you look at me like i'm on fire. youve always been petulant
i was supposed to be the reasonable one,(or
at least, alive)
and you laugh and say *"i guess things dont always turn out the way they're supposed to."

1.youre too careful and too soft and your stomach
is growling. (you havent figured out if its
the emptiness you like
or feeling like youre alive, after all)
2. your teeth start to fall out in your hands;
your gums are rotted through.your blood
tastes like sweet wine
honey in in a fly trap
a cavernous echo when you feel brave enough to open
your mouth and beg.
3. there are princesses in your dreams, and theyre dripping blood
onto the carpet
(your mom bought it special for you two years ago
shes going to be furious.)
4. dissociative identity disorder is characterized by the presence of two or more distinct personality states
5. youre on fire youre on fire youre on fire youre on fire youre on fire youre on fire youre on fire youre on fire
6. youre covered in dirt. stop screaming in public
be quiet you ******* slimeball
what a creep.
7. you wake up in the middle of the night. you are missing two of your limbs. this
is normal
you go back to sleep.
8. she is delighted at your progress. you smile, and feathers are stuck between your teeth.
the dead bird in your lap says nothing.
9. you wake up in the middle of the night. you are in a coffin. this
is normal
you go back to sleep.
10. she is delighted at your progress. you smile, and clean up the mess you made.
11. you wake up in the middle of the night. your arm is missing. this
is normal
you go back to sleep.
the dead bird on the floor says nothing.

it's january and we're at the lake.
i wonder how long a person can survive under the ice you say.
you look at me expectantly.
last-night.jpg: bathroom stall/shaky hands/stinging eyes;
last-year.jpg: crowded room/mangled words/tight lips;
untitled.jpg: laughter heard through the wall/you feel sick.
the water runs cold while i peel bandaids from my fingers,
sodden gauze and skin.the wind blows my hair down your throat.
you squint like youre staring at the sun, you say all you want is sleep,
you rub dust from your eyes you say
this was a mistake.
youre soft and spent im
wrapping hair round my fingers like straightjackets,
im pretending im not scared.shaky hands/stinging eyes.
i tried to make this a comedy but blood is still blood
no matter how loud you laugh.
I TRIED TO KISS YOU BUT I JUST BROKE YOUR ******* JAW I CARRY A ******* PLAGUE I ***** AND THE GRASS DIES I AM BURNING IM BURNING I BURN scraping through my skin psychosomatic gore, ego and id
a ****** mess on the floor.im not right for me.
i was never meant to be here, superego screaming my sins in my ear LOVE IN ARMORED BOOTS, LOVE IN SURGICAL MASKS AND SCALPELS, love in shed bandaids
clogging the shower drain.my mother told me i was cursed and now i know she was right.
my heart as the sound of an opening blade. my heart as a child too stupid to know
bravery is a trap.fever dreams and you told me they were visions,
me tied to the stake and you tossing the match, im not dead yet but im SURE ******* TRYING, FIVE FINGER FILLET WITH MY GRANDFATHERS HUNTING KNIFE SCARING OFF THE GHOSTS WHO LAY THEIR HANDS ON TOP OF MINE DONT ******* TOUCH ME WITH YOUR GREEDY PALMS WHO SAID YOU DESERVED MY BODY HEAT WHO SAID YOU DESERVE ME, A COMMUNICABLE DISEASE DONT KISS ME IM SICK IM A PLAGUERAT, LIPS OR BLOOD BLISTERS WAS THERE EVER A ******* DIFFERENCE DONT BITE SO HARD ILL ******* BURST **** THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD THAT SAYS YOU ARE WEAK **** THE THING IN THE MIRROR THAT IS NOT YOU

take it back.i take my words back.i push you down, tear them from your ears like piercings
in a ***** fight.im crying and youre bleeding. see what youve done you say,
see what a mess youve made of me, its not so easy to untell secrets you say.
i think youre smiling but its hard to tell.
to all mammals but us, teeth are a threat.mangled words/tight lips. the doctor says i have three years at best. i wake, sweating in a cold office. the doctor says i have three years at best. i wake, sweating in a cold office. the stiff gown scratches my *******. the  doctor says i have three years at best. i wake, blood on the pillow.my lip hurts.
i try not to touch the ice when i lower myself in the lake.

it is easy to know when you should worry about him:::
bombs are going off in lonely palms
and all you hear is a clock ticking in the kitchen

heartbeat creaks in, out, ladder creaking too--
can you feel it, can you hear the petty voices screaming at you,
can you. can you, can you.
crying out, this is what the water gave back to you:
you never liked her anyway, not the way she got into trouble,
regret doesn’t make someone more dead, anyway,
what’s the rush?
riverbed running dry, what’s the rush?
says, you have nothing to worry about
says, god told me about the paintings, god told me,
says, this is your fault
untucked button-up shirts falling from a fifth floor balcony,
this is what love is supposed to feel like
promising bitten pieces of paper to strangers and other misdemeanors
eating at the cardboard cutout suicide dream
some kind of oasis, or
at least a buried treasure, right?
that’s what we came here for, right?
says, don’t make assumptions,
says, don’t make this harder than it has to be,
says, don’t--
corpse in the river, blonde hair
blue eyes get seven sentences and a memorial
speaking in sentences only churches get to hear
lighting a cigarette and talking about the end of the world
isn’t this what we came here for?
says, *what a way to die