look down when im writing like there's blood on my hand life touchss my shoulder in the absence of death muss be dripping from the nostril from its bobbing crystal head i know its because i pulled out yellow flowers from spaces they left stop beggin u remember he says to a doe shaking water from her chin into your hands put them into your hands i put it into your hand i hope u understand this that even tho they are full they are as good as dead //flashing half eaten hearts off a cold gluttonous god// wrapped in a moth eaten blanket mine was never open enough to be filled with regrets i know that all we ever meant is what is left i know that all i know to dipsense is death ive been worming into and undergoing more than a modicum of stress pale birds still sleep when they bleed out their pigment i know because i watch them out my window when the moon lifts its head they plead with the weather thru crowding lachrymal stems I FEEL SO BAD cuz god its so obnoxious when he beats his barbaric chest then pleads and cries like a ***** when he cant hold his breath where was the last time u felt alive its not next to or even around me who has given you life even tho i never mean it even tho you always see it im a creature with eyes i feed on unbelieving finding every cross-way to die