I don't think about it any more
I take out the trash
noting
Sticks caught in the crotch of a tree
The wind does what the wind does
breaks weaker branches down
does not care where
it leaves
them
on its invisible way

Days do what the days do
they don't count themselves
worthy as they go
to release
the afternoon
to evening—
an artless
emptying
to a low spot
where tears tend to pool
if I'd let them down

“You know,
in that low spot
out there...?”
Where it's hard to see
Where its hard to care?

They take heart
out
divide it by energy
for sadness—
I haven't got

Watched the clock go round
wipe out my little plans
with relentless hands

...and I never got dressed today

whispers are just words in black and white,
so let your voice fill my ear with sepia-tone
paint my skin monochrome
let your words tint my blood with white-out
and my skin with ink.

touch my hair
and rub the colors of your heart
onto my split ends
like hair dye from a discount store,
stain my face
press your dyed fingertips
into the hollows of my cheeks,
because they lack color.

let your gaze
cast honeyed light on my shoulders
let it warm my freezing fingers
let it thaw my frostbitten lungs,
make my elbows lighten
with the heat of your palms
imprint the spaces between my ribs
with the marks of your fingers
like puzzle pieces, meant to fit together.

i woke up again.
this morning filling my glass with anxiety.
my limps swung, hung over me, and held me down.
i felt my heart turn into an anchor,
why am i feeling so much pain when i was okay yesterday?
i was laughing yesterday,
i was smiling yesterday.
those silent moments with both myself and my friends,
wiped my smile away as my sadness sat with me and sunk into me,
caught up with me.
"you're not supposed to be happy."
i don't want to be like this forever.
i'm banging my fists on the walls of my mind and on my walls,
in frustration.
i woke up again,
wishing i didn't.