Rolling hills tripped by barbed wire.
Treacherous mountains humbled by roads.
The pink sky cries.

You'd think by now my ankle would have healed,
but I keep walking on it,
there's just no way.
They all told me to get crutches,
but I couldn't find any.
I tried to ignore it,
but that didn't help,
it only made it worse.
So now I have this two month old sprained ankle
with no signs of healing.
I know how to fix it
but It's not likely to happen.

There is no need for zippers in the future.
We only use buttons.
Easier to undo,
they require only one swift motion
while zippers require two.
some say we digress,
but we simply resort to practicality.
a zipper can get caught,
a button just falls off.
a zipper can lose teeth,
a button just falls off.
a zipper eventually rusts,
a button just falls off.
But we can always just sew the button back on.
That is why we choose buttons in the future.

See you later.
Actually, I hope later never comes.

I still hate you by the way.

But today's about something different.

It’s a toss up between

valiant hero and dead *******.

Wish I could be the hero

but looks like I’m going to end up the dead *******.

I saw her glance down at her child in the stroller.
A limp body, a sagging head.
I couldn't read her eyes.
Seemed torn between disappointment and regret.
The baby in her womb told me it was regret.

He keeps tormenting us,
even after her death.
This ******* keeps tormenting us,
even after He kills her.
Today He's making me get dressed,
to drive to His award ceremony.
He's making my father write a speech,
to thank Him for killing his wife.
He'll keep following my sister around school
to make sure she cries in front of all the right people.
The ones that will laugh and ridicule.
Congratulations you *******,
you coward,
you win.

I woke up this morning without a clock.
I woke up to your voice.
Your voice was loud,
you're only a couple miles away after all.
You spoke hesitantly but strongly.
I, with my eyes closed and my hands at my side,
listened with a sigh hanging in my throat,
and a quiver at my lips.
You spoke hesitantly with minimal eye contact.
You said,
"I want to be single."
That doesn't answer my question
I think I like the buzz of the clock better that your voice

My tears are pretty good at fighting.
They've already seen two deaths this month,
let's see what action they get next month.
These were human deaths too,
not just a goldfish or a ******* ferret.
These were long drawn out deaths of suffering people,
and my tears ****** the **** out of them.
Lately I find myself holding the tears back though.
I just scrunch up my mouth
and swallow the tears.
Force them back with my tongue.
On second thought,
I'm not quite looking forward to next month.

****, I guess my legs aren't working quite right lately.
I'm taking awkward steps you know.
Some big, some small,
and they're all mixed up.
And I don't seem to be going in any direction at all.
Some times I go right, then sometimes left.
And I walk backwards. A lot.
A whole lot.
Some big steps, some small steps,
even when I'm walking backwards.
Just imagine how tough that is.

I'll fly a kite with you.
Why not right?
I'll fly a kite with you.
We can go to a park,
or the beach,
or we can just fly it from your balcony.
Not much wind today though.
I'll go get the fan.

You sat on the couch so indifferently.
I sat on the floor, my back against a ball,
directly across from you.
Red lights strung above our heads,
you towered.
Fangs, small fangs, exposed with every
-ey, -ay, i-, -ie, -ape, -ate, -eat, -ee-,
smile, and grin, etc.
I just kept looking up at you,
our eyes always made contact.
Yours were red.

You seem so happy,
destroying yourself and your bonds.
Why would I want to take that away from you?
I just want you to tell me,
tell me that you want to destroy yourself and your bonds,
instead of keeping me attached by a knotted rope
and bringing me down with you.

Eric,
Happy Birthday!
I love you very much.
May God bless you
& protect you
always.
I'll be dead in 64 days,
so make sure to wash the dishes
before your Dad gets home.
Let's see,
there are some frozen patties in the freezer.
Once those run out
you can usually get them on sale,
two for ten.
Here's my pin number. I know you always forget it,
5-1-8-8.
Make sure your Dad takes his medication.
I know you'll make the right choices,
even if they aren't the one's that I want.
Love.
Mom.

I'm still on the verge of tears.
But only on the verge.
I feel my sockets fill to the brim,
but not one tear spills out.
Can't I feel a rolling tear?
Can't I feel it down my cheek,
and taste it in the corner of my mouth?
I want a stream to run down the bridge of my nose
and watch them dangle at the tip.
Like that time I scraped my knee,
and you gave me hell for it.
I just wonder why I can't cry.

Seems fitting that a mattress store would be open at 2am.
Maybe I'll stop by one day.
Wonder if that's where all of us go.
Maybe I'll stop by one day
and pick up a twin,
seems fitting.

This cough's my grandma saying she'll be right next door if I need anything.
She never sleeps,
her eyes are closed but she never sleeps.
She's warning me that he's coming for me,
I'm just not ready to admit it.

Put your boxing gloves on
or your dancing legs,
whatever they are.
I remember that day like it was 3 months ago.
We were all together , especially me and you.
I don't believe I kissed you goodnight that time.

I wanted you with me today,
the first day that I cried in so long.
I wanted you there to hold my hand
like you did so many weeks ago.
I wanted you to watch me cry
with those marble eyes of yours
until you started to cry as well.
Then your small lips sagging,
trying to speak.
But you don't need to speak,
I'll hold your hand
like you did for me so many weeks ago.

You told them the other day
that you felt clear-headed, confident, and genuinely happy.
Wonder why you haven't told me yet.
Maybe you thought I wouldn't want to know.
Doesn't matter I guess.
I knew after that bike ride you took to the bay,
the one with all those willow trees,
that you longed for the knife of that butcher.
That butcher guy that you used to hang around with.
What's his name again..
Doesn't matter I guess.
I just wish you would tell me why you are so happy.

Ha.
The day of my mother's funeral some poor sap was being baptized.
Good luck son.
From behind the thick glass separating our
small,
gloomy,
tear ridden
death chapel and their
stupid,
smile splintered,
dry eyed hall
you could hear roars of applause.
Each time we fell silent, they applauded.
Coincidence of course, but disturbing none the less.
If only they knew that as they applaud  and smile, that poor sap,
dressed in white
and drenched on holy water and oils,
is dying. He's already begun his decent. Maybe some time soon I'll be on the other side of the glass.
Blinded by the gleam of a
naked,
wet baby bottom.

The sun is up,
it's beautiful.
My window pane is no barrier for such a force.
My clock is reset,
my eye lids are up.
Extending my limbs past my head
my ears get momentarily cloudy.
When I sit up,
it's beautiful.
My window pane is hardly a barrier for such a force.
A sibling's groan,
It means they're up.
Thank you sun for setting my clock.
My window pane is hardly a barrier for your grace.
I feel heavy,
but my eye lids are up.
My mother died this morning.

They keep popping up all over town.
My sister's zit come and go at the same rate.
They are there to hold your hand
and squeeze it when you start to cry.
But they come and go.

You make me so very happy
when you turn your cheek.
I reach for your lips
but instead I get an ear.
What?

It felt nice to hold her again.
Basketting her with my arms and legs,
I brought our bodies closer together.
She had that same heavy breathing from before.
She put her head on my shoulder
and I put mine on hers.
She stroked my arm.
It's been about 4 months since she's done that.
It's been about 4 months since I've held her like this.
I still don't understand why.
She says the same.
I guess I blame it on
myself.
I know it's not my fault,
but I'll blame myself.
I blame it on myself.

Hit me i deserve it
everything I did makes me deserve it
Hit me I deserve your punch.
A punch, not a slap.
I want a closed fist.
Really clenched, tight tight tight.
and BOOM!
full power.
I'd prefer lower left Jaw,
but anywhere is fine.

You said we can't kiss till Easter. 
Who says I'll want to kiss you on Easter. 
Who says I want to kiss you now. 
Now you want to kiss me, 
After changing your dresses and hair and nails. 
And after 
getting-it-out-of-your-system, you want to kiss me. 
I want to kiss you on Easter. 
I want to kiss you right now,
I want to pull your hair and and smear you lipstick.
But I won't tell you that. 
Last time I did you ****** on my tires.

Your body heat,
your hair tickling my face,
the hot air from your opened mouth on my forehead,
the small sighs of relief that came every now and then,
those random kisses and embraces that you seemed to do in your sleep.
I stayed awake for all of them.

You know,
I don't know why I'm so scared.
Probably because of what I'm expecting you to expect.
But if anyone knows hows ****** up expectations are,
it's me.
So when the time comes,
I'm just gonna **** the **** out of you.

On a more disturbing note I found a man that was half dead in my bed this morning.
He had a picture in his hand of a woman.
Probably one he had never even met.
She was naked and beautiful
Too beautiful
For this man to have.
There was no chance that a man half dead such as this could ever walk along side a woman of her caliber.
She was the artist, in his mind at least. When he closed his eyes he saw her face instead of the actress.
Imagined her ******* instead of the actress
Her hair instead of the actress
Her ****** instead of his hand.
But
All there was, was this half dead man with a vivid imagination.
The artist was far away
and didn’t even know about his feelings.
And so I called her and described this half dead man on my bed,
And she said
“no I don’t know him. I don’t love him neither.”
And that was it. Just enough to convince me that I was this man, not half dead ,
But dead.

Today the tears rolled down my cheeks.
Finally,
after what has seemed to be a drought over the Amazon.
My lids filled to the brim
overflowing into the valleys
at the base of my nose,
across my lips,
and at the cleft of my chin.
Even rolling down my neck,
if the picture called for it.
My lids filled to the brim,
drenching my fingers.
Filling the valleys at their tips.
Every crevice taking full advantage of this nourishment.
Who knew how long it would last,
or when it would come again.

I'm sweeping up the last bit of your hair.
I've already steamed the couches and rid them of your scent.
You're gone.
And now my memory is jogged.
From time to time things jog my memory.
Things like walking out the front door, those times you tried to run away.
And taking a bath, you bathed here once.
And laying in my bed where your warmth was welcomed.
Mundane things that I can't escape.

I wish i could let a tear fall from at least one eye.
But when I try,
all I get is a puff of dust,
For I have not cried since yesterday.
Well actually it's been about a month,
but the sensation's been there.
I'm not sure why the tears don't come.
The sensation's been the all the while.
I'm always crying.

What will happen when i lose my hair?
I will look ugly.
I will cry with my eyes closed.
I don't want to take that pill,
it will make me ugly.
I shouldn't have to take that pill,
if it will make me ugly.
I shouldn't have to take that pill
just because it will keep me alive.
But,
I think i want to be alive.
So I will take the pill
and become ugly and cry.

It's true,
that night,
I got home and searched
"How to cope with the loss of a loved one?"
Yeah I know,
pathetic.
But I didn't know what else to do.

Don't go in the water with him.
My bathtub is filled and warm.
The ocean is too cold.
Please do not go in the water with him.
Look, Look, I have bubbles,
he only has foam.
Do not, do not, do not, go in the water with him.
I, will carve into my chest for you
and tint my water red.
Don't ******* go in the water with him!
I have the deepest tub, and the warmest water.
Why don't you understand?
My tub is full and warm and red,
but even as i scream your back is turned to me.
Your smile aimed, pointed at the wrong, wrong, wrong person.
I'll wait for you,
pitying my self in my deep, warm, red water
with a skewed smile.

I’m walking backwards right?

I can’t quite tell.

I’m trying to go forwards

but I can’t seem to gain enough momentum.

It’s hard when you’re going backwards,

to go forwards that is.

Maybe I should just go backwards,

if there is even such a thing at all.

Sometimes I lick my lips,
pretending it's you with me.
But my tongue is far too rough.
And it doesn't fit in my mouth the way yours did.

You're pretending to know what you want,
so next time you reach for my neck
I'll turn away.
I can't waste my time on moments like these.

Just got off the phone with you.
Hope I didn't just hear him in the background.
Maybe it's my self doubt causing hallucinations again,
but I'm almost certain I heard his murmur from behind you.
It was a nice conversation.
You spoke normal enough.
I pictured you lying in bed,
the darkness made your skin look gray,
and you were just smiling with one hand on the phone
and one hand under the covers.
Then I heard his murmur,
something like one or two words,
and the picture changed.
Please tell me it was my echo.

My favorite part about the way you killed her
was watching her gasp for air.
Remember when they engaged the morphine drip?
Yeah, right around there is when her lungs started to give out.
That was my favorite part.
Watching her gasp for air,
and cough, and ask for water
because her mouth was so dry
from knowing that within a few hours
she would be dead.
She knew that as she sat there,
gasping for air,
she was wasting her time and breath.
Because she knew that you were ******* killing her.

We were all in the room.
But I'm almost certain I'm the only one that saw you.
Sitting there, legs crossed at the knees,
hands behind your head,
toothpick at your teeth,
and with that ******* grin you always wear.
And you just stared at me,
with those ****** eyes of yours,
because you knew that I couldn't do anything.
You knew we were all helpless.

I leave a pillow open next to me at nights,
just in case
on some fortunate night,
you come out of my dreams.

I feel hollow,
to be honest.
I'll float in the ocean
until I'm dragged down by some powerful fish.
And even then,
it will be a struggle for the fish.

I used to imagine my mother was dead
whenever I wanted to cry.
It doesn't seem to work anymore.

I just let out a great big sigh.
May have been my biggest sigh yet.
Within reason of course.
I'm all alone tonight.
Again.
You get to do all your fancy things
like church and school,
and when you want me I come.
But how about when I want you?
When I want you,
you just don't answer.
Too busy with fancy things
like church and school.
But still,
when you want me
I will come.

If it wasnt for our sweaters
we would freeze.
I wonder what flies do. 
I've seen them,
moving slowly,
Their wings fluttering half as fast as when it's 80 degrees. 
Maybe I'll invent a sweater for those animals.
The ones that suffer.
Even the flies.

I rode my bike home tonight,
on the road,
with all my lights off
in hopes that a car would hit me.
That way it would just look like an unfortunate accident.
That way I wouldn’t have to tell my dad I love him,
and my sisters to stay in school.
That way I wouldn’t have to ask them to forgive me.
But I made it home safe tonight.

Some days I'm fine.
Some days I get angry at things.
Some days I can't get out of bed.
I use your body to feel better.
I use your voice to keep me going.
I use your picture to remind me that I'm still alive.
When I can't feel you
or hear you
or see you
I get angry at things
and I can't get out of bed.
There's my cycle.

You're the type that wears hats because that's what you're supposed to do.
And cuts your sleeves because she did it too, and she likes it.
Whats going to happen when you've exhausted your resources?
I won't help you dress.

I didn’t know a person could be this happy,
feel this light.
The kind that is in relation to weight.
Three words can change a persons life
and three words can change a person weight.
His shoulders will move easier
His legs will move swifter
His back will stand taller
His head will tilt upwards
The side walk on which he walks is equally happy,
For there is less lifting to be done.

These days I sleep naked
so it could be like our nights of deep slumber.
Only now its just myself.
Caressing my own arms,
tracing the outline of my own face.
My own breaths keeping me awake.
I liked it better when yours were to blame.