We don't waste time
sleeping the night away,
and home has never felt
so **** distant.

Although that may just be
from all the trips we made
up and down the elevator
of that storage place.

...and the yellow skies
behind her gradient eyes
send me sailing
where gravity's defied
in an upwards sprial
of homelust...

...and Kansas never seemed so beautiful...

You seem to leave scars on the inside of my flesh , they cut from the inside out , not the other way around .

It's not the doubt that does it.
It's not the second thoughts
nor is it the insecurities.
It's not about the lack of trust
or the saturated lust,
it's not the natural attraction
or the ****** satisfaction.

It's just the sickening familiarity of it all.
The painful realization that I've been here before, again and again,
yet each time expecting something...

*...different.

Let's just stop and breathe.

Just for a bit,
until the tunnel vision fades
and the circling black dots
clear from my sight.

Until I can inhale
without gasping
and dry heaving,
just a little longer
so the drums
in my temples
cease their
restless beat.

...Just breathe...

Okay.
I'm ready.
******* do it.

I can't hold all of this,
would you lend me a hand?
Come down for me
like I know you can
and stay awhile longer
This time around.

Maybe the days just
aren't long enough
and the miles between
are too far for us.
Come down from there,
and bring a piece of
the clouds with you.

another cup of coffee down the hatch
                  can't find a reason to stay awake;

another cup of coffee down the hatch-
                                             **forced survival.

I was like a petal in the wind, I graced the
breeze like a seed in the wind. planting
my thoughts in a singular action,
But I screamed in frustration of a falling
that didn't descend fast enough for me.

Could I be like a stream of warmth that
was cut away from me, it flourished on
the curvature of my palm. Pooling I think
of thoughts swimming beneath, the bubbles
that linger are the words of my pain that popped.

The beauty in suicide isn't what you think its
a gesture of individuality, we are a flower
blossoming to the scent of death, and when
we are gone. Deceased this was our moment
to clarify our existence and then our peace.

I prefer watching
movies on my own, despite
being so helpless

Formulas? What formulas?
My angles are calculated
by kisses.

How many sides?
I have enough
to keep me entertained for a thousand years.
As for area, I don't have much

Because my insides drove off
into sunny blizzards
a long time ago.

I am missing a base
There's a gaping whole somewhere

Its perfection, in comparison to me,
releases the gilded blood
which melts my myriad of eyes,
those limestone rocks
I lean on whenever my shape is uneven,
the angles getting smaller

At a different pace each.
Lips & hugs are not always enough
to keep them standing;
When they
collapse, you are hardly forgiven.

Trouble has its own number.
This prank would be funnier
if you were by my side