I'm a ******* psychopath
Chew me up and spit you out
The smoking gun at my fingertips
One taste, one touch
That's all this is.

Getting better, getting nowhere
Steps that twist concave
Round and round the ******* garden
I know how but
I won't behave.

Little whispers, seeing mirrors
The light flashes but no ones home
How many pushes will it take you
To stumble, I'll keep at it
I can hack it
what else is a lunatic to do?

One more secret
slicing soon to retire
the sound that
comes unbidden
I need you
and how I wish I didn't.

"They were not well matched", she says idly

and I catch my breath, sharp winter air bleaching frosted
lungs, scoring skin into breached, breathless, baited sections
as the chambers and valves seize within, sickening

"Such a nice boy", she mumbles, "lovely eyes"

so nice, lips that tasted of stinging sweetness which strayed (stay) strayed and those bruised autumn irises, fighting fire with indifference,
burning tired grey witness to listless ******* ash.

"I wonder where he is now," that crinkled, crinoline mouth utters

wind howling, battering, shrieking of devastation,
fingers clawing cold, brittle blue skin, souring breath with
desperation's pant, oh, please, tell me-

"Not for you to care."

undeniable

in the falling snow, in the striking silence, suffocation sinking in,
sat still with the jagged old woman,
who knows or doesn't know, who cares or doesn't care,

Do you still think of me?

Do you remember the blaze of my breath
pausing taut once more before yours?

No.

The day you told me, plucked up by a poor mans spine
shucked beneath your skin, I whimpered to behold
treacherous lips, last imprisoned by another.

A dry river of salt flowed static down my skin and you laughed.

Parked a pistol at my temple,
with rough fingers and parched breath frozen, indecision fraught.

But letting go was enough.

Sometimes, you endure resolute in my thoughts
like fingers wrapping again around this throat,
singing sorrow when, stupidly, I look too closely.

I cannot foresee time when thought of you
stops shattering these shards that remain.

And I hope you still think of me,
but what use is that.

You go out
not for long, be back by 5.

6 hits like a slap to the face,
smarting, pain turns to anger.

"Will you be back soon?"
Pride bites cheeks, sore from asking.

Half an hour is the parody of reply,
but I wait anyway.

45 minutes and no sound of return,
I burn on the sofa.

Anger grows, a deafening shout of
hatred unleashed, aimed at you

it still lands on me. I leave,
footsteps tracing concrete promises.

Late, I return, you stand with greeting on
fermented lips, I ignore your eyes

and tell you everything is fine. You get
angry now too.

We both burn, you hold weary righteousness
and I, a fire fed by something

I don't even understand.

There was a full stop
hedged on a semi-colon,
but you just flew straight through both.

A train wreck thunderstorm, lightning bolt
smiles that were just a touch too bright.

One thing fell and then another, repeated,
endless cycles of your closed eyes, averted face,
until the pebbles that fell graduated to stones,
to boulders, and you turned and ran towards them.

Each step was a decision, each step another false idea,
another pathetic tragedy, trapped in viscous thought
as silence became a screaming, scorching pain after
you chose to become the enemy.

I was here, I was breathing, I was one step away
from you. But you did not reach for me, you did
not speak. You did not call. I left my phone on for you but
you did not call.

You stole secret to the edge and ripped yourself asunder.
You wrapped your fingers around our throats.
You decided to disappear your problems, to rest in pieces.
You resolved we should be the ones left to suffer,
standing perpetually in your shadow.

I still suffer. I am still here. I am still breathing, but it
is no thanks to you. Your mother cannot look at me anymore.
She says I remind her too much. She doesn't breathe,
she doesn't talk, she doesn't call.

She is the remnant you left behind, cast off like an old coat,
worn and weary and wasted.

Do you remember me? Do either of you remember me?
I cannot do it anymore.

Your legacy is made of salt and water
and all I want to do is forget.

Brother. Mother. Sister;
the family tree is dead.

One drop
and then another

rolling down dusty cracks in a windowpane;
as transparent as the clouds.

Here they fall, whispering widows
traces as substantial

as the autumn leaves
when the wind whimpers,

as substantial as your smile
when I'm not looking.

The drops simmer on,
down the desert of expression

fall down down down
and I will

make sure to look the other way.

How do I explain that
today is a day I loathe myself
till red raw bones slip out of
their skin cages and bitter tendons

snap snap snap, ribs twisted,
fingernails gripping this bloodless face
white polka dot prints darkening
later to purple, I want to run away

but I cannot leave this house, I want
to forget but not to forgive, burning acid
sickening my stomach, I ***** hatred
at the mirror, there is nothing

good here, there is only
violence spinning a coin
and me.