In the weeks leading up to your death there was no fire in your lips and no water in your eyes and you seemed happy for a turn so I let it be; when you licked into my mouth and it felt like feather candy, like I’d ticked off all the right choices, no red lines and I thought that we were safe. As you curved under the inside of my birdlike wrists and fed me praise, kisses where you projected cuts I had no heart for sight and but knots to stomach, that you loved me a little bit. I loved you less than a bit, then, but maybe it was always like that. I wake up to your shoes strung on a wire and that is fine but; i see you strung on a wire and things are not fine.

the police radio is
screaming
like your mother-
(never has)
but i didn't
hear you in the
background

and when
i went to
see you
you wore a hat
to cover the
bullet wound
above your neck.

and you didn't move
even when i cried
(for you)
(because of you)

and i cried because
death
is supposed
to be beautiful

it is supposed
to be a
collaboration
of fungus
and blackness
that ends in
a teardrop.

death is not supposed to hurt (me)

it feels like
the first time
that i fell in love
because

when he left me

a part of me was scrambled into the pinpricks of the night
sky
(and i haven't been the same)

when he left me

i couldn't breathe

because he could knock the wind out of me
with his eyes (stareheavy)

and when you left me

i couldn't breathe

because you were my  
breath.

and because now

when i breathe
i think of you

and my throat betrays me,

like your trigger finger betrayed you.

friend, please,

when i sit above the circle of ash,
(that was you)

spin yourself around me until once again -

you may be (yourself) my lungs.

No, doctor that's not the problem
You don't understand
I'm putting guns to my head like I don't own my hands
I'm laughing so loud in a crowd with my friends but as soon as I'm home
I feel slightly deranged
There's darkness inside me, doctor,
It's stopping me from living
turning the whole world grey when it used to be so vivid
making me a person that cannot stand to continue living because everything seems pointless and the clock just keeps on ticking
the light is still not coming to the end of my tunnel
Will there always be this black in my vision
I feel like I'm seeing double because one moment
I can't contain myself I'm radiating light
Then all at once the suns sets and I'm struggling to survive the night
Does bliss still exist in this seemingly endless fight
This weight on my chest is reaching a new height
Or rather low, I feel the blackness grow
I just don't know if you can fix me doctor
am I another lost cause
IV's and finger ******
Wrap me up with gauze
You can try to heal me from the outside but it's the inside that is
off

On a cold night
He drowses a side of road
Heartly praying to God with silence
Next day , with gastric band in stomach
Endless umpteen tears in eyes
Rambles all around
Making melancholy melody
He eats and breaths poverty
And overdose leads to the ***** of death...