I'm tired
Tired of breathing the same polluted air
Tired of seeing the same cut down forest
Tired of being cooped up in the same room everyday
Tired of, not life in general
But the one i am living right now
Tired of the same town the same city the same people

I need fresh air, not oxygen
I need books to love not books to read
I need dreams, not expectations
I need to be away
Even for just a little while

The thought
Of missing something more real outside there
Is a torture
I could see so many places
I could live so many lives

But instead
I'm living my life in circles
Obliged to be where i am
To do what i am supposed to
One step out of the circle and anything is possible
I could be free

But i guess that wouldn't happen
For I'm too much of a coward
A poor excuse

only dead boys hold insects like they're something
special
only a dead boy would let a mantis in his heart and
preying was always a better descriptor
because hymns burned in my throat and
i scratched a cross into my palm but i was never lucky enough to scar
but
oh, dead boy
bug lover
enduring a thousand lashes to save the soul of a beetle  -
i'll help you peel off all your scabs to make sure they scar
thick tissue skin memory sometimes you think scars are the closest you'll get
to a wedding ring
you're a suicide king i think a kingdom of hearts was never the safest place for you i
don't think you understand the way your subjects' hearts are strung because
entomology entomos everything you love is cut to bits
and on the fourteenth of february you told me
the only purpose of a flower
was to hold
a spider
inside
and i guess that was why you painted all your walls with roses i
hope your garden  smells as sweet
covered in your misfortunes
only a dead boy would let
a praying mantis so close
to his neck
oh, you freak. disgusting.
i ate the last one that let me this close.
you told me {if i die
leave my body
in the forest
by
an anthill}
maybe you don't realize we were doomed from the start or maybe you're just naïve but
honey you're a dead boy and
corpses don't fall in love.
[you're so genuine it hurts and i think
i could teach you how to be a fake -
nobody likes an honest man
i could teach you how to hate the world but you said

{the only one
i hate here
is me}]

freakish child.
all you see in every rorschach is mantes and
decapitations and
wedding rings you are an aberration,
suicide king entomologist your throne room
was full of termites.
with hallowed cheeks and hollowed churches,
i will assure that you scar
dead boy, if you die
i will put maggots
in your chest

Her abandonment was absolute,
eyes vacant and glassy,
windows to an echoing room of emptiness.
Her forehead sagged like an unrepaired ceiling with frowns and wrinkles;
she had fingers the colour of old whitewash.
Her hair sighed like old wood in a breeze,
the scars on her arms like rusted nails on ply.
Her heart creaked and ached with old timber;
an old soul, filled with sawdust and ash.

Soon enough
she would rot and collapse
to the earth,
weighed down by disrepair and neglect;
she would never find the strength
to get up
and be filled again
with children’s laughter.

Never to be called home again,
just the broken remains of a tomb,
irreparably
and completely
forgotten.

Someone once told me
to mend a broken person
breaks the mender them self

I tried to rearrange their broken heart
But as I reassembled it
The shards of glass sunk into my skin
As if it was heavily pored.

My emotions fell down like hail
on a harsh winter's day. However
I felt the rain wash over me
Sending chills through my heart
Soaking me for all eternity

No one gave me a towel
To dab away the imbibed feelings
of everything, from love to hate
to lust and lies

Someone once told me
To mend a broken person
Breaks the mender them self