“i don’t care”
the easiest song to sing
the most difficult words to say
-~{ ENCOUNTER }~-
gazes meet
an awkward wave
hands shake
hearts beat
stories are exchanged
well-wishes too
souls are bared
our tree grew drowned in our blood
we bled into each other’s mouths
-~{ GARDEN }~-
snip
why is the scythe in your hands?
snip
”a good gardener trims dead branches”
—but you’re cutting away flowers
snip
“a good florist makes bouquets”
—but you’re cutting away leaves
snip
you won’t stop? not even to talk to me?
snip
it was always going to be
snip
wasn’t it? from the day you turned to
snip
instead of rest. from the day you chose
snip
over art. from the day you chose
snip
over life itself, and
snip
everything.
Phototaxis: the primum mobile of the leaf
a tree’s leaves weave sunlight into their veins
and spin sweet sugar in their blood
leafless, the tree will suffocate
in cooling water, it just drowns
in vital sun, it just shrivels
sugar is false, sugar is sweet, sugar is empty calories
but sugar is hope
even empty calories are calories,
a unit of energy, a glimmer of heat
and heat, what is heat?
it is the movement of particles
the
snip
of stagnancy
you want
snip
so badly, right? this is a kind of
snip
so i bled sugar into your mouth
empty sugar, hopeful sugar
desperate sugar pleading for any leaf to be spared from
snip
“and isn’t my blood water?
the blood i let for you
bleed for you
is the most bitter tincture”
this is a mockery of a selfless love
i selfishly pray that it’s not that my blood isn’t bitter enough,
but that you don’t want its sweetness
you’ll see yourself reflected in my eyes—
a mockery of a loveless self
so you don’t bleed for anyone else anymore?
then why are you lying in a pool of your own blood?
why?
isn’t my blood water?
why isn’t my blood water?
you’re the one who pruned every leaf
you’re the one who rejects sugar
here is the bitterness you want
and the tincture you need
why won’t you drink it?
because you still want sugar—
just enough to help the bitterness go down
you ******* idiot
how are we supposed to make sugar without leaves?
every time you open your mouth, i will shove bitter blood down your throat
again and again and again and again
until it’s too bitter to ignore
and saplings sprout from the forest floor
and you spin sugar
-~{ GARDEN }~-
at last, the scythe is in my hands. by my hands, these branches shall
die
i will only make a garden when i
die
let the false flowers
die
let the saccharine leaves
die
there is no rest under the sweltering sun
it evaporates solace and leaves me to
die
i know i will
die
acids and nectars and sweet smoke cool my throat before i
die
i swallowed rocks to scrape away my misery before i
die
i will run from pain until i
die
i just want to
die
leaves are just a shroud,
a veil masking the true shape of a tree
by pruning every leaf, i can show you the truth—
this tree is beautiful lumber with nine rings of history
i want to make a plaque or a frame
a perfect remembrance
clear away the spindling branches and useless leaves
and leave for me the nine-ringed trunk
i’m dying of thirst
and you spared a trickle of sap?
i’m drowning in an ocean of blood
i don’t care
i’ll bleed the tenth ring myself
-~{ HARVEST }~-
oh, you bare tree, you poor thing!
come here beneath my canopy, where i’ve gathered sunlight for you
i’ve woven it into spun sugar,
and in the heart of this nine-ringed trunk, my greatest treasure, just for you:
apathy
i love you so, so much that i have learned to forget myself completely. when you live, i feel
nothing
when seventy stones fell down your throat, i felt
nothing
when you hunched over the toilet and retched, i felt
nothing
when you murmur misery, i become
nothing
when you die, i’ll feel
nothing
and i will tell myself, there is
nothing
i could have done, would have done. but then you cried, screamed, and bled. and i remembered the taste of blood, your blood in my mouth, or was it my blood in yours? mingled in mouths all the same, drinking deep, choking, drowning, and then i felt everything.
so you see? this is how i can be honest when i say,
“you are everything to me”
you see? apathy is the greatest gift i can give you
you can scream, cry, live, and die within me, and i will be the same
and you can rest knowing you never hurt me, because nothing can’t be hurt
and i can wonder why there is rain on my face as the sun beats down upon me
-~{ OCEAN }~-
so i don’t bleed for anyone else anymore?
then why am i drowning in an ocean of my own blood?
i claw at the surface, tensions breaking, my hand taking yours
splinters make bleeding incisions in my skin yet i cling to this fragment of us—
this driftwood, my salvation
splinters. i’ve cleared every leaf and the truth is painful splinters. what a joke!
the blood rises
the dead wood sinks
why are there only wooden scraps?
where is that nine-ringed tree?
haven’t i bled enough?
when will it be enough?
i can’t see any more…
this ring might be my last
-~{ EPITAPH }~-
waving hands pause in the air
barren soul meets doubting stare
then lungs hack and livers fail
then one beating heart goes stale
honest words bent through rose lens
“sorry, i thought you were someone else”
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 5:00 AM UTC
“i don’t care”
the easiest song to sing
the most difficult words to say
-~{ ENCOUNTER }~-
gazes meet
an awkward wave
hands shake
hearts beat
stories are exchanged
well-wishes too
souls are bared
our tree grew drowned in our blood
we bled into each other’s mouths
-~{ GARDEN }~-
snip
why is the scythe in your hands?
snip
”a good gardener trims dead branches”
—but you’re cutting away flowers
snip
“a good florist makes bouquets”
—but you’re cutting away leaves
snip
you won’t stop? not even to talk to me?
snip
it was always going to be
snip
wasn’t it? from the day you turned to
snip
instead of rest. from the day you chose
snip
over art. from the day you chose
snip
over life itself, and
snip
everything.
Phototaxis: the primum mobile of the leaf
a tree’s leaves weave sunlight into their veins
and spin sweet sugar in their blood
leafless, the tree will suffocate
in cooling water, it just drowns
in vital sun, it just shrivels
sugar is false, sugar is sweet, sugar is empty calories
but sugar is hope
even empty calories are calories,
a unit of energy, a glimmer of heat
and heat, what is heat?
it is the movement of particles
the
snip
of stagnancy
you want
snip
so badly, right? this is a kind of
snip
so i bled sugar into your mouth
empty sugar, hopeful sugar
desperate sugar pleading for any leaf to be spared from
snip
“and isn’t my blood water?
the blood i let for you
bleed for you
is the most bitter tincture”
this is a mockery of a selfless love
i selfishly pray that it’s not that my blood isn’t bitter enough,
but that you don’t want its sweetness
you’ll see yourself reflected in my eyes—
a mockery of a loveless self
so you don’t bleed for anyone else anymore?
then why are you lying in a pool of your own blood?
why?
isn’t my blood water?
why isn’t my blood water?
you’re the one who pruned every leaf
you’re the one who rejects sugar
here is the bitterness you want
and the tincture you need
why won’t you drink it?
because you still want sugar—
just enough to help the bitterness go down
you ******* idiot
how are we supposed to make sugar without leaves?
every time you open your mouth, i will shove bitter blood down your throat
again and again and again and again
until it’s too bitter to ignore
and saplings sprout from the forest floor
and you spin sugar
-~{ GARDEN }~-
at last, the scythe is in my hands. by my hands, these branches shall
die
i will only make a garden when i
die
let the false flowers
die
let the saccharine leaves
die
there is no rest under the sweltering sun
it evaporates solace and leaves me to
die
i know i will
die
acids and nectars and sweet smoke cool my throat before i
die
i swallowed rocks to scrape away my misery before i
die
i will run from pain until i
die
i just want to
die
leaves are just a shroud,
a veil masking the true shape of a tree
by pruning every leaf, i can show you the truth—
this tree is beautiful lumber with nine rings of history
i want to make a plaque or a frame
a perfect remembrance
clear away the spindling branches and useless leaves
and leave for me the nine-ringed trunk
i’m dying of thirst
and you spared a trickle of sap?
i’m drowning in an ocean of blood
i don’t care
i’ll bleed the tenth ring myself
-~{ HARVEST }~-
oh, you bare tree, you poor thing!
come here beneath my canopy, where i’ve gathered sunlight for you
i’ve woven it into spun sugar,
and in the heart of this nine-ringed trunk, my greatest treasure, just for you:
apathy
i love you so, so much that i have learned to forget myself completely. when you live, i feel
nothing
when seventy stones fell down your throat, i felt
nothing
when you hunched over the toilet and retched, i felt
nothing
when you murmur misery, i become
nothing
when you die, i’ll feel
nothing
and i will tell myself, there is
nothing
i could have done, would have done. but then you cried, screamed, and bled. and i remembered the taste of blood, your blood in my mouth, or was it my blood in yours? mingled in mouths all the same, drinking deep, choking, drowning, and then i felt everything.
so you see? this is how i can be honest when i say,
“you are everything to me”
you see? apathy is the greatest gift i can give you
you can scream, cry, live, and die within me, and i will be the same
and you can rest knowing you never hurt me, because nothing can’t be hurt
and i can wonder why there is rain on my face as the sun beats down upon me
-~{ OCEAN }~-
so i don’t bleed for anyone else anymore?
then why am i drowning in an ocean of my own blood?
i claw at the surface, tensions breaking, my hand taking yours
splinters make bleeding incisions in my skin yet i cling to this fragment of us—
this driftwood, my salvation
splinters. i’ve cleared every leaf and the truth is painful splinters. what a joke!
the blood rises
the dead wood sinks
why are there only wooden scraps?
where is that nine-ringed tree?
haven’t i bled enough?
when will it be enough?
i can’t see any more…
this ring might be my last
-~{ EPITAPH }~-
waving hands pause in the air
barren soul meets doubting stare
then lungs hack and livers fail
then one beating heart goes stale
honest words bent through rose lens
“sorry, i thought you were someone else”
EDIT: reformatted due to hellopoetry's formatting changes. no more italics for me, i'm afraid
it’s something i’ve been chipping away at for at least a month now. i don’t know if it’s really “done”, but i want to move on from this. my perspective has changed a little since
it’s the story of a connection and the two souls within it. it contains some references to my other poems. there are 3 “voices” - an omniscient disconnected narrator, and two different people.
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