dish water rattling
i want to take my clothes off
my neck is slightly aching
and all thoughts of love come rushing
through my lungs and constrict the position
that I'm placed.
privileged kids with big egos, big brains
heads full of assumptions because of the clothes you wear
or the friends you've made.
and it just so happens that you're one of them,
the strategy to get out of their judgement's alignment
alludes you and you fall into patterns like clay bricks
stacked one on top of the other in a straight row with
no cement between and you're restlessly waiting for them
to tip over and make your escape.

friendship wasn't so much as a license to love
as it was to be stepped on back then.
when the realization occurred in that brain
you framed impatient, the agreement to share
thoughts expired and you gave in to the dreams
you fought to suppress.

I want to undress.

my love is shy but he's all mine
he gets distracted and forgets the time
but look at me,
my love is bold and I am lost to it
I stare at the clock so long
I might as well marry it
oh, **** me please, I just want to carry it
this heart of mine in my chest
no, **** it, I'll just bury it.

if I wrote the things I wanted to say in anger
then I could just crumple them, just like my bones
do when I've jumbled them, and I can't get a grip
with the tip of my lip on your lip,
or
maybe that's the only way I feel I can in some moments.

here I am, killing myself.
don't worry, I'm doing it slowly,
and only slightly on purpose.

keep telling me you're trying,
I don't want to hear you've given up.