Swinging in sync with the sunrise, your hair
becomes tangled with the clouds.
Grab a fistful of sunlight
and kick the top of the snowglobe sky
until the whole world can hear
your glass shattering joy.
But the thrill of free falling to the dirt
ground while skipping the burn of the crash
developed a dangerous mentality.
You practiced falling faster than shooting stars
above, like you were a lost rocket
not knowing what planet was your destination,
but sweating tears to get away from
childhood.
Mutiny of the mind and now you're trapped
in a new dimension of adulthood and reality.
Everything is strange and foreign and as you declare
that this wasn't your original mission
you realize that life is a one way mirror
and there's only death on the other side
to interrogate you. The sky is the same hue but the rain
falls colder and harsher and you no longer try
to catch the droplets on your tongue. You begin
to accept that tragedies and fairytales taste
the same, because stories can only have one ending.

I will write my secrets upon petals
and rip them up, bury the shreds
in the hallows of my ribs, and ****
your seeds of doubt in the process.
I will sleep till spring, so that when
I awake, maybe something besides
trouble will finally
bloom. Its heavy, my skin
soaked with stress
the nerves in my spine have electrified
and now my lungs are smoking
and crackling like a burnt fuse
and my heart ticks down
to the explosion.

I don't know what I'm looking for
when I look into your face. Maybe
reassurance
that it's not just a mask.

I don't know what I'm writing for
when I pick up a pen,
except that I want
desperation
to make sense.

I'm beginning to think
I've either forgotten
how to sleep
or how to live.

Console me.
I can't do it myself.

Pet me, make me feel like I'm alright.
I have no idea
what it's like
to feel
CALM.
I think I'm finally crazy. Look me in the eye, judge me
see the red rims
witness
my complete instability.

Even shame is too exhausting now.

Hold my hands so they'll stop shaking. If I look in the mirror
one more time
I might punch my reflection.
I'm ready to be alive now.

I am bad with fragile things.
I like the noise of glass crunching
into sharp shards
I like watching
skin rip like silk.
*I want you to love me more than I hate myself.

I'm getting tired of walking into brick walls
Wherever I go. This time when I talked to you
It didn't sting as much because I now know to shower
In acid before we converse. I don't mock you... Ever.
I have never laid a figurative finger on you,
Yet when I open up, even if it's just a small splice

Down the center of my chest, you swat away what I
Have to say like it's nothing but a pest. So, I will humour
You, since the only thing your low opinion of me does
Now is amuse me. I chew on your words, let them cut
The inside of my mouth like knives. Your look, your laugh
Resonate within me until I am thoroughly encompassed

By a magnified mocking so alive I can't tell where that
Image ends and I begin.

I'm trying to match
the beat of my heart with yours,
and I'm beginning to truly understand
what the basis of an abusive relationship
is like. We're nothing but porcelain
dolls
that have shattered into a million
shards, and glued back together into
a mocking semblance of "what if"...

Parts of our anatomy
are missing, now: hands, so that
we can't
hold one another, my cognitive
dissonance
so that I may never fully feel the handicaps and
disabilities
of You+Me.
But I can't
just leave.
You are a fraction of my soul.
I am an even lesser fraction of yours.

I should be afraid
of the fact that we've deteriorated
into nothing but shadows, fleeting
and haunting each other's heads.
But I am more afraid
that it's just me
who feels this way-
that I'm alone with your ghosts,
while you never
even saw
mine at all.

Isolated, behind windowed curtains. It's at 2am,
your room feels like jail and
insomnia
like venom injected in your veins.

These days I'm looking at the moon for guidance,
waning away until I find a layer inside me
that isn't sick
with longing that physically hurts.

I'm searching
for loopholes in fate
and connections between drowning
and black holes to **** me dry.

My blood is just below
simmering,
but I lack the spark
in my eyes.

I need
to go to sleep
so I can dream
to be alive.

Dear-

Whoever
Will listen. I'm jealous of the
Places you call home. There is blood on the floor
From my heart clenching so tightly
And it's starting to stain my skin like
I'm a crime scene.
I know that this is lust
And if people have affairs with cities
I want to sell myself on street corners.

If the doctors told me
I had only one more day to live,
I would have a heart attack
and die right now, before I had another chance
to swallow fresh air like a
drowning man
or soak up sunbeams
like a black hole one
last time.

I'm making promises to myself that soon
I will be conducive, but first I need to shout
my anxiety away
from the top of the tallest building
just so somebody knows
because
on Sunday mornings
you realize that solitude is very different
from loneliness.

I am alive but at a cost of being a breathing cliche,
an old metaphor from bad high school poetry,
scribbled on a used napkin and thrown in the trash.
I am writing love letters to ghosts because I will
understand if I don't get a reply, and because being rejected
from the dead isn't so bad after all.

Each "Yours Truly" scrawled at the bottom
of the page is actually a whole other conversation.
I am telling you I was born to chase
things people can't catch. I feel terrible when
I can't fight and every word of explanation
might as well burst into flames.
Arson could tell it better than I could.

This is where I am in the margins of history,
lost, numb and trying to discover what's
good for my survival. I need to quit
cannibalism because eating hearts in pieces
isn't as good as being given them whole.
Keep your distance.
I am wicked and inside a nice box called disorderly.


                                                   ­                                               -YOURS TRULY,

I burned my lips
for the coffee was too hot this morning
again.

But I'm fine with that
for it felt better than anything else I've been feeling
recently.