the space between listening and hearing,
that's where you'll find my hiding place;

where i go when the words get too fast
and the sounds get too loud

the mirror sits on the edge of the desk
shining with anticipation
for the day
i find my first wrinkle

mirrors, more than most things, know
that youth is fleeting:
skin does not stay tight
eyes become hollowed out like melons

but mirrors, like most, have a fatal flaw:
they hope too far

i pray they don't weep
when i'm buried
before i find my first wrinkle

carbon and gasoline
drowning the world in black

that's okay, i was in the mood for a swim anyway

i say every smoke
is the last one
because it's fun to pretend

but i'm starving for another
and i can't even make believe that it'll be my last

my skin is under my fingernails, now
a daisy caught in my throat
maple syrup dripping from my eyes
bloodshot heart from reading your texts past midnight

i'm not sure if you love me
even though you wrote the words all over my neck

my stomach is full of rotted apple cores
i have a cigarette for dinner and wash it down with four unread messages
tripping over expiration dates on my way to bed
i don't dream of you for the first time in a long time
i dream of ***** dishes