She said,
I want to die
Just let me die.
And I felt her words
Throughout the entirety of my soul
Because I knew
I knew.

We sat there stroking her back
He and I.
As she kept saying
I want to die
I looked up at him
And I saw it in his eyes
And he saw it in mine
Because he knew.
He knew.

Three broken people
Sitting at a party together.
Her sober thoughts coming out
As drunk words.
I heard it in her voice,
He saw it in my eyes,
I saw it in his eyes,
And for one second,
None of us were alone
Together we shared the pain.
Because we knew.
We knew.

i want to drink myself into a place no one can reach me
i want the room to spin so i can sit still and feel the world moving and cracking and tectonic plates shifting beneath my feet
i want to dance to music i don't like when i'm sober
i want to feel as beautiful as i feel when i'm drunk every day
i want to drink until all i am left with is empty cups and happy hiccups and i want to call my exes and tell them how lucky they were to have me and how bad timing was never a good excuse
i want to wrap a telephone cord around my fingers and then my body and i want to feel electricity in my hands and i want the world to spin because i tell it to

I remember the innocence of childhood,
like one remembers the smell of their mothers' perfume,
I remember that, too,
easy recollections of railroad ties
and the thrill of hiding
at the bottom of a pool,
hastily replaced with the loneliness
of watching the moon rise
from the center of a midnight field,
overtaken by teenage fury,
violent and vengeful for a stolen childhood,
now adults leaving ink footprints
through the new age,
teeming with a different variety of rage,
unwavering and driven,
lamenting on what could have been

~Leaves of Ink 2017~

i hope i find you someday
again.

walking down the street
as beautiful as the first day
again.

wearing same smile
world in your eyes.

bearing all this while
my reason to be alive.

i hope i find you someday
again.

walking down the street
and it's about to rain.

i hope i see you like that
once again.

i know then,
i'll remember your voice
for in the end,
i had no choice but to
delete you

and now after so many
years without you

i still don't have a clue
if there was any without you

for i can still feel you
in my arms

as if you never left
as if you have always been.

you were right here always
in my dreams,
walking down the street,
like we're still sixteen.

always.

i. when i came home i did weird **** like peeing with the door open and falling asleep with my clothes on

ii. when i came home i ate all of my wife's cooking and i never asked what was in it

iii. when i came home i started counting the number of naps i took a day and i didn't leave my room for a week

iv. when i came home i walked there barefoot and higher than when i left

v. when i got home i didn't just bang dope i shot anything i could break down

vi. when i got home i tried to measure the moments between my wife not loving me and my last OD
and i never made it past six

Four, nearly five years ago, he was 4 years and 11 months my senior. We would stay up most of the night. Together. Then I would wake up and he would be gone. And after a few months it became a normal thing to wake up alone. Undisturbed and a little cold. Make the bed. Put away dishes. Gather my things. Go home. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Until one day he was gone for 8 months. No goodbye. No farewell. Just a break up text and disappointment. I would wake up and he would be gone. But this time he would be thousands of miles away. And all I could think about was water. And where the heck he could possibly be. But not wanting to write, because I didn't want to bother him. But I drank and caved in. I was tired of drowning. It was hot there. Over 100 degrees. He sent pictures and wrote back quickly. He came back. He showed me things he bought from other countries. I smiled again. He showed me more pictures. He got a dog. Fast forward another year. I would wake up and he would be gone. It was a normal thing by now. We had a routine. Make the bed. Put away dishes. Play with the dog. Gather my things. Go home. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Drown. Tell him how I felt. Radio silence. 10ft down. Explain how long I felt that way. No explanation from him. 20ft. No apology. 30ft. Direct questioning on how he felt. Dodged and avoided. 40ft. Go to bed. Wake up. And he's gone again. 50ft. 60ft. And it's cold. I can't feel my toes anymore. And it's getting dark. Play with the dog. 70ft. Make the bed and put away dishes. 80ft. Gather my things. Go home. 90ft. Silence. 100ft. And I'm done. I can no longer breathe. And I can no longer swim. I am sinking. And the pressure of the water is crushing my lungs. For two years I choked on sea water. I lived and I died. I waited. But I didn't cry. At 100ft under the waves tears are pretty pointless. After two years of wanting this thing, this person, I no longer want it. Because it doesn't want me. But I'm still afraid when I wake up. And the bed is empty. And I still panic when someone walks out the door. Because I never know which time will be the last. Or which ocean they're about to cross. And my childlike awe and innocence were thrown overboard and forgotten. It created an obsession for that lifestyle. So I became it. I woke up early. I pushed myself farther than I thought possible. And after years of watching him put his on, I earned my own uniform. And I went back to him. But I felt nothing. I surfaced. I can swim again. I have no feelings. I don't even have ill will anymore. He's only a friend. And there will come a day, quite soon, actually, when he will go home. Halfway across the country. And he won't be back. And I won't see him again. Ever. And that's ok. Because people leave. And sometimes they don't come back. And you're cold and a little disturbed. But you make the bed. Gather your things. And leave. Now the one who has panic attacks, the light sleeper, the one who holds a pillow at night to take the place of a body, and the one who begs you not to go, becomes the one who can't be tied down. She leaves. She drifts. Floating on the waves alone in peace and absolute terror. But not love. Not hate. Because she lost all feeling about 100ft down.

The best part is, 5 years later you're begging for me to enter your life again. Once or twice a week, you're inviting me out with you and your friends. You're asking me what I've been up to, where have I been and why haven't I seen you lately. But I'm here. I have always been here. You were the one who left. Every morning. Your time has passed. I was young and dumb. Which is why you probably never cared much. Understandable. I grew up. And now you see my worth. But so do I. And I will never allow myself to be disrespected like that again. Lesson learned. Now it's your turn to wake up alone. Make your bed. Put away your dishes. Gather your things and go home.

oh you are a beauty, showing your legs,                dress swinging.



in rhythm. in photos , little gifs,                                      to share.



how can we  look the same?                   i think i look different

now. now that i have grown,                          watched you grow.



now. now.



now that i helped  when you were sick.                   now.now.



now i am older and watched you die.                          all of you.



i say goodnight to some and remember                       all of you.



how can i look the same.                                                  now. now.



remember all that has been done.                                           how

can i look the same?



you are still a beauty.



dress swinging.



sbm.