my fingers smell like
your absence
and there's no other way to
occupy my time
but this feeling of loneliness

skinny violence, never to fade
changing sequence
shifting shadows, piercing eyelids
at the water's embrace
        
no one is safe
come out, come out,
come out and play
just a microsecond, wait
fill me up with fuel hate

she spews out poetry
kind of how
        she's ripping appart her entrails
for others to chew on,
ungraceful toxic mess

hueles a madera;
a madera olvidada,
a madera podrida,
a madera vencida.

black ink spots
spread
across her face.
as she pries them off
they become blurry
and they take over
the very face
she was
trying to save.

i feel like i just ran a marathon on my own. like all my friends would cheer but they'd be too far away to throw me a water bottle, even though their cheers and my own prejudices & expectations rang in my ears and head like nothing i can even attempt to remember. my first stop was confusing... i really thought i had grown but i guess i'll have to wait to say the words until the door handle falls and reveals the measurements my ego left behind. and by the way, by the time you revved up your motorcycle i had decided i had little time to spare. a conviction i completely forgot the SECOND i realised all i really need is new things, shiny and shinier, brilliant ******* that can and will take me away from this stupid coca-cola brown monotony that i so wholeheartedly despise.
worst part is, i knew. even though i've told myself countless times that i wouldn't, that i shan't, make the same ******* mistakes i seem to find new languages to scream out the same stupid words.
every. single. time.
those who know me (and i mean REALLY know me, not like you claim to do with your ******* false sentiments and pity, mind you) know that i fear failure and hate disappointment above every single feeling any cells in my body can produce, above any chemical, above any drink. you've managed to upgrade the disappointment i felt in myself until i can't even see what i used to when i looked in a puddle.
"thank you".
you've been a total waste of my time.

my sister is sick with the flu
and i feel sick without you
whoever "you" may be

screaming drills into your brain
leaving you frozen, it penetrates you.
but nothing you can actually do
will make you forget how you felt, yesterday night, paralyzed in the rain

the stars shone
twice in her eyes
and once in my nostrils

"kiss me hard before you go"
and leave your scent
dripping from my veins
as i stare at the unnamed door
you thought would fit your needs
talking about moral integrity
i'm reminded of the very entrance
you used as an exit
to leave me behind, shaking

i was thinking about first times
when i came across you
riddle me this:
has this blood been maiden-approved?
or is it decaying 'cause you pricked your thumb blue?

hubris tendrils are the only ones that'll hold me close
your appearance is extraordinarily redundant (if i'm quite honest in my prose)
nothing new here to witness, just the monthly overrated sickness
killing softly with a silver knife in the darkness's burning plate
clichés, i hate, but i won't let me sway-
i need to find my center quick! & i need to find my place
so i can be with someone else that won't grow weird and gray
so we can laugh about the many i have trampled on the way