there’s a little bit of
everybody
in everybody
your colors reach my colors
reach their colors
how dare we forget
that we’re human?
how dare we forget
our time underground
before our growth?
how dare we forget
that we were just seeds
and by the water of strangers we bloomed?
and now that we are grown
and have our own supply
how dare we forget
to share?

all the doors swing so easily
i come out sadder
than i went in
it isn’t what’s in the frame
it’s what’s beyond it
that truly paints a picture
i can’t blame you for making it worse
when that’s all anyone ever did
for you

i’m always a little worried
about a car crash
every night feels like the movies
like the perfect time
to crumple up and cross
and while the road is so dark
and your fingers dance away from the wheel
i wonder if my worries
will finally be put to rest

but that moment you took hold of me
in the darkened room
cinema lights reaching ever corner
of my needy
lonely heart
it wasn’t so much a breathlessness
as it was you breathing into me
the air that i had been missing
i understand now.
there will always be part of me
that belongs to you.

I love tea but I've never actually drank it before;
Every time I make myself a cup I forget about it,
It goes cold before it's poured down the sink.
I wish it was like that with bad memories.
When I was younger and infinitely less distressed, my mum would warm me some milk to
Calm me down, now
Every night before I go to sleep I drink a piping hot mug of 'memory milk,'
Sprinkled with cinnamon
To enrage the fire,
But softened with a teaspoon of sugar to
Sweeten the burn.
I want to **** myself but I don't want to die-
I don't want to live the way I have to-
I guess milk could be replaced with bleach but then again
My soul is pale enough as it is.
I never know what to do,
Where to put myself,
Or even what to drink.

i do not know what is more tragic
waiting for you
in this pouring rain
or knowing that
you will never
come

fingers flirt with the flames
of a feeling I don’t understand.
lighter fluid coats my hand and
I don’t bother to wash it off.
tears begin when my parents yell
because twenty years of
abuse, alcohol, and neglected anxiety
takes its toll on the adult mind.
‘i’m over it,’ i say as i drink
my second beer of the day
at nine in the morning.
i light a cigarette and
catch on fire and hope
my parents forgive me enough
to realize not everything is my fault.