my tongue and brain
must be best friends
they're both completely useless
spongy, yet unforgiving

you can approach me,
and i may approach you
but all of my words will take a swan dive
and commit group suicide
the second you try to speak to me

shine a flashlight in my eye sockets
if you'd like
but my skull is a ghost mall,
empty and vapid

my thoughts are racing but
not in a straight line
they're stuck on a treadmill
with no where to run

you can stare at me in my gaudy clothes
every loud opinion splattered on my skin
but although my sleeves are brimming with careful theories,
there is nothing inside my skull

for months,
not a single sentence have i written about you
but not writing about you
and not thinking about you
are two different things

By "that," I mean your current negative emotional-dependency attachment, and by "healthy," I mean neurotic and exhausting.

i think i still love you despite everything
how i wish you hurt me harder

there is plenty of time in the world,

just not enough for us

he was as beautiful
as he was cold