Spun out of control,
consummated consumption wrought us together,
but now you need space

but there's no air for me to
breathe in space, where I am
left.
The well of your gravity keeps me close,
insides vacuuming out as I stare
helpless
at your blue white corona holding the one thing that would save me,

(drowning in an inch of water,
oxygen so near but impossibly far...)

if only it would pull me
back in again.

The stars comfort you,
but there are none here visible,
as my eyes shed their blood vessels
to the nothing that coldly cradles me.

I'm dying out here,
baby,
and I don't want to get
lost
in
this
space.

If you'd only let me,
I would give you back every moment
of happiness you feel we lost together,
and all the lost potential,
tossed away by the harm
of our addictions.

I would.

Would you give me back
the one and only thing
I would ever say you took from me,
if you could?

It must be nice
to be surrounded by green
to be in a safe place
to seek the therapy you need
to break away
to wrap yourself in yourself until yourself emerges again.

It must be nice
to not be left behind.

You are out of sight,

from within this
eroding sandstone,
too-high-to-climb-walls,
box canyon you have left me in,

and I am out of my mind.

I'm not asking for much...just a
sliver of something to
hold onto.

I only want someone to love me
when we are old,
for the things they loved me for,
when we were young.

I am waking up in tears every morning
our songs echoing through my head
covered in sweat,
shirt soaked through,
hair on end like I've been swimming in the bath of
warm water and
memories
we drew over nearly a decade.

I'm spinning out of control and
I don't know if I can remember how to be a good husband anymore.

But mostly, I just miss you
like the desert misses the rain,
and just like that metaphor,
I am becoming a ******* cliche.

faces smirking at me form unknown places
laughter taunting me from dark corners
the sky is folding in on itself
the sun eating up all the stars

the footsteps that follow me are growing ever closer
I can't seem to get away from my unseen tormentors
as they chase me into insanity

colours are moving all around my body
infecting me with millions of emotions every moment
who am I now?
for I am certainly not the one you all knew

She sits across from you at the group-work table in all her flesh
a coat of giant cold chicken skin
she can't figure how to take off.

A cow chewing cud
would be less offensive than the way she grinds
that gum with mouth, a hole slapping
against itself in fleshy clicks.

She is heavy, whipping cream-
colored thighs each time she slaps a hand down in laughter.

The chest is pouring out in all of it's hypnotic paleness;
the dark colored shirt is giving its all, but failing against the strain.

Your adrenaline courses in nausea
as she moves her legs apart,
veins radiation-blue,
mashed potato inner thighs,
and suddenly
you've peaked behind the curtain
the poison fish you see
makes you *****.

You found the truck
attractive enough to her
to keep her standing up after each time you ran her down
Each time she saw you coming
She smiled in hope
And ran to the street, stood mid-lane, waving until that moment when
Your metal smashed her smile
Your rubber broke her fingers
and you had won.

Knowledge: My meager roadside curio is more to her than the fastest automobile hatred can build

And now, you do not drive this way very often, and nothing much makes me happier

But we both know the saying, "If I can't have her..."

And you managed that:
braces she has to wear now
slipped disks
scars all over her body
and heart...

She is a different person, and in that,
you have won,
as you couldn't have her,
and now neither do I.

But there is something else:
You forgot that my love is nearly unconditional.
Unconditional love does not exist.
My love is honest, pure,
Not the hardly-unconditional love most advertises as unconditional.
Not the kind that is plastic, and
flashing on a sign on the side of your vehicle
The one I read through tears
Each time
Her hand slipped from mine
as she ran to meet you.

I love her,
no matter what damage you have caused
no matter how long it takes to heal
no matter if it never heals
and in that,
you will never win.

Sometimes
I feel spread so thin,
like a man who desperately searches for his home,
and suddenly realizes
he is a vagabond,
and has none...