There are flowers springing from my bones in places they were never planted fracture my skull and call it apathy I say pain is a better road than dying alone; can't you see the way my vision is blurred, squinted too long at the sun now I think I've done damage burned holes in my corneas before the age of 21, but those are just surface things, right? the road feels a lot longer when the cold air hits all my soft spots, like my neck so I cover it up pooling all my efforts into growing thicker blood that will keep my skin warm ;keep kissing bruises on my arms, thinking that love will heal each new halfhearted attempt at self-sabotage or manage the leftover evidence; did somebody forget their brakelights on? I'm trying to figure out how to get these needles out of my head rocket science, learning to reverse detonate what might be left in my system system check, leaving sticky residue behind me in my heavy concave tracks softly trailing back gotta learn to do it right the first time before I backtrack my ears ringing like a sound clap; bringing up old war wounds like we've lost gives us some sense of entitlement things we don't want to lack, leave the last stack where I can mull over the aftermath digging graves for those who are still alive, burn my skin tonight burn it right off my bones so I'll know I'm alive still kicking like the second round the afterthought that realizes what went down the first time don't let me out of the house tonight, god knows what I might find.