This is the first breath that I've ever cared about.
Please abandon your everlasting doubt.
We've opened up a magic portal through an alien route,
exposing you to my internally dying dehydrating drought.

I'm like a waning foreign phoenix finding fairness in its contaminated ashes.
I still get flashes of post-traumatic emotional rashes,
from an abstract haunting nightmare  that I don't care to wear
on my not-so-bare chest anymore.
Be aware that I don't always do my share,
and that I am made of skin that has been known to ware and tear.
If this is just Truth or Dare, I don't want to play anymore.
Please be fair.
Please beware.

The snow has suddenly stopped straining my spiraling somber sorrows into silent sirens sounding seasonal surreal suicidal scenes of secret sappy solitude tomorrows.

And though the weakening leaves outside are withering,
and my feeble frozen bones are quietly quivering;
my shivering insides are shyly shifting
into brand new hues of brighter blues
that are constantly turning into a lighter and mightier muse,
like the autumn leaves that heroically live beneath my yearning Red Wing shoes.

I'm on a blissful beach of elated snow,
burying my feet in what we both know;
that our doubt has been put to rest below.

Is my perception becoming coherent now that I barely recognize you?
Is my brain becoming coordinated now that I realize I cannot hypnotize you?
I still spend my darkness delirious, longing for you to crave me,
and analyzing all the misread clandestine messages you gave me.

I'll be a liability until the time I am too old to lose;
until I choose for you to no longer be my shameful muse.
I'm no longer amused, just bemused and confused about how you could choose a sharper muse over my bitter heart which is drenched to the core in shameful *****.

I apologize for not being the durable woman you thought you appreciated.
The casket I built for my heart is too small for it to grow into a durable heart to be appreciated.
I wish I could be the new damsel you stumble into, but now you're wavering with a new damsel crew.

Is my perception becoming coherent now that I barely recognize you?
Is my brain becoming coordinated now that I realize your eyes told more lies than my empty hole, which only stubbornly cries?

I wish I could settle inside an insignificant casket with yellow birds and albino rats.
My hat's off to you for being my frozen rat that's in my exposed and taunting freezer, congrats.
Why won't you let me bury you like my frozen albino rats?

If there's anything I can do for you, you would never have to beg me.
Let me. I beg you.
Be indigo blue for me and I'll be true to you with nothing better to do than you.

I want to dimple your smile and file you away in the mile deep corners of my unkind mind---
even if it means bruising my dusty knees.
Please, be my hopeless Hercules with equally dusty knees.

Is my esophagus so full of **** that I have to purify it just to please?
Do I have to clear it just to breathe properly?
I fear I can merely wheeze miserably.
I hope it's just a stage; a torn out page in my autobiography that's theme I can no longer gauge.
Imagine the heart I could be able to manage successfully if I could only manage to grow gracefully with age.

Hello, see me.
Be with me and then free me.
Believe in me.
Bereave yourself of me.
Heave dust with me.
Believe in rust with me.
Be faithful rust for me.
Trust in me.
This must only be lust with me.

I'm a dark horse, shining bright black;
not confident about my silent and unsuccessful deathly attack.
I know I'm out of wack and disturbing.
Come back and engulf yourself in my misery.
Be dizzy for me and be unaware of where you are anymore.
Make me your least favorite chore. Make me your dishes.
Fulfill my wishes that I can't even articulate to you.
Be my hue of indigo blue and continue to do what you so desperately don't want to.

I've never been a front and center dancer,
but my childhood reveries want me to be a star.
But instead I'm stuck sitting in a bar counting my internal scars;
like notches on the bedpost you imagine holding up your mattress on the floor.
I wish I could simply coast like everyone else,
but instead I exist only as a transparent ghost tentatively listening to everyone boast about how humble they are.
No one is a star and I can't even see a path to go far anymore.

So turn down my music and witness me slowly lose it until there's nothing left to lose anymore.
All that will be left is my protected core, naked and vulnerable.
I'm the bull forced to fight and you're my matador.
I wish the door to my heart wasn't permanently unlocked.
I wish you would knock on my mock turtle heart that you can somehow touch while we're miles apart.
I wish I didn't exist only at the start.

This is my internal explosion. It's as if I slit a piece of art into every ***** and drained out everything that was taking up too much room, suffocating me. And everybody is wading in a pool of my insides without even noticing. I'm all torn apart far away from everyone and my pipe intestines are still leaking. Just put a rusty bucket beneath them. **** it. Let's wait for a mechanic that we don't even know to fix the leak and dump my organs into some random creek. I know I am weak, even though I act like a too cool for school freak, alienating me to nothing. Forgive me. You'll outlive me because I don't even feel alive anymore. I wish I was still a chore. I wish I didn't only exist on the outside of the door to your brain, unlike before. I wish I could still live in the insane with you. I wish I could be an amplifier for you. I wish I could still fly for you. I wish I could die with you. You hate it when I cry with you, so why do you always make me cry for you? Why do you force me to die for you all the time? I'm your zombie lover, standing for nothing except your brain.I wish I wanted to eat your brain but I only want to live inside of it. I'm your zombie lover trying and failing to haunt your memories. Why aren't you scared of me? You were never prepared for me. You never really cared for me or truly bared it all for me, until I was already buried. It's not like we were married or whatever. I just wish we could have carried the weight of our hearts together. But you never wanted my support or should I say weight, or should I say baggage, or should I say obnoxious and monotonous heavy heart?

You say you don't want to be with anybody right now. Does that make me just anybody? And don't kid me, please. I wish I wasn't so whiny and I wish your feelings weren't so tiny. I wish if I yelled, "Hide and seek!" you would actually try to find me. I wish you would be kind to me. I'm binded to my lonely splint of solitude. I wish people would quit asking about my mood as if they don't understand that I'm brooding my monotonous personal etude constantly. My etude's mood is a just a ******* boring dude at party.

My heart is a leaky pipe dripping tears into an empty bucket. **** it.

It's funny to think about all the times you asked me to smoke a cigarette with you and I told you it was too cold, so I waited patiently inside, knowing you'd come back.

Now I'd travel to Antarctica if it meant I could smoke a cigarette with you.

Now I smoke alone and the sound of me flicking the end of my cigarette sounds like the side-door to my brain opening and slamming shut--- the one only you have the key for.

You're a winged beetle and I am a lightening roach during our paranormal hour.
Why am I struggling the weight of a vagabond on my slack-spine back with slack strings that bring silly string dreams to my brain starring an amateur fawn.
Why are you attracting your mate this late in the morning?
I think I'm late to my own mourning ceremony.
How phony of me to accept this bait that that I've dangled so familiarly.
Silly me with my silly string lullabies like sighs of goodbye pranks.
Thanks for making me your mate, or am I prey?
I've been growing a frigid light inside me.
I've watered it and watched it grow into a person.
This frigid light suggested a tundra flight in an instant shock,
juxtaposing the dismal night like an instant dusty fish on our musty hidden floor.
I'm just an instant dusty chore,
a crusty crustacean washed up on the faded shore.
I'm just a maudlin faded bore that's always needing more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more.
I wish I wasn't an instant fish, beautiful and shocking,
unlocking a rainbow that's inducing emotions that I'm chemically reducing slowing to nothing,
producing lightening from my murky roach of a lower firefly belly,
that's been on display a lot lately,
greatly failing to focus your unfocused attention.
I'd like to mention how the lines of your words and the lines of your body and the lines of your face have become blurred to me.
Tomorrow they will be crisp and clear, though.
I know they will be and my head will be sleeping in an endless foggy dream.