I'm excavating your ribcage
Looking for answers
Of when things went wrong

I'm no mathematician or buddhist priest
But I'm really good at French toast
And overcomplicating myself

I convinced my coworkers I'm a vampire
Even though I'm vegetarian
The only kind of bloodlust I have
Is for loggers
(They took away my Mother nature)

I'm also really good at being over-dramatic
In a non serious way
You're wearing broken ankles on your wrists
How did those get there?

                                                         ­            Did you walk all over me
                                                              ­       With your hands
                                                           ­          Around my neck

Your hands were the noose that will pull the trigger and make me swallow all those sleeping pills so that people realize my pillows aren't made from the ocean

                                                          ­            You are that critical blow, K.O.,
                                                           ­            last breath,
                                                                ­      That push over the edge                                              

I'm really good at letting my
Scars be neon flashing lights
and/or ants that are
crawling,biting, poisoning
my memories

Letting my past,
                    Make me a Ghost of Today

I'm excavating your ribcage
And everything checks out
But I think you left your
heart at the train station

I'll yawn softly, roll over to the next couple states & fall back asleep curling my toes, as your scent hits my nose. My face buried in your back.

You think I've never seen the hallow?
Where darkness moves himself around
It's in the center of the trees
Where I saw you standing last night
With only a moments hesitation
I moved to the left and sat down
The tree bows for a perfect seat
A sort of throne, you could say
Where I sat and watched you for an hour

You never really moved
Not on your own

It's just over the hill
The wind only stirs the leaves
And your fingers
Your toes rooted deep
No need for fear
The dirt will hold you here.

Sleeping on the edge of a cliff
  facing Northwest
I moved the sun
Now I can wake to its golden bloon
bathe me in the fresh air of daylight
           Caressing the nine minute old streamline
Pulling it closer
Like time does to me
              And I become ash

Her breath forms beautiful icicles on the blood-stained window, her pale body lays in horrifying grace

Sunk in cheeks
Charcoal eyes
Her soul empty
gone.
Nothings left.

She feels only a slight tug as his fist curves into her fragile skull once again, smashing her petite figure into the window.

shatter
the beautiful icicle is exploded into a millon pieces and so the glass.

As her tired face hits the window sil
You can almost feel the break of her jaw as it crushes beneath the weight of his tremendous blow.

Her eyes are still open

But she is now completely gone

The last of her life shattered away with the icicle formed by her last breath.

v.v