sunken eyes
i watched them
in silent rooms.
breathing people
nothing but
the vents breathing
their moan of
churning gears

brittle bones
i arose to
black and cream elixir
the orange sun peaking over
black branch silhouette
a sight for tired eyes

helpless hands
gripping the red glazed mug
emanating peaceful warmth
unlike the heat of the words
burned in the back of my mind

6:12 a.m
trying not to think
deep breaths
sips of coffee
remembering
how to forget
seems to be
the hardest thing after all

he who
made living a lot less terrifying
seems abstract in my mind now
not solid, not there,
maybe he was a daydream after all

craving sustenance
the only thing that is for sure
is the orange
fading into pink, fading into blue
like the only thing i’ve ever know,
the bottom of the red mug
peaks at me
still warm in my hands,
but not like your reminiscent hand

I grabbed hold of her wrist
and my hand closed from tip to tip
I said
"you've taken the diet too far, you have got to let it slip"
But she's not eating again,
she's not eating again,
she's not eating again,
she's not eating again.
I ask her to speak French and then I need her to translate,
I get the feeling she makes the meaning more significant,
She was always far too pretty for me to believe in a single word she said,
believe a word she said.
-----------------------
A good place to look to the future is when you are sat at the sea,
With the salt up to your ankles and a view of the end of the pier,
You may look down at your model's feet
and wish that you'd
just float away,
And the weather here is overcast
and the sea is the same shade of grey,
So the landscape before you looks just like the
edge of the world,
But to the left side and the right side,
either way is a crazy golf course.
The sea is a good place to think of the future.