i spray your perfume on my wrist
rub them together, hoping for the best
i see my veins swell as it crawls up my arm
tattooing your name through my bloodstream
my body is having an allergic reaction
to the smell of you, and i'm holding on
remember the smell of your skin that day
mid-afternoon, hidden away
i remember the first time i touched your chest
after that, i forget the rest
these memories are crawling on me like scars
and i rush to put my wrist under water
but its too late
or maybe its fate
i'm tattooed with the thought of you
my blood runs all shades of grey
my heart slows down, ready to take me away
in a trance, back in your arms
and the feeling of your lips on mine
back to those days when everything was alright
and home wasn't confined to a spray of a perfume
or the scent of the past
these days it seems home grows further
every time i get closer

delusions:
i feel your energy like a lung collapse and
carry it in my chest like cholera, i feel it when i inhale and exhale and it rots the flesh around my ribs. i imagine living in this place and figure it’s not all too bad, insects boring holes in week-old ravioli unattended on the crusted over stove and the smell of *** and the humidity and small talk while we’re waiting for the drugs like how often are you and your boyfriend having ***? and are you going to the fair tonight? and where does your mother think you are?

hallucinations:
she speaks to me from the corner, her and her ***** fingernails picking marshmallows out of dollar store halloween cereal and flushing them cause she doesn’t need the calories and she tells me that strawberry blonde is her new favorite color. i imagine the deterioration of her teeth in my mind as a time lapse, i find myself wishing i was the crust in her gums. i find myself wishing i was the stains on her shorts, the feel of her hands, i want to be the knife in your back

disorganized speech or behavior:
it takes me a minute to realize she’s speaking to me, more like speaking at me, asking me why my hands twitch and i clench them so they stop. i want to tell her i think her crooked teeth are beautiful. i want her to tell me she likes the color of my eyes or the dip in my waist or the scars on my hands, she just tells me this is all part of the process, what process?  she says be patient, she says my time will come, she says she feels the same things i feel and i realize this scares me

using someone until they put


out





and thinking you're better than you are.





i don't care who's the one thinking it.

please put the blade down, put the alcohol down, put the pills back in the bottle, put the rope back in the garage, put the belt back on the rack, put the gun back in the safe, and throw that note away. instead, pick up the phone and call someone you love, pick up the pen and paper and write how you feel, call 1-800-273-8255, cry it out, punch a pillow, go hug your parents. because let me tell you, as tempting as it is, death is not the answer. you may think you're doing everyone a favor; you may think everyone is better off, but honey that's just not true. your friends will search for you in everyone new they meet, they will search for a laugh that sounds like yours or a joke that sounds like one you would tell or a personality that even slightly resembles yours, in hopes to catch a glimpse of you. they will think of you during the day and will dream of you at night. they will think of every single thing you have ever said to them and wonder what they missed, what they could have done better and why things are as ****** up as they are. your mom will be completely broken. every piece of her heart will be scattered along, all over the place. your dad will shut down emotionally, wondering what more he could've taught you and wondering if he was really that bad of a father. please understand you will break more hearts than you think youd be saving. losing you will put clouds over peoples heads and bitterness and grief in their hearts. please, do not do it. do not take away the most precious thing you own. your life. please. you are worth so much more. someone out there loves you.