My mother always told me to be careful what i say in mixed company, for some words could offend one party but not the other. But instead of being cautious of the words i spit out, i am more scared of the words i swallow. I have caused a rip in the balance of life, taking years from others i am undeserving of. I should have died a long time ago, but instead i am here stealing oxygen from those who need it more.
I was told that when i sleep, i mumble incoherent sentences. But your walls hear what you say in your sleep, and thats where all the cracks come from. I have choked on bits of the ceiling that has broken off from my sorry language and i think thats why i wake up in fits of not breathing. That persistent feeling of falling is not an illusion, its God trying to tell me He wants me back, that i am not welcome in this bed, so Hes trying to find a way to pull me through my roof but He is not stronger than the forces of suffering. I am Suffering. I am the sacrificial lamb that must be given back to the heavens. I am the ambrosia stolen from the gods and they're descending to take me back.
Every ***** in my body has the natural instinct to survive, but my heart is telling me to escape, that it'll fight off the rest so i can do what needs to be done. My heart is the kindest of them all, it has met my soul that is too old for my body. My soul is crying out to the clouds, wanting to be released but thats why i have refrained from sticking that knife to my veins for nearly a year in fear of what i might let out. Sometimes its blood, sometimes its  pain, but sometimes its freedom and tonight i will be drunk in my liberation until God has seen my insides deflate, watch a sadness so heavy that it grinds my bones to dust. God does not know what this body is capable of, God has seen nothing yet.

While you're swimming in my veins,
I just pray that my rivers meet the sea
when you're fed up with the songs I'm singing
just tell me softly- darling I think you ought to stick to poetry
when you're mad, your hands bleed
like a wounded soldier with no guns to hold;
you will fight for me every day I'm alive
When my silent scissor wrists refuse to cut your edges,
when your firefly mouth I tried to keep in a mason jar finds my spine,
I will never again count my own secrets
I will never again search for the answers with knowing the question
and when you look at me like a crumbling rockwall,
I will tell you not to climb. Do not climb these mountains,
you will not find God at the top
you will not find God in my temples,
or between them.
or anywhere near my sinner's cheeks.
because when they burn, they set fire.
because when you ignite, you're deadly.
because you called me one night adorned with whiskey,
your lips telling tales I used to dream about for bedtime stories.
tell me leaving was a mistake, drawn in blood
and I just want you back like the revolving door
through that airport where we met near the spring
and find me by the river, caressing my veins
because you are so full of water and I don't want to drown
in anything less than your body.
Let me in, like that stray cat
walk over my body like a ******* welcome mat.
You are always welcome, do not thank me
for saving your life because my hands shake when I think of you dying
and I can't write you down as fast as you're coming in so be still for a second
be still while the storm breaks, while you try to figure out if my body is the eye.
while you try to let me in.