you've caught an uncomfortable man,

where nothing you do will oblige,

he'll predominantly be fine,

with a tall, glass of red wine.

and a wife made of air,

with an approval from peers,

let him loose and unwind.

with a mom pushing daisies,

raising hell in my folks, like a crazy,

feeling age in my bones,

spewing words on a screen,

holding on to world,

falling down in a drain,

crawling abominably,

fading somewhere happily.

whatever keeps you here,

healing despair,

i reach and you hear,

when i reach, you won't hear.

but whatever keeps you here.

i can fly while i text,

but the second we meet,

your life is swiped left,

the face of your screen is pressed,

but whatever keeps you here.

give up, in hopes you wont,

making a house out of foam,

filled with razorblades,

but you're only made of bones,

i hope you hold on to your phone,

and whatever keeps you here.

i belong in the covers,

friends won't see me yet,

im unwell adjacent,

some code adjacent,

break me from here.

i belong to each other,

im broken and lost.

swallow scabs and begin again.

don't let them get me,

im forever a place for them.

these walls are slowly pressing me,

i'm no stranger to pressure in me,

i'd write my last words if it meant any

thing, if my format mattered, if words


        were in a                certain


                 place

whowouldsayanything?

dospacesmatter

would it make you think         dif

ferently?

would you leave a dumb comment



of what your thinking of           me

. would you crucify my grammar




            does it change everything

without punctionation


or a rhythm that

B
r
E
A
t
h

e
s..

would it really be so bad?

sunday snow,

incompleted,

i smell previous meals beneath it,

but I'm not complete,

an art that is flourished,

some words that unburden,

but forget the cost.

hold fast to your roof,

for it's shelter to pain,

hold close to your heart,

for the actions it's made.

hold on to yourself,

cause it's all that you'll have.

throw your sorrow to crows,

but it's not all that you have.

i'll have dinner at six,

with a bottle at nine,

but my soul only swells at midnight,

naught could keep it from happening.

my mouth is a fire

as i stumble through four doors

never knowing which one us would