you don't exist when
my eyes are open
you don't exist when
my blood's not poisoned
when my soul's at peace
when my gut is full
and when I'm in company

So you exist most of the time
dear muse

but that handle was made for his hand
hand - handle
handle - hand

the fingers would close
around it to never let go
It had to have flesh around it
at all times
But the blade...
the blade was still naked. He couldn't let
the blade naked
It wasn't fair

"So that's why you stabbed your
mommy then?" the psychiatrist asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"The knife is more important
to you than mommy?"

"The knife listens. Mommy doesn't."

Our fixation with hand held machines
And replacing meals with soybeans
A spectator to arguments over vaccines
We're all underemployed and "getting-by" by other means
Living vicariously through our broken screens
Lobotomized and abused; nearly at-risk teens
Utterly lost in so many depression memes
Farmed and sent out from the Phillipines
Too desensitized to hear our own internal screams

I forget the feeling of life rushing past me,
ruffled hair and stinging cheeks-
I forget the wonder of standing bare-***** in the face of overwhelming possibility,
relishing the shivers slipping down my spine,
laughing wickedly in the face of a glaring happiness,
the reflection of your essence crystallized in your eyes-
I forget the warmth of a summer wind marrying the sinking sky,
of open hands spilling the secrets of Earth, me by your side.

But I forgot to say I loved you
And you forgot to stay