The gray is fading into black
Clouds smudging into night
Like tar snuffing out the light

I walk in balmy weather
as I see my breath turn to wisps

The snow has begun

I feel the heft of a flake
brush, then land definitely on my skin
As I wipe it away
pastel black stains my frame

And I walk along the grid of roads
My path made, there is none
Just the cinder
The snow of bodies
Cremate

The smell of chaos lingers
here
petrified in the outlines
of ghosts on the walls
Silhouette

The air is sludge
draped in wool
stuffing my body
in between
the drifting specks
Burnt

I'm so aware it's silent
like the brief moment after eradication
A pulsing sound that
blacks out
Gasping

Shuttering eyes, I look up
Noticing the giants of the city
Steel bone, firebrick skin, glass eyes
Empty as these transparent mirrors reflect my
frozen, sweaty hands
touch the soot suffocating the street
Wondering whose footsteps are these?

What scares me the most is
the fact that I will never see you again
I'm scared that when we're old that
I will be withered by time like
paper left in the sun
I'm scared that we will be frail
with bones like glass that
will fails us
I'm scared that time will have gone by
too quickly as we look back and try to grasp
all that we had lost
I'm scared of when we shut our eyes
for the last time and then that
is it for us
What scares me the most is
the fact that I will never see you again
I'm scared

They are all around us
The vibrations of a radiation
that allows us to touch one another
like ripples across a pond
Those radio waves
are floating, dancing
across every surface
like delicate dancers
But they fly like shrapnel
Colliding with antennas
that beg for the wave
the rush

And I
wait for these invisible wavelengths
like those little antennas
Wishing I could feel the
emitting particles as they
pass through me
so I can feel your message
before the specks cram themselves
into my phone's receiver
like lost souls fleeing from the dark

But I am grateful for these radio waves
for they allow me a chance
to talk to you
everyday until
we no longer need them

why do i build my houses out of leaves
each house for each Name

i stand them up, fingers coaxing them, willing them to stay
knowing full well that even the sunlight weighs too heavy

but i stack one on top of the other, a skyscraper of myself
hoping it'll be different this time as it sways, a sickening motion

a drop of rain causes the rooves to collapse as i struggle to keep so many of them up with my palms, using my spine load-bearing

they are stable, my fingers braced against the walls, my feet digging into the mud, my back arched and twisted, and i tell myself it's worth it

the large storm finally grays the skies and my houses are rustling at the pressure and i rearrange it all to cover them, godless prayers

lightning crackles and burns through the clouds to impact the ground
and i can't stop it

my houses begin to flutter apart like frightened birds as i try to grasp at them with damaged hands but i miss

a flash of bright white, the sun devouring the earth, and a splitting snap of wood and facade

a tree motions towards me and my pile of scattered leaves
but the mud is to my knees and my hands are clambering at fistfuls and my eyes are wide as it gets closer

And I find out nothing you said ever meant anything at all.

There is something
heartbreaking
about watching snow fall
There is something
that twists inside
as the snowflakes glint in the lights,
as millions of them
land heavenly on bitter earth
The softness of the silence,
like every sound is suspended delicately
in time,
should have a deafening scream rip through it all
as if a slow-motion car crash just might
take place at any moment
because
there is something
heartbreaking
about watching snow fall

Time is a dandelion sprouting up between jagged cracks in the sidewalk
It is a child ripping that dandelion from the ground
Time is standing at a truck stop between here and nowhere at midnight
It is the empty dark and the smell of gasoline
Time is fingers playing a black grand piano effortlessly
It is the splintering of the piano string
Time is a fluorescent, sterile doctor's office after a collapse
It is the "I'm so sorry"
Time is the green tiled bathroom with the broken shower curtain
It is the positive and it needs to be the negative
But time is not the ticking of the clock
But it is the sound that softly ricochets off the walls as you lie awake

She looked like death
Skin broken, bare bones showing
With her stringy long black hair
She felt like a cyclone
Pulling debris, flinging emotions out to sea
With her dark circled eyes
She moved like still air
Suffocating life, putting to throats a knife
With her cold, slender fingers
She smelled like chaos
Burnt and acidic tears, rancid midnight fears
With her cool breath
But she sounded like colors
Bright with sharps, dark with resonating harps
With her stagnant laugh

As if a pearl and diamond necklace was pulled from a neck
and spattered and scattered and thrown into black pitch
Filling a void so dark that it is in fact pitch black
The stars litter the sky with their ghostly light
For their light is a ghost of their forgotten life
They shined for no other
For no other was near
They shined for themselves to make the dark less dark than it appeared
They had danced in a grand waltz for millions of years
but they danced alone, in a cosmic working of gears
And when they die their essence is released
Their make up, their matter
Spewing their energy upon waves and waves
And then those vaporous waves become solids
creating life of its own, something rife for all time
We are a collection a energy
Merely essence made of light
We come from the stars, from the infinite night
And remember how stars could never touch, were utterly alone
Now in their reincarnated state they can hug, kiss
Be statically sewn

Your fingers

are inside

         my

                 wet

                          warm

throat

pulling out

                        sighs

of desperation

and cries

that thunder down like rain

Inhaling cigarette smoke is like inhaling the sun entirely
It is like solar flares are shooting down your throat into to your heavy chest
But it is worth the pain that it gives when you quickly exhale the curling smoke into the streetlamp lit night as your fingers tremble and you breathe in crystal clear air
It is a sense of comfort
It is like love
Because love can burn your being and consume your flesh and your eyes
But love can calm your soul and revive your sore lungs
from that time you sobbed because of when he...
When she...
When they...
When life...
Love is like cigarette smoke
It can float and wisp around you and bring you peace
but it can suffocate you until you can no longer breathe.

What do you do
sunflower
when your petals
wilt

When the heat of the
day
comes down in
sheets
and the humidity
withers your
spine

When will you
turn
your face away
from the
sun

What should I say?

                    Tell me about love

Love is sticky
like tack
in your mouth
clinging to the back of your tongue
your teeth
making them rot

                    Tell me you won't fall in love with someone else

I don't want to
feel it
hang from my rib cage like string,
tying me up inside
only to turn to razor wire when
when I'm done

                  Tell me what love is

It's a choking hazard
a worm crawling in your heart
making a home
and when it leaves
there's nothing left
Love is a city
full of lights and exhaust,
blinding and suffocating
It's a summer turned winter
no clothes, bareboned

                    Tell me, do you love me still?
yes.

Wish it would stop raining
Stop humming
Stop thrumming
The crystals of the clouds
collide like kaleidoscope colors
as they melt into each other
on the rugged roof of a
dark home
Wish it would stop raining
Stop silence
Stop distance
The house is deafening empty
emitting the hollowing
like carving out a heart
Wish it would stop raining
Stop thinking
Stop blanking
The relay station is skipping
and skidding cycles like
the record player isn't live
Stop raining

Body is sinking to, through the linoleum floor
Hands are raking through the rough hair
Raking down the face
Raking down
Down
Breath is clawing its way up from the burning lungs
Heart is beating to keep up with the beat of a mind's recession
And tears are heaving themselves to their deaths
And sobs are leaking out of the mouth, trying to escape through the cracks in the walls
And time ticks like a car crash happening in slow motion
And I'm losing my ******* mind, constant screaming and ripping
And I'm falling through
And the bed, and the routine, and me are suffocating
And only the man in the moon will be here to comfort me
but even sometimes he goes away too

They're coming
The onyx hands out of the suffocating dark
They want to wrap their bony, jagged fingers around my mind
They want to pull forth
every floating word, every idle
malevolent
thought
about the impending future
I pull back
I pull away from them
I hide and forget

They're here
The onyx hands lurch out and pluck every stagnated
putrid
thought
about the cracked future
and compound them into the front of my mind
I'm struggling as the thoughts cut into me and
snake around me and
cover my body and
crush my throat and
fill my nose and

They're gone
The onyx hands have receded to the hole they live in
I am bruised blue and purple
I am bleeding
everywhere
My lungs are raw and rubbing together like sandpaper
My broken eyes spill over
My mind sees nothing
I am not breathing
I am not moving

I am

                             Fine

I feel the lull of the sun, day by day, and wonder if I have to

When the moon, hanging on a string, shifts the tides

and pulls me in.

Do I have to

When the screams of glittering stars fall around me

and break in my palms, slicing my hands,

and the sun and the moon beg for my face to turn unwavering

Do I have to

That sound
that tinge of an uplifting note
the fluctuating frequency of a Hello
Unkempt time with every beat
Spindles outward like a sheet
of fog, covering and filling your head
Wavelengths of pitch can be a lovely song
or stabbing knives in burnt flesh before long
Words laced with nightshade **** the soul
Words filled with nectar can make you whole
Each inflection of the same word means something else
Each inflection of different words mean the same thing.

I could watch the trees
every waking hour
But in the evening
when the smell of lilacs drift around me
When the spring air kisses
one if the many green fingers of an oak
And the light,  filtered and plush, lingers
Begging to stay
Just a few more moments
is my favorite
I am moved
by these Last Moments
because soon the light will be gone
and the dark will fill every curve and every edge
because it will never be the same way
again

Sitting in a house made up of debt
causes me to recall times like bullets colliding
All those times I ignored the nagging feeling
of another episode ending, a memory forming
And then you were here, right here
next to me where I could physically touch you
But in that moment it was like watching something die right in front of me
because I would never be able to get it back
Because that moment is now a memory
And I can't touch a memory

The snowflakes
they taught me
that something so
blindingly soft
can set delicate skin alight
Causing scorched red fingertips
I set my hands on fire as I bury them
A white inferno
Because memories
these memories
are screaming at me
A cauldron of tender moments and anguished faces and plans that have yet to be fulfilled, and never will be, and brusing and dying dreams and brilliant words laced with tired tones
And I wish I could burn them, the memories, like photographs
In a blaze, they'd all disappear
nothing but smoke, a warm whisper, of something forgotten
But the snowflakes
they taught me
the pain is only present
when I stick my hands in too deep

i didn't think i'd write about you like this
ending up here in a space that wasn't meant for you

in the beginning

i didn't think you'd end up in here as a past tense
as a memory
chalked up as a tragedy, a pile of words

as a goodbye

this isn't how i imagined
us

Sliding down drywall
my body is heaving
my hands are sweating
my vision is leaving
The creaking of aching widows
slam shut around, around, around
until all have fallen down
                                              down
                                                         down
I dig my fingernails in between the floorboards
uprooting them as I concave
and as my throat become desert shores
I inhale rust and sand
as my nails rip away from my hand
My eyes shutter up to the ceiling
where the blood begins to seep
in between the hairline fractures
caused by incoherent weeping
I let go of the floor
and out stretch my macabre hand
as the rubies fall from wooden sky
and into the canyons that my body withstands
I let the red iron slip off my fingertips
and onto the saw dust floor
where it lands softly
unlike I had done before
And my salt water fell to meet it
as it slid off my chin
plummeting towards the crimson
where my nails are pounded into the timber
now soaked with tears and blood so I remember
Every time I look at myself
I see my own personal hell
as my face glitches in contortion
because all I see is distortion.