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sky Feb 2019
I love the rush of anxiety
Feeling it crawl up my throat; a ball of nerves.
Sometimes, I want it to just rush out of me.
A round, small, spider-like creature with a million eyes all over and long, sharp legs.
I’d cradle it like a baby
sky Feb 2019
I love the way
you talk to me
it makes me feel loved

but they hate it
and so they tell me it's false
and I believe them

I hate the way
I talk myself out
of love
sky Jan 2019
I read that a writer can't be made
but that he must be born
and now I'm left to fear
that I don't have it in me
sky Dec 2018
I can't help but laugh
when I think about how
the only thing separating us
is 32 hours
and an eternity
sky Dec 2018
I watch my breath closely, as it clouds before me
as if it is a film
My skin, it screams, i want to soothe it
I want to peel the layers away until I am warmed
Hug me, I am cold
sky Dec 2018
I long to be buried
along with who I am
under what I did
above what I was
sky Dec 2018
It drips from my eyes and spills into the fire;
I stare past it to the world that was once breathing,
to the people who greeted it in the morning
My bare foot slides in the dirt, drawing a circle, then stops
The other mimics it
I hold my hands out before me, they bare the offering
The ink begins to stain my skin
It's poring out.
My fingers are melting, and they release it
it falls
for eternity
into the flame
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