i'm sorry that i write words
into fickle lines
like my life depends on it
and that i sink ships
harbored in your heart
faster than the lose lips that whispered, "i love you"
i'm sorry that the constellations engraved in my palms
will perpetually lead back to you
and that your calloused fingertips will always feel like home
i'm sorry that feelings are fleeting
and that mine are cemented,
that all i've ever wanted
was benevolence
and that you are immortally running in the rivers of my consciousness.
but mostly,
i'm sorry that i will invariably confess through
spilled ink and teardrops
what i stand for
rather than tell you
what the voices  echo constantly in my hollow skull.

when i die
bury me with butterflies,
cut my veins open
and fill them with your sedated sighs.
when i die
play bloodbuzz ohio,
and twirl and laugh.
kiss me on the cold cheek,
tell me how much you'll miss me
and my drowsy eyes
my cautious conscience
my satirical stares,
and long nights that didn't seem so long
when i die,
bury me with butterflies,
2 weeks of life is all they need;
and so do i.

I spent forever searching
for a girl whose lips tasted like Cherry Coke with wisdom
seeping out of her throat as she spoke

mercy-
left town
on a late night train-
running again
with no place left to go

and all tracks look the same
when the lights are burning low

mercy-
don't come knocking
'round my door
-anymore

mercy-
I need mercy-
I need some more

and all tracks look the same
when the lights are burning low

mercy-
where she's gone
i don't know

-mercy.

r ~ 9/14/14

Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry:
Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!
But oh, who ever felt as I?

No longer could I doubt him true;
All other men may use deceit:
He always said my eyes were blue,
And often swore my lips were sweet.