i’ve spent the last
six months of my life
dying to die
with no results.
and in that time i’ve
been walking
on a sidewalk that
is crooked and cracked
into some godforsaken
place. through my journeys
i’ve come to rely
on two certainties:
that i will go to bed
unsatisfied and hungry.

and every night is
a rainy one and cats eat
the fur and bones of dogs dead
in the flooded gutters. the grey
monoliths of the city
are always a step away, but
i don’t get any closer.

and if i could give back
all the cigarette ash and whiskey
i’ve drank i’d do it because
i’d be losing blank meaningless
memories, or at least
they mean nothing to me. i can’t
say the same about
those people in the memories.

and i passed the corner
where i sat drunk on the brick
with my friend, smoking
a cigarette and i remember
telling him that it was
going to be alright. i don’t
know if i was lying or if
i didn’t know the truth
but he left.

and i walked by the home
of my first love and the windows
were dark and the cars were
gone from the driveway.

and i found myself in front
of the house of the girl
i loved who didn’t love me
and the air was black, save
for the glare of a lighter through
the rain and i remembered
a dream i had.

those **** eyes
those **** lips
cry black lies
slash like whips

whiskey and a cigarette
that's how i forget

those **** eyes
those **** lips
your sweet sighs
and fingertips

you make me feel gross
the way you touched me
and talk to me.
the lies to fed to me
and the way you let me
believe the **** that
you told other girls
you're gross.
and i hate every
single thing
about
you.

My room is a mausoleum
Housing this living corpse.

The windows are always shut
And the lightbulb stays off.

A fan on the ceiling blows,
Though not hard enough, 24/7.

There're empty water bottles
Discarded on the floor

By the dozens serving as
Unofficial decor.

Filthy clothes everywhere
Mingle happily as

If ****** with the ramen cups
And chocolate wrappers.

A skyscraper built from books
Raises it's ink stained arms

Up towards the concrete sky
Pleading, crying, to be read.

Crumpled papers, like scriptures
Belonging to God, yell

Unfinished lines of poetry
During the Dead's strolling.

The aroma of burnt cigs
Stains the air and green walls.

Another wine bottle hides
In the closet, elixir

For the trapped. A skull, candles,
And a pack of tarot

Sit expression less and
Calm inside the nightstand.

Posters and poems line the walls,
Their eyes observe the goings.

A bed, the coffin, stands deep
In the peering darkness,

Stiff and terrible, alone,
A headstone slab pillow,

Accommodate the carcass.

-
-
*My eyes love you so much—
I only wanted to see two of you.
I only wanted to see two of you.

I'm starting to wonder if these old ways I detest
are part of my flesh.
The cuts on my wrists, instead of healing,
become a playground for my demons.
Rid me of this!
Rid me of this please!
For I'm reaching a point of barely being able to breath.
Melancholic joy.
Irate surrender to the voices in my head
that wish me dead.
In desperate escape, I reach a barred door.
The pain would not be this intense if I had not tasted freedom before.
While I scream, they sing.
While I drown, they swim.
Never again.
I dream of never again.

we had plans to watch Moulin Rouge for months
to curl up on the sofa with sweet and salted popcorn
to listen to the songs which you thought summed up
everything we felt.

we had plans to have word wars together
all in the name of NaNoWriMo of course
to write and write until we both got fed up of
everything we'd created

we had plans to go wherever our hearts longed to be
i wanted to go back to my home, and you said you'd follow
not only for your career but so together we could grow up
everything we dreamed of

but now im sitting on the couch munching away on my own
wondering how many words you've done while im writing by myself
ive cancelled my plans to travel, i dont want to go alone
nothing seems right without you.

~E.Y.