when this sickness has become the identity of your anatomy every scratch that doesn't bleed out is a worship song. every time i knock on the door and you are alive to open it i wanna melt down my house keys forever. i wanna tell you that any other taste of metal that promises you home is the blasphemy of your chemistry. i can't sit back and watch my only brother's mind turn into a car stalled across train tracks. i can't look at his throat anymore and only see a rope. i wanna open his skull and see where the ******* are hiding. i wanna pull chemicals from his brain like teeth. there's 3 years and 2 suicide attempts between us and i want to keep death farther from him than anyone ever kept it from me. i want to make his hands look like anything but a reason. i want to make the voices sound like anything but his own. i want to make them sound like anything but permission.

a star of burning conscience falls out of orbit and you find yourself, a moon, on a collision course with this boy of light beams. the world is startled into being when he does not break you but reflects from your surface. it's like he has been in you all along, since the universe was only a child picking the gravel of planets out of its skinned knees. after the crash i picked broken glass out of your chin but your chest wasn't so simple. i couldn't pull a shard of her without your whole heart coming with it. you had saturn's rings for rib bones and i thought loving you would be easier.