I'll helm
Twisting my midnight switchblade
To somehow bruise the living space
To find it, will take less than a survey

I'll helm
With lips red and badly broken
Enveloped in doubt and omens
So we can be vastly interwoven

Sitting at home alone with a regret infused past
When I may as well be asleep for the week
Sometimes a day or two can pass
Then i'll know what I should have said

Allowing our lungs to wane
Upon the school's rooftop
Watching these good times disappear
Like tears in the rain

Coughing up tales, of which hundreds exist
Regretting us and misreading my transcript
Displaying a shade of default dismissiveness
False bereavement is what you're equipped with
Your visage remains a rivulet, negating encrypted lips
As you spew nix, levels of sanity collapsed when you loosened it

Possessed
Warring within the wind
Aped by a flush, you unveil a plash
Flaunting us a stygian, hazy gore
Left weaving a susurrus blether
With shards prodding your throat

My chin is ****** in the piles of plastic cups
After nibbling myself out, the tables are bused
Onward unlatching, mussed my steady cause-
she was seducing my balance, I had to adjust
She dented concrete when sussed
She saw my incision and continuously cut
She saw my face when her description didn't fit
To be weak, anemic, and homeless I admit it
Now that my leash is leaking out of the tub
I'll remain spiraling like when in cuffs