There aren’t enough stars in the nights sky
to pin each reason for the writing of this
whether its because im stuck in the city
of the stars themselves are twinkling in this bottle of
forgetful recollections
there is no apology after a gunshot
just a ringing
like a telephone call from a place where nothing is heard
no funeral service for the kid thats been walking around in his casket
for the past seventeen years
there are too many paper cuts on my thumbs
whether from love letters or suicide notes,
schrodinger's cat is here to torment us all
I wish an apology was in order
but this was meaning to be written since the first time
I smiled
and felt a crack in the lining of my heart
you dont need to tell me about how my heart feels like
abandoned roadways
that people refuse to drive upon
friendships capsized like the titanic
but there is no piece of wood for me to hold onto
just my own self loathing pulling down my ankles