
churning
mind blank
body of wax melting
your hands shaping your legs locking you’re falling you push you know it’s wrong you fall
vomiting
again

refracted light
in a place where light hardly touches, and you graze the floor
distaste
at the layers of dust you’ve let grow over the years
who did this? who was the one
who let the snow melt and the spring come and the summer fade
over and over
who was the one
who let the furniture grow restless with disuse and the shadows
lonely
and the skeletal remains of the dreams you played in your mind
and the streets in your home, worn thin with no travellers
going nowhere
now that you have gone

sun rusted light settles
on the
pale
moon
and your eyes closed for the first time
and mine opened
and i saw everything you had dreamed during the interim
and your ghost
carried on

i miss the feeling i would get when i looked at you under the hazy glow
of a streetlamp
and the darkness of those suburban streets would wrap us together

i miss the feeling i would get when our hands would brush in the warm
air
and our thighs would graze as we sat on the steps of that playground

i miss the silence of the night and the silence of the day when you were still asleep and i would climb the internet to be a part of you

i miss that softness of our lips brushing the first time, and the jealousy
that encompassed me and made me feel like my chest was
caving in

i miss the nervous feeling when i saw you the first time after so long and how nothing had changed and everything had and your hand was still in mine

and of all things
i miss the feeling of being in love with you

as simple
in death
as he was in life; one column posts
and the stark white of his soul
brevity became him, and every dust stirred by his breath
could count itself
lucky.