I have this creeping ache on the edges of my bones
like the way crystal forms,
Like the way prehistoric bugs that live in caves die every day.
I think I forgot to close my eyes and woke up blind.
I live my days hoping to grow inwards until my bones
start the delicate tearing of my skin and
water fills my lungs.
I have longed for this to happen ever since i was 7 and
I heard drowning was the closest you can get to
They say home is wherever you lay your head at night
That must be true
because my former house has a lock on the door now;
a lock to keep me out.
I never realized this is how it is to be homeless,
the endless wandering of a place to rest at night
the endless cycle of hunger and
I walk out of work with not a place to be in the world
and if I’m being honest it should frighten me.
I am a wanderer.
I have no sense of direction,
no moral pull,
nothing to lose and everything to gain.
I have this endless feeling of discomfort and
an airy breeze where the good in my heart and soul should be.
I am a girl, not a very beautiful or talented one.
I belong to anyone who belongs to everyone.
Home is where I rest my head for a night.
Home is a backseat
Home is a smoke filled room at 2 am
Home is a parking garage
Home is a strangers bedroom
Home is a feeling rather than a location,
but those who have a lock and key and
a mortgage fee will never understand.
I am homeless, but I am free.
We cover illness with flowers
and flowers die
The inside of my mouth tastes like it is decaying
I hope I lose all of my teeth first
Maybe its just the scotch and *****
But there is a burning in my throat
Maybe it is Satan just making his way out
I have sharpened my teeth ready to rip and tear
like soldiers and their swords
I am listening to the sound of the rain on the roof
while you fold your clothes to sad song about madness and memories and it is quiet in the house with the same kind of finality of
a lock clicking of
a door slamming of
a finished book
like a knife slicing through a teen on a Chicago city street at 1 am
just this skin
this blood on asphalt
just blood on the roof of this house like a warning
something wicked resides here do not come near
something that says dangerdangerdangerdanger
Never look back.
Never look here again,
there is something about you that keeps me coming back for more
like you are selling crack ******* on the street corners and
I am an addict panhandling
I know you will leave me when I am hopelessly in love
I know I will not be able to breathe without you.
Without the weight of your body and breath on mine
you will leave me peeled and gutted, spineless.
Every dream crushed like a body thrown from the 40th floor.
You will leave me like tsunamis leave islands,
like hurricanes leave cities,
like tornadoes leave houses
utterly destroyed from the core out,
You will leave like a bird from a nest.
They say the grass isn’t greener on the other side
but it has been raining for 3 months straight and
it looks dew blessed to me
sometimes staring at you through windowpane hurts
like there is something in the way the glass glares
in this seemingly ever beating sun
one day you will leave me,
this I know already.
I am already preparing myself for the inevitable to happen.
Hurts my soul and sets my organs on a slow burning roast
acid washing my heart and
pinpricks in my jugular
I try to see you in the darkness
in the light
in the way your brow crunches when you think
in the scar on your dimple.
I tell myself you do not love me like I love you,
regardless of if that is true.
I miss you like one would miss bruised knees
(From all our time on the floor)
I miss you like I miss the bottom of the cement pool
(Even though that's where my friends are)
I miss you like I miss razors raking my skin
(But my arms still beg for more)
I miss you like I miss the party scene
(Still think of it from time to time, though)
I miss you like flowers miss winters frost
(Cold and biting, never giving in)
I miss you like I miss hands around my neck
(I think I'd still say I love you, yet)
Summer raining on the Eastern seaboard
I liked you better before November, personally
There are metal shards floating in this bathwater
Their own tiny islands of pain
A mirror in shards face up on the floor
Guess that is just another 7 years of bad luck
Pennies are dropping into the bathtub
Copper going plink plink plink
Tiny rivulets running their paths
That's just the sound of my lifeline going down the drain, again
Smells like metal and tastes like pain
Red river gushing from my veins
Locked door trying to staunch the flow of secrets
Head swimming to the tile floor
clink clink clink
Scars these days open so easily
Like the Raven said, Nevermore