Today I did nothing, except
Pick flowers from trees and
Arrange them in a bowl full
Of water. Oh, and I suppose
Fed a homeless man with two
Packs of sardines and tea.
It's sort of silly, this is the
Happiest I've been in a week,
Or two. Or perhaps even three.

Hey here I am again
Eight years later
Breaking,
Thought I'd stand a little straighter
Falling to the ground again
And it's still a ******* trend
Wishing that someone would help me up.

But of course no one hears
It's more like no one cares
My silent cries of help
You're on your own
So I sit here,
Alone
Broken.

And it suddenly occurred to me,
With a twirl of my purple umbrella
And whirl of raindrops racing to
The ground, that we all look like
Flowers from up high on rainy days.

You see, the sky had told me that
Perception is a silly thing, not unlike
Our planted kin; the dirt our past,
Rooted in memories we seek to sustain;
Drinking Time like water, a Sun tamer.

It's a cloudy, sunny day.
The kind in between light
And dark, gently swaying
In grey. I'm here watching
Smoke dance with the wind,
On time with the tiny band
That plays just beyond my
Gentle understanding.

I put a hole in my lip
For every hollow kiss
And a hole in my nose
For every wilted rose.

I fill my skin with ink,
Leaves less room for scars.
If only I gave a ****
About lungs full of tar.

I cut myself about a week ago
And was genuinely surprised
To see it scar. Makes me want
To take a line off of the flesh.
Or two. Or three. Or four.
How far until I never come back?

I never have the effort
To finish anything but
Boys who take advantage
Of the stupors I put myself in.