You told me to study the word,
you gave me its meaning,

& I do not wish to fail.

I saw the word, & turned it to action.
I sliced it open, & turned it to poetry.

I do not wish to fail.

I made sure to remember it.
I performed it, & created it.
I lived it.

You may see it as a failure
but once again,
I passed.
I sat, hidden,
the word hovering over my left wrist, screaming,
gout.

friday night,
i gave in to a ubiquitous temptation
& watched as deep scarlet dripped into a
puddle of guilt.

saturday morning,
an analogous feeling greeted my bedside,
& i gave in.
empty house, running faucet, a voice telling me
everything would be okay.
i gave in to the water coffin,
yet couldn't keep myself down.
a passing interaction between me & my end.

I’m from empty lines
& potential poems,
from scattered words
& phrases so far up
I cannot grasp them.

I’m from the ink that bleeds from my pen,
a habit I’m still learning to break.

The stains left have
gotten in the way
& have diluted my legibility-
I can’t read my words anymore.

I’m from, “you’re mumbling”
every time I try to speak,
but words hold no meaning
& mine lack a fighting spirit.
They prefer the comfort of a womb.

In light I found only a melancholic ballad,
breaking bones I never knew I had,
bearing skin I thought I shed
With its words-
tender, true
traces of myself exposed within
its wicked lines
as if to say,
you’ve missed the mark,
with wasted words & a heavy heart.

Now you must bear the burden
of yourself,
once more.

Cigarette butts beside sprouting lilies,
so white against the dark music playing
in my head.
Skinny legs cast a deep shadow,
a lifeless field of grass
under a cloudless sky.

Scratches in dark wood-
a painful reminder
of the lone leaf next to me
having fallen prematurely,
a shallow shadow,
blanketing a shallow life.