i haven't washed
my clothes in weeks
i don't touch my hair
i let everything grow
like i am a tree
this is how i know
that im falling apart
slowly
i don't count
the minutes
on the bus
i have no desire
to feel music
i think about
all the goodbyes
i've bid
to different versions
of myself
then i sit in the shower
and i listen to rain
as i attempt
to piece together
my soul again
but the pieces
aren't broken
they're shattered
and i enjoy
each time
i slice my finger
on a shard
my demons have abandoned me
they say im
too
miserable
they'd rather
burn in hell
for all of eternity
than listen
to my cries
so now i sit
at the ocean
and i think of
the rocks
as the bones
crushed by my teeth
then i ask god
"are you afraid of me?"
i am
i know not
what i am capable of
one night
i punched my wall so hard
every poem
i'd ever written
fell out
then my nose
started to bleed
then i walked around
*******
i wrote like
the paper
was my head
and the pen
was loaded
then
i imagined myself
taking my last bath
my last breath
the pieces
floating together
and
growing tall enough
for angels
to climb
like a child
would
like i am a tree
then someone
will brush my hair
wash my clothes
and the only
version of myself
left to say
goodbye
to would have already
left