I like listening to the hum of other people conversing in the other room
I don't know if they realize they sound so beautiful from far away
Sometimes it's better that way

it's during that awful time of semi-consciousness
while my mind is still riding that razor line
between this world and the one in my mind
where my soul lays bare to unflinching introspection
that my stomach clenches into a knot tied tight
my heart races then stops while lungs struggle for air
and every mistake i continue to make drags
their wretched ******* fingernails across my eyes
i recoil from my self sick of the battered skin i'm in
fighting the urge to choke on false hope and failing
while sickly sweet desperate promises for change
spill from my mouth like ***** past my cracked lips
and i know i'm still alive because i'm not dead yet

{Voided}

i love you this morning
it's a come home safe morning
fog on the road
& no seatbelt kind of morning
the sun is over easy
& nothing's on fire
there's punctuation
where i don't want it
and extra love
in the glovebox of my car
been thinking about being honest
how these poems are all me
but they tell the story
how someone else
might believe it happened
within reasonable doubt
no copy & pasted love letters
no 'who ever says hello first gets my attention for the day'
try a little tenderness
in my ears and today
there are instruments
in the back of my head
i think you love me
because i'm sunburned
felt it in a 'come hell or high water' kinda way, that 'touched from far away' kinda way that 'if i touch this piano one more time one of us is going to break' kinda way
and i drove over 17 bridges yesterday and today i'll do it again
and i think nobody gets
what that means except maybe you
i just tell them i love the scenery
that somebody must've made
these trees blush just for me
you know how i love
to change the subject
i bet they'd love the view
i bet you would too
and all these metaphors
for other things are beside the point
this is a metaphor
for why i don't wear my seatbelt
a metaphor for why whiskey
knows me better than you
could ever try to
all the buildings seemed to sag yesterday and all the stars
are doing that cliche thing
where they talk
quiet jet noise
& some lumbering giant
made everything shake
not those hand metaphors
not another one of those
& keep the sea to yourself
i think it was a train
it's sound hugged the embankment
for a moment
and then trailed off into nowhere
and that's kind of like me
how there's a town called 'rescue'
close to my home &
it's no coincidence
that i've never been there

I cut my hair because I was done being sad.
All that weight on my head and shoulders
All that hassle of preserving an illusion
All those memories of her.
I cut it off.

But here I am,
Sad today.

So now what do I cut.

My scars are fading, But I don't think hers ever will.

I'm already in too deep
Crawl back into my hole
I've traced these walls so many times
I don't know
This is hell
This is home