TW: graphic imagery

I bled watercolors
And you cared only for the art
For pain you did not feel on your own you made no empathy for

You told me about my bleeding
That it was a beautiful way to adorn the walls
So I dug my nails into my palms
Raked them along my arms,
where you used to write your love,
And let the paint pour out
Let the pain pour out
Down my wrists it ran
My fingertips coated like brushes dipped to deep into a ***

I smeared my hands along the walls
And I ran among the hallways
My palms leaving a wake
Still the tide, it did not go out

I wandered on
Like a ghost in my own house
Pouring myself out
Onto all the walls I had built up
In a way I tore them down
And in a way they broke me
I slammed my fists against them
Every door I had locked shook
And I put my hand on the handle
Praying that they would open
It seems no matter how strongly I feel
Nothing gives way

I sat on the floor
Everything beneath me splintering into my soul
My breathing was heavy and labored
Though my heartbeat was weaning away
My palms open now to the sky
And I pressed handprints into the wall
Pushing everything away
As you had pushed me so many times

So I feel to much
Say to little
And have no wanderings I can journey home from

But still you tell me
There is beauty in the bleeding
You.
Are the beauty in the bleeding

I lay barren in my dreams
The words you whispered into my head echoed as if they had been a cry for water in the dessert
I have dug my bed
Now I lie unwittingly in this grave
These sheets a tangle
Wrapped to the corner posts
Bound around my wrists
Like chains around my neck
I am a slave to foolishness
And I fear I will master nothing
This night she is a maiden
Though she fancies virtue naught
Her companions are a silver sliver of a moon caught in the bows of a pine
Orion's scythe wrought in metal made of stars
And the dying whispers of every poor sinner to kiss the back of her hand
She keeps dreams bound about her waist
A corset of nightmares
Still my foolishness is great
But my fear even greater
Would that I could close my eyes
And awake a poor dreamer from slumber
Still I cannot shut them
My muscles bid me wishes in vain
Still I cannot find the voice
To shovel my own ****** eulogy into the earth
Still I cannot make a way
To rise from this hell, after a life of raising hell
Would you watch me
As I passed
Through this night and on into the eternal
I am nothing to this earth but a foolish handful of ash
Blown into the wind
To chase my way into the beyond

The clock she sings
And I tremble for a moment
My memories laced into to many people
"Never enough time," I mutter, "never enough time. To tell those that I love, that I am with them always."

Sometimes I only have endings in me
And just as the buds are beautiful in the Spring
The plucking of dead leaves has its place in the world

A day will pass
Another lifetime in its rising
Ropes they are cut with scissors and heartbreak
Endings are sewn into your pockets and the backs of your hands
And such as today is just a whisper to tickle your ear
So tomorrow will call like the dream you slept beneath as it rings the planet in its honesty