if they were to call out your name in the forest,
a red fox would call back and they would clamour
to find you, a wailing so painful and so human.
the creature is unwilling and hungry, anyway.

bite,
pull,
snap of bone,
you make a fine meal.

we feel old searching for you but we have lost you,
we know but there is an enchantment in the forest
and a death wish tattooed on our eyelids.

am i tasty, too?

watery throats and watery eyes,
there had been death here and
it seems we are drowning. versus this,
we seem to be out-manned.

we are a nothing in vast ocean space,
and space and stars, a void mouth open,
hungry and starving and full but
this is the course we are in.

in forces we are soldiers with brittle limbs
and our minds are sore and screaming
for a peace unheard of. sinking in mud and
blood and our veins behind us, streaming.

on loneliness we come up empty just as we are
and it is not a bother but a trait, a person.
acceptance is a step to be learned. we'll show
you something holy and be convicted of arson.

in a better version of myself, i could have
leaned in for the kiss and told you
you were wrong.

in a better version of yourself, you should have
leaned in for the kiss and told me
this was right.

my girl asks me why i hate you so much.
there is a distance here that is a line
stretched thin, so slight that my fingers cut
to the touch.

the blood stains my teeth and it tastes
of metal and it's nauseating but it tastes
of you. i tell my girl i hate you, you
buried deep in my veins.

on rooftops and balconies and cigarette ends and razor blades and powders and the people i hate,
i sing, closer to rest than i could have ever wished for.
sunlight upon subway grate, grate,
i will die in fake happy and gore.

sometimes it's cold sweat and the pulse of my own drum
and the night is not night but it's just as ageless.
outside is brown and beige. smoggy. glum.
numbness outside, unreality. numb it out,
like there isn't a ******* hurricane outside my window.

dear god, is this how you wanted me?
dear god, my knees are sore from the questions i've been asking.
great plans. great disasters and the minuscule molecules passing through.
is this a waste or not? answer me.
dear god, answer me.

sometimes it's hot sweat and slipping palms, slipping fingers.
and the night is dark as **** but it's just as loud.
you don't mean **** to me; i grasp and slip from you.
i feel you everywhere but i will numb you out.
like there isn't a ******* apocalypse outside my window.

dear god, these nights are endless.
and i know this is what i wanted but it turns out, god,
that the last train out isn't to home. my windows are broken.  
home is lost in nightmares and skin and dear god,
i've run out of questions.