and

I already feel

so lost

without you.

I understand the whole time thing I do think it’s for the best but I feel physically ill

ironic

considering contagion normally doesn’t last 1000 miles or maybe its just been dormant since we’ve touched

our intentions were,

no longer.

hesitant,

it’s not selfish,

caressing one another’s insecurities

with bare hands-

the lacerations in our skin were still too raw for our adrenaline to forget

and now that we’re crashing baby i’m sorry

it’s so hard,

dilated eyes,

bloodshot,

electric lights

dying out

but there is still a flame

I see it

we can burn these trees to the ground and be reborn from the ashes

too

we can apologize until even the sky sees that we’re blue

****

just listen to my elementary thoughts

and humor my wet-glue apology

please

understand

I still don’t quite know

how to cleanup  my messes

but

you never complained about the glitter I left on your pillow.





I remember

the night

you held me,

as I was dreaming

of reality

and living

unrealistically

you

made yourself too tangible

when you touched my arm

even after the embers burned out and after it left its mark

you remained.

I got accepted into college.

And

I don’t know what to do with my life.

I don’t know

what to do

without you.

My room

                                              is a work of art

on the unvacuumed           canvas

lies heaps

of U.C.S's

(unidentified clusters of                ****)

heaps                                   ­           that are only destroyed

during nights             ...                                 ...                                     .. .    .  .

that are fueled with       anxiety

or

just pu re
                    r
                   
                                      estles snes s  .

These imperfect     shapes

scattered

in comforting patterns

my          compiled life

in pieces   .

But I'm st ill restless.

The artist

is

never truly satisfied with

her

work

the mes s of          my                     life

tossed comfor tably to the ground

until i am provoked by                       ...                              ...               .. .

...

Each Article

I nd i v i dually held

Set    in   place

Stumb

                                               ling upon

Lost object  s       ... .             .

forgotten   fabrics that

held you unquestionably.

a nostaliga

art

revealing things

you were probably already looking for .

Hospitals are filled with dark crevices.
The white washed hallways are flooded with fluorescent lights that do not reach behind closed doors.
Whispers reverberate off of the walls, reaching to the darkness, making it grow.
It pools on the bleached floor, mixing with the ammonia that rises up to my nostrils and suffocates me.
The fluorescent lights in the hallway do not reach the light at the end of the tunnel.
The space between the door and the exit is a vast abyss, and no one knows where they're stepping or when they have to cross the threshold.
We don't have any hands to hold, and the whispers kiss our ears with the softest breeze.
The fluorescent lights do not reach the dark crevices within me.

The impact was sudden. I flew back and hit the water with a loud crash. I quickly knew that I was sinking. The water was frigid, compared to the heat I was standing in just moments before.  The pressure in my ears was getting painful, but it was like nothing that was happening to my chest. My body soon found the floor of the pool, and for a moment there was an eerie silence…but the weight kept working. I felt the cuts in my skin stinging because of the acid-like chlorine. Then it got worse. The sound of my cracking sternum traveled through my body and the water, amplifying the effect. I was running out of oxygen. I’m pretty sure my adrenaline kicked in by now, because I can’t remember feeling a thing right then. The water lightened the weight, so with my remaining strength I shoved it off of my torso and to the side. My vision blurred, I see the rays of light reflecting off of the surface, an illusion of it being more brilliant that it actually is. I move me arms, and the agony finally shoots through my being. I bend at the knees and the pain is less intense, though it still demands to be felt. I place my feet beneath me and try to push myself up.  I know I won’t last much longer. I feel broken from the inside out, I’m tired. I look up once more towards the light. I slightly bend and push from my left foot, ready to kick with my right. I involuntarily gasp, my body’s plea for surrender. I shut my water filled mouth, my lungs burning.

There’s a 7-11 by my dads house.
At that 7-11 resides
the worlds last pay phone.
On the pay phone is a sign that reads:
Need help? Call God at 777.
Each time,
just for good measure,
I pick up the receiver
and dial the three holy numbers.
Each time,
I hear
“The caller you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.”

I have a hunger for you,
for a way that I have never had you,
to sit in your head, to plant my feet in your veins,
and feel the essence of you wash over my skin and being.
My lips trailed your skin,
but I imagine  nothing tastes as forbidden
as the depth that you covet unseen.
Your eyes are compelling me into oblivion,
lost within searching for something
I didn't even know I was looking for.

Talking about different identities within.
Mine are like the tides.
One minute, I’m fine. Happy and laughing, smiling and talking,
and then slowly the tide recedes.
I sink as the ocean does,
revealing the less than radiant depths,
without the water to illuminate and reflect the small imperfections
and magnifying them as something glorious
and as a wonderful mystery of nature.
No. There are holes that dark creatures hide in,
and when they’re stepped on,
their retaliation is a spout just high enough
to drench your favorite white shirt in the murky bile
that is generally not spoken of.
I sink as the ocean does, alone.
Sometimes what is harbored beneath the waves ends up beached and stranded.
Alone. Left drying over in the sweltering sun,
helpless. I’m so sorry,
I asked you not to venture too far.
I warned you of the harsh reality
of my inability to remain stable enough
for you to stay happy for too long.
I rise as the ocean does.
An unexpected lift in hopes,
the broken shells beneath the tide are concealed.
The glimmering waters are blinding,
almost so much to the point where
you can’t see.