What if,
one day,
you just can't
anymore.

A flicker.
Is it?
No,
a spark.

A seed of wrong.
Then red blooms
behind my eyes,
a feeling feral, clawing up.

It builds,
a storm front gathering,
pressure in my chest,
a tightening vise.

Words become weapons,
each syllable
sharpened,
aimed.

Lightning.
Pure,
white,
hot.

Striking,
searing,
leaving only scorched earth
behind.

A force unleashed,
uncontrollable,
and then...
the quiet hum of aftermath.

Too late.

Would you notice,
if the sky turned black?
Would you notice,
If all the trees cracked?

Would you notice,
If the rivers ran dry?
Would you notice,
If the lakes began to cry?

Would you notice,
if the sun was gone?
Would you notice,
if the days ran too long?

Would you notice,
if I left this place?
Would you notice,
if you stopped seeing my face?

When I look at you,
I see beauty,
and grace.

What do you see when you look at me?

Sometimes I feel,
like I could walk off the edge of the world
and no one would notice.

This is a story about two boys
The taller one has a gun tucked into his waistband
And thinks the bullets are meant for him
The older one has a record player in his head
He sings along to the same five songs
They know each other
Down to the color of blood
And the sound of bones breaking
But they are strangers
The one with the gun keeps forgetting the words
And the boy with the music Won't let him shoot

the feeling of powerlessness
that turns good men
cruel

-you know the oldest lie in history? is that power can be innocent

i wont glorify or romanticize heartbreak
for me it was a kind of death
and i was forced to keep on living

I'm sorry about the blood in your mouth
i wish it was mine

if you want to learn
what someone fears losing,
watch what they photograph.
- that explains why he never took pictures of me