i’m so disgusting— grease-stained, paint-stained, dust and decay. the label said dry-clean only but you put me on a rinse-and-dry cycle and called it a day. i’m all cleaned up but nothing fits the same. is this what they call salvation? scrub the sins from our sooty souls, leave them in the sun to shrink, shrivel like snails burned by salt. take it back, give it back, give me back; i’m spotless but it feels so wrong.
     how do i repay you? credit? cash? my intestines looped like garlands in my arms, my heart like a pulsing jewel in my palm? i can’t afford an arm and a leg so that would have to do. your service has left me in shrunken skin; when i burst at the seams it’ll be my guts that splatter on the floor. look, it’s not like paying you back would be hard (it still hurts still hurts).
     you tried to fix me but now i’m worse than worthless. no one wants someone they can’t show the world. it’s your fault, your fault (i’m still to blame). you made me this way, i begged for it in the first place. this wasn’t supposed to be a ******* diy. read the label next time, *******.

gods don't spare whispers
for wretches like me
you never gave hint
of your divinity

drowning apathy,
   see me cry-
   bleed me dry-
i want to kiss the sun.

choking melancholy,
   ate my heart-
   break my heart-
it still can’t feel a thing.

these ebbing tidal waves
          i ache
               i suffocate.

duct taped seams,
i’m coming apart.
was i this way before?
faded dreams
ache most in the dark.
it’s too easy to let go.

did something die inside?
     cut lifeline-
     butterflies-
or is it just asleep?

these flowing tidal waves
          i shake
               i just can’t take this.

it’s easy? no.
it’s far too hard to let go.

here's the broken hourglass
sand slipping through fingers
into open air

here's the crooked clock
ticking counterpoint to heartbeats
thumping off-tempo

here's the stopwatch, button jammed
digits melting into each other
a count-up to the end

out of sync
out of time
out of control

*countdowns only last 'til you explode

he writes the kind of music that
     thrums
the way your blood just can't.
you're never more alive than
the roar of your soul
chasing after that drumbeat
     (the piper only had to change his tune)
he could unmake you
reduce you to bass and thrashing vocals
'til you're bursting with sound
so larger than life
you'd bleed and burn to feel it again

if the clouds were waves above my head
then let me breathe in
and drown amongst the stars

it’s harder to let go the second time
when it’s been eight years and
the baby fat is gone from her cheeks
frumpy uniform now bold skirt and boots

but her eyes are still the same
and her gait still pulls you into her orbit
you’re a comet that’s circling back after all these years

she commands the air you breathe in
you’d empty your lungs for her again and again
there’s a puppet string tied to your heart
tugging you along after her

she hasn’t changed a bit.

but this time you’re just a dusty toy
tossed aside for fresher faces
and all you’re left with is
blurred memories
a longing in your chest
for the time when you knew her best