Everything just feels so broken.
I brush yesterday's dust off my shoulders,
But for what?
If I let the dust settle
      let the dust gather
I will have a blanket
Made of ashes I couldn't afford.
Would I be warm?
If I stood under an umbrella made out of sunshine
What would happen?
Would the rays destroy me like kryptonite does superman?
I don't think so.
My friends wouldn't let that happen.
They nurture my roots
Until I flower
And they spread my petals across an atlas
So the whole world knows that love does not have to smell
Like pickles.
And I could never thank them enough for making everything a little bit less
Broken.

Is there enough life to give in This world?
I see it
Drowning in the hardships of
Picking up pennies to pay for a meal
And spending forty- five dollars on two days of making nothing fun.

I'm smoking a cigarette that I started earlier, that I thought I was finished with earlier.

My father drowns his sorrow in beer and blames his problems on yesterday.
My mother sings caskets and has a gift reciept for every time she's ever "loved"  me.

My life has consisted a lot of scraping by
And I'm Down to the last few layers of skin
Before the burning concrete creates a river of blood for Moses to walk through

Isn't it so simple?

What is, hasn't always been.
And what was has changed for a reason.

The reason
I still breath
I still laugh
I still love
I still write,
Is because you picked the grapes off the walls , growing around my heart
And before they turned to raisins,
You poured wine into my bloodstream..
Drunk off of your warm touch and dazzling smile,
I swallow the alphabet and hiccup compliments,
Keeping My eyes on yours
So as to not get lost in the treasure map hidden in your laughter.

My stomach flutters.

I grab your hand.

You squeeze mine tighter

My heart flickers.

I love you.

Take it away-
Every emotion and strong-will I possess
throw it out the ******* window, as you jump-
wishing your insides would rot in inverse
as you yell back at me to do something-
but you're already falling to your death
and I can't stop the car because its leading me
to my future and I can't stop time
because I'm not ******* god
and I can't take away the hurt though I wish I ******* could.
I. Can't. Do. Anything. Anymore.
It's funny because these words kiss the page
like an abusive uncle that kissed your mother
against her will but you can't tell anyone
because you're trying to keep what's left of your family together-
It's ink, it's permanent and other people have experienced it to
but not like you, oh **** never like you.
So I take what was mine from the ******* start
and hope I can turn something so tragic
into this thing we like to call art, and poetry
but it seems to me I need a ******* lobotomy
because I don't know what to think or feel or do anymore..
All I know is that I had something once,
held it close to my heart like a pistol
and let everyone witness me playing russian roulette with myself
as the clock strikes game over and the gun is fully loaded
they watch as I pull and pull the trigger until I have nothing left
until blood shed is all over the kitchen floor
and you start to wonder how you're ever going to eat there again
But everyone around you is watching in awe
and saying "let me try".
But little do they know the bloodshed is staining those tiles now
and you're having trouble getting back up....
You left a bloodstain on your new t-shirt
and it kind of represents your blatant disregard
and my foolish naivety thinking things would turn out different.
"Maybe this time, I can help"
but as my face hit the floor and my memory left me
I woke up in a cold sweat, shaky and hazy
and I realized this time was different-
I was shaken up for three days after that
not knowing which house was mine to own
not knowing which words I always chose-
my mind blank on a page for the first time
in weeks, and months and days
you subconsciously shook me
paralyzed with fear, I was crushed by the weight.
So I come to the page that has been my pistol
and put that to my chest once again
but everyone thinks this is just a trend
just something we all do for pretend or therapy-
not me, this is somewhere between mourning and the purgatory.
So take it away, I never had it anyway.

Being a ghost is not as hard as it seems.
The flame of my heartheartbeat quites down to a flicker
Before the door slams shut
And a plume of smoke dances its way to invisibility.

That's the moment I realized I haunted the hallways of my mind.
The floorboards shriek and shrill,
The air is thick and stagnant,
And the eyes on+ the paintings
Follow me like a cancer.

I see a window and look out.
I see myself as a child.
Playing.
Laughing.
Enjoying life.
It blows my mind that there was a time and place
Before the world shook the innocence from me like loose change.
Mother earth took her $1.57
Bought herself a coke
And said "*******, kid"
Before jumping in her firebird and peeling out.

I pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming
But all pain feels the same to me nowadays
So who knows if I'm awake or not.
But that doesn't matter
Because my voice hides in the shadows of my cave.
Hollow
Dark
Damp
And empty
Except for the beast that hides inside
With love in its eyes
Waiting for the light to show.

I sit here.
Lips stained with cigarettes.
I don't know what to do.
My mind has been clouded.
Unhinge my scalp and breath in.
My soul trembles at my fingertips.
Paper cuts under my nails.
I bleed love.
My problems are tangled in my hair.
I can't shave it cause I'm supposed to be an adult.
I pack my fears into a briefcase.
My eyes heat my bedroom.
The fire you started didn't go out after you left.
I extinguish sadness with numbness.
My bed is a cave.
I have been frozen in its glaciers.
To cold to move.
Save me.

I believe in the good things coming.
Although my leaves are changing color,
I know you will gladly adventure through the forest.
Winter will bring me a blanket
And when spring comes I will flower
Until summer kisses me with warmth.

The sky may be darkened
But the universe paints a picture in our sky
With the light shed in day dreams.
The moon cast a shadow over my shoulder.
Darkness doesn't know that I am smiling.

I believe in the good things coming
Because I've never believed in anything
Until I saw the ghost of my happiness
Resurrect from the space between my biggest fears
And my ability to smile

I fell asleep while writing this
But I dreamed for the first time in awhile.
My dream was outlandish,
I didn't remember a lot of it
But I was never afraid.

I believe in the good things coming
My blankets are full of dust
But when I shake them out
I sprinkle fairy tales onto  the earth.
A tree sprouts and grows its limb
Tall and wide, so it can hug the sky
And give thanks to the sun
For never letting him know hunger.

Your plate is full,
But that does not mean you have to eat off of ***** dishes.
Prepare a meal,
Set the table,
Dig in.

My pillow case knows what crying yourself to sleep tastes like
And my shower echoes every life changing thought I've ignored.
Underneath empty dishes,
Abandoned rellos,
Vacated cigarette packs,
Miscellaneous knick knacks
And a game boy color
Is a desk.
And on that desk are millions of scratches
Recording the lonely thoughts of a crowded mind.

Eat the flesh off my fingertips
To erase my finger prints
Cause I don't know who the **** I am.