The inevitable will wait
I will remain whole as I greet,
as I recount my days away,
as the road to home shortens,
as I sit through dinner.
It wont hit me until I'm alone.
My teeth brushed,
good nights are said,
and covers pulled.
That's when it will strike.
When I realize just how large my bed has grown,
or perhaps I've gotten smaller?
Did I drink a rabbit's potion unknowingly?
Maybe I left a limb with you,
and these phantom pains settle in late.
On the verge of sleep
when we are too tired to fight of the gravity of reality.
An ache resides somewhere in me;
     my arms to hold you
     my legs to tangle in yours
     my lips to kiss you
     my heart I've gifted to you.
My blood lacks its motivation in my veins
and therefore, so do I.
Cocooned in my comforter
but to no avail.
These pillows do not hold the warmth of skin
and do not have arms to hug back.
I have grown used to your lullaby,
heart beats sang me to perfect sleep.
Now only stillness and the sound of a busy world
ignoring this pain that I silently bear.

We live our darkest moments in the medial state
Between rest and motion our inertia kicks in
Our brightest seconds are shared with others
But our demons wait to catch our ankles alone
So we may trip into their clutches for an evening

What if we are just children playing an adult game?
Our tea sets are cracked, my dear,
and our home is contained within figments of walls

Don't let me sleep, my state is critical.
Keep talking, make me think of better days.
If I stop concentrating, it will take hold.
This gnawing at my brain,
I have a corrupted core.
My defenses cannot maintain stability,
I am sure to shatter by morning.
There is no cure,
because it came from within.
There is no market for this,
no dealers or middle men.
It does not come in powder or pills,
nor can it be injected or smoked.
No, this kind of drug is one of the utmost danger.
Doubt and worry are its street names.
Tailored to each person, it plays on fears.
Weaknesses are its ladder rungs,
climbing ever higher in your conscious.

The motion of the speakers in my ears
pulsing with the song.
Tsunami waves flow through my body,
everything is slowed.
Time has lost its meaning.
I cannot concentrate,
first its an itch
next its a sound
following, a couch creak.
This is unreal,
I am raw.
Skinned of any defenses.
If you touch me, you will touch my soul.
you may think it innocent,
but at this moment
I am pealed.
This is my truest form.

My dearest love,
I was taken too young, separated from you by some sadistic hand. I wish I could write to tell you that I am in peace, that I am happily floating above you. I cannot. I was admitted into these ethereal gates, but no fruit of this hand nor any amount of time can calm me down. I reside in a luxury spa of torture.
We may have anything our souls desire, but mine is contradictory and rips the fabric of reason.
You see, I only wish for you. I will never ask to end you life, but I cannot live without you. Although, when you think about it, I'm not living in the first place, not anymore.  Live is not the correct word. Survive. Thrive. Grow. The English language has failed me for this synonym.
I wish for you to live forever. To enjoy the sweet earth and to gain all that is offered to you.
I will wait in agony for you, for that is all I can do. I would rather this feeling than be with you in guilt.
Sincerely, Truly, Deeply,
Your tragic love.

pop pop pop
as my breath reaches the surface
my hair swirls around me
free from the constraints of gravity
my hands too
and feet included
there is no force to hold me down
the world in which I inhabit can float away
like on the tide
but I cannot breath here
my lungs fill with carbon dioxide
soon I must return to the shore