the feeling passes
through inhaling gases

you're a chalked up lamb.

you talked me up
about him
          ham
          have
          some
           hands.
a             handsome
                              man
said something about the weather
and agreed with a nod of the head.
sure this lady was talking, but he knew she was dead.

ghosts sound appealing,
moving through the sheets,
they're under them and you're under you
falling through from raising others.

religion smashing fingers
you are
the single piece of toast
I ate for breakfast this morning.

emotional substance spread over me
and silence poured me another drink.
down we go, and I go down.

confusion constellation contemplation
trying to connect the dots between seeing you
and not wanting to see you, but not wanting to be
alone.

are you having fun yet?

you've peaked
and my interest is fleeting
pop
the helium balloon explodes
and my voice loses volume.
impact upon giving time
wasting time thinking
that this place is too quiet
for my thoughts to process
and translate them the way
I want to.
bathing and waiting
building my own gates
to make sure I'll remember how I got in
and how to get back out.

standing on the edge of a bridge
meet me before I jump.

I've got to get out of this apartment.
the carpet is too clean, I have to take off my shoes.

company? nope.

I'll drowned out the music
with fingers in my ears
head under water, trying not to float.

grass stains
I need to run away.

contact? nope.

trip me up,
cut me loose,
keep me cute.

mmmm.

all I need to say.

mmmm.

friends sing so sweetly
and I fall in love with the serenade.
it's m
i     s  
l    e   a  
ding
if you act before you think
and then spend all your time thinking about which move to make next.

I think progress starts at two points:
the beginning and the ending.
everything and nothing.

One thing to make me feel something
and another to destroy me.

I've given up on trying to be friendly
and gone straight for that same bitter harsh of honesty
that
got
me
in so much trouble before
that I forgot existed
because I let myself slip
rather than pushing out
what I knew wasn't good for me.

wanting to please everyone.
loving the pleasure in pain,
got lost in it, got distracted,
became detached in the same direction more than once
and became less than I should
                  more than I should.

it's a swallowing of seeds without chewing.
with all this stimulation brewing
around the stitching of my pocket,
crooked lines, a few things slipped out.

marbles in the kitchen, in the bathroom,
on the floor. you carried me up
and down stairs.
cried
when
I
loved
you
and
screamed
when
I
stopped.

But you didn't stop ramming
jamming
jerking
thinking
sneezing
wheezing
leaving
thoughts
behind.

Hel­ping remove your mind
I tried to look inside.
Your ego ****** you into
a black hole of questioning.
Left me answering
that there was nothing left of me.
Found myself in the absence
of bored and forgetful silence.

The ending
is the beginning
for me.

right now
it's all finally happening
right now
the moment's been festering

I've finally finished and I'm free.

I'm an unthinkable mess
stuck in a wreck

explaining myself until my throat goes numb.

I was a dull flame flickering out
and you were a ball of rage, faster
burning, striking with liking me
too much too close to the skin
and you were underneath in those
parts I didn't dare share, and once I did
over and over and
again
i wanted to stop after so long of the ripping
and putting back together
and ripping
and repairing
and ripping.
taking the time to look at the picture,
I found it was so torn that there was nothing left.

so to create a new one
I destroyed the old.
your death grip is no hold.

"Don't think about me."

my ears are burning.

reaching out
pulling back
the withdrawal is another opening
a hole
a pocket
what's the difference?

a million openings
falling through
your time
frame
and
to my
pleasure
or luck
of goodness
I find you beside me.

brilliance has judgment
unsure of what's too far.
must slow
to a crawl
push your nose
to the ground
close your eyes
drop your limbs
eat cement.

it's early
my voice is harsh
the words come
easier than you do
but there is much
more venom
than that of a
snake.

you're a pearl in
my food
seeping through
my skin
you've brightened my day
all crimson in ways more than natural
and I try not to pay attention to the thoughts that
come without warning, without real meaning,
just striking with sharp teeth
the people that I love, it's always harder when you don't realize you're doing it.
instinct.
thrashing.
inside.
my.
veins.

I'll dance faster
shed some weight
remove myself
return myself
recycle myself
and weigh my actions
through heavy stones
and heavy lids
impossible to lift.

like butterfly caskets
or thin skin you clung
across when you saw how
fast it was expanding,
hide your fear
and they wont look for you
hide your beauty
and they wont look at you
just be you
and you'll be the one looking
because the hunt is far better
than being the prey.

to be the prey is a lamb's chase
and just in case you forget to
bring rope, I've got some tangles
you can hold onto. my heart veins,
they're solid and flowing with the stimulation
of snow.
white,
cold and fresh.
soft,
mold-able.
flesh,
I can't control myself.
warmth,
I'm buried, you're a carrier of shovels,
you dig me big
holes. put
yourself
in them.

feel the exasperation  of waking up
waking upwakingup waking
up but you're falling, up,
waking, up, and you're hallucinating
because your REM is still rolling, and
you're waking, just
waiting to release, to release,
to release
release.

you're in my heart
over the phone
trying to find ways
not to be alone
yet your tone has me ringing
and I want to take back what I said
because I don't know what the words I say are really meaning.

you've paid for me
no attention
simply pocket change
limitations.

not every word that breathes through me is recent,
or so much relevant as lessons.
some insights bury themselves, but I'm digging through what feels like sand.
I find it's better to live
and enjoy.
wait for the rain, and the drought, and the dry cracked peeling
to reveal what takes a second look, because one is not enough,
and if you only read it once, it wont carve into your skin,
you've got to scratch with the same tone as fluid movement
to understand the unbreakable stare of closeness that our flesh takes.