chugging nyquil
with black haired girls
in the bathroom, with my bones shivering in anticipation
and cold,
at the same time
it hit half an hour later,
my hands are covered in charcoal
my thoughts are sinking to the
muddy bottom,
i stare at the space just above the clock for a little,
swaying to the rhythm
"why'd you only call me when you're high?"
well,
i'm not high
but i'm drifting somewhere in between
and i only wish
i could hear your voice.

I am made up of an entire soul
Completely furnished with potential and with life.
That can love with a love that love has not imagined.
And I have thoughts that rage on like the rain beats against a window in the dead of February.
As the rain greets the Valentine's on their way to their nights I listen to my heart
Beat.
Beat.
Beat against my chest.
The strings of the violin I left at the church play on and on like a love song barely out of tune.
As the G and the D and the A and the E tell me to go
From the church that's too far for me to visit after so much wine.
I might sleep.
I might do a lot of things.
I might even write poetry.
But one thing I'll certainly do is love
with a love that love cannot even fathom.
And my heart may beat out of my chest.
And my lungs may collapse.
But I will love
until my heartstrings tear apart with yearning.
And then I'll drink more wine and pretend.
I don't love anything at all when we all know
That's just not true.

I like
Coffee
As a motif
For reasons I don't even know.
I think sometimes it's because wine comes and goes
But Coffee.
Coffee.
Coffee
I have every night.
To keep me up thinking about the
Bitter taste
That life leaves in my mouth.
Sometimes I think that it's coffee,
The one thing I have in common
With the rest of humanity,
That keeps me alive.
Maybe I need to be awake to feel
What coffee does to me
What you don't do to me.
You should do to me.
Coffee.
Coffee doesn't confuse me.
And coffee tastes the same.
And coffee comes
And coffee stays.
And wine.
And people,
They just don't.

This is exorcism.

I walk from home to school from work back home and my eyes stopped changing shades.

All kinds of demons try to get out of me as I stare to nothing in particular and it scares me.

I would fight or run if only I had the energy. Or the courage. Or the fear.

My eyes used to change shades.

The many
blows of time
fall savage
upon my soul

Of the first time I saw you.
You wore a Barcelona football shirt and
you were so tanned
and happy and didn't look at me
for a second.

Of that time in your attick
with Ed Sheeran on repeat and
we looked at eachother for hours
with our skin pressed and
our voices broken.

Of the fight we had one week before
you told me we were through.
And I catch myself thinking maybe
I should have just shut up and ****** you.

Of the trainride of two hours from
sober to what the ****
and all of a sudden it was just us
in a tent and your lips on my soul.

Of the smoking area where you jumped
me and when we kissed for the first time
and you licked my face because I laughed
at you and ran away.
(This one is ruined. The exact same thing.)

Of two weeks before the end
when you were the sweetest you ever were
and I was so happy and in love
while you already wasn't.

Of you holding my hand when you
saw me getting scared
when that crazy guy walked past us
and you never ever asked me how did he
scare me but comforted me anyway.

Of you sitting on my couch telling your friend
isn't she the cutest thing you've ever seen
and him agreeing and me making you tea.

Of you calling me snoezepoez
and making cat sounds and me
listening to them on repeat.

Of you on my birthday.
You were the only one there at twelve o'clock and
you didn't know if I was going to like it and
I fell in love right then and there.