when this sickness has become the identity of your anatomy every scratch that doesn't bleed out is a worship song. every time i knock on the door and you are alive to open it i wanna melt down my house keys forever. i wanna tell you that any other taste of metal that promises you home is the blasphemy of your chemistry. i can't sit back and watch my only brother's mind turn into a car stalled across train tracks. i can't look at his throat anymore and only see a rope. i wanna open his skull and see where the ******* are hiding. i wanna pull chemicals from his brain like teeth. there's 3 years and 2 suicide attempts between us and i want to keep death farther from him than anyone ever kept it from me. i want to make his hands look like anything but a reason. i want to make the voices sound like anything but his own. i want to make them sound like anything but permission.