i slipped so comfortably
into your world. god, i
would have let you drown
me if you had needed
my breath for yourself.

eleven months later and i am
still getting my **** kicked
in by thoughts of you.

i used to wish i could plant
you in my backyard- grow
a whole field of you to have
for myself. now i'd like to
plant myself there to see
what i'll grow into instead.

in the ripped  up
r  u  n     o  v  e  r
shards of   who i
had    wanted  to
be  i  found  only
someone   i  d i d
not      recognize.
h o w   do  i    go
back    to feeling
h   u  m   a   n   ?

how  weird    that   i  could
miss  something  as simple
as   your   odd    habit     of
saying "zoom zoom zoom"
any time you're  in motion

There’s broken glass in my foot
clear symmetrical triangles
dangling off my foot
like a dazzling chandelier.
But pain.
like a dragons claw,
like a witches fingernail
cut deep
and the oozing, dripping,
thick scarlet liquid
seeping over the bathroom tiles,
reflects my dazed face.
Where am I?
My pale, white, finger
extends and dips into the
red
and now the lines on my hands are all
red
and my eyes blur with the color
red.
I walk down stairs.
Isn't everything romanticized?
Red flowers,
      red skin,
              red lips,
                            red breath.
But the eyes,
the eyes are red
and I suppose that is
what really impales me.

to the humans with the glassy eyes,
i know they've been hurt before
(your eyes,
thrown against the wall,
like a jar filled with rotten marbles)
cauliflower-clouded mind
red-scented sleep
& i pray to God
those pills dissolve in your
sanitized hands.
don't cry when it's over; cry now
i can see milky white
stars in your eyes
and soft pink
bubble gum-flavored clouds
and lazy green rivers
and violent violet nights
and a deep howl in you
when you think you can't go on.
and you burn yourself
with empty looks
and break yourself
by lying down
and **** yourself
by forgetting that the lightning storm
ever came.
flying doesn't always set people free.
remember that.