a day of chalk
and bruises.
your strength is flexible
I am curious how much
effort I have lost in thoughts of greatness
rather than making that greatness reality.

words have me in their throat
I can't help but scream with them.

I didn't wake up last night, not once.
It was a miracle and I woke up to blood,
which was also a miracle.

I threw cotton on my back,
I got caught on the door ****,
I thought I taught myself how to move,
guess not.

I sorted bottles from lowest to highest
I sorted ideas, just the same (how useful).

Using my tongue seems inevitable today
opening my throat, I'll talk to myself while I look others in the eye.
I'll let them know how I'm doing in robotic undertones
and wish I could bring the real conversation out every time.

It's too personal to know how someone really feels. It's too dramatic.
Love & ignorance & arrogance & waiting & chasing & giving up
trying to get over what you can't change,
about others & about yourself.

If this and because of that and you should have because I couldn't
and backwards again because I keep forgetting to breathe through the stress
that I inflict upon myself, so I choose another infliction and risk an infection.
You're not a disease but this won't last forever. I'm feeling like a tug of war tease
that can't stop begging for attention, although I can't seem to hold my own.

I've got a key to an open door and yet still I stand
with my frame in it's frame wishing for another
frame to place myself in. Maybe even hang myself,
suspension at it's finest. The elevation of my image might **** me,
so I'll save that trick for the dead and wait my turn like everybody else.

Take my number and count me out
ring me out like a wet rag and then
let me try and help you in other ways.

The graveyard was twilight and the fox was silent.
I was chalk-based chemicals, caffeinated and drinking, still.
He was worried about the unborn, our talking was a storm.
Emotions running wild through my speech, I wanted to shut up
but couldn't help speak. That happiness got me laughing, and it
got him a little too.
The madness was my walk to the car
but it didn't end when I got there.  

I kept on thinking like I like to.
I kept on talking like I like to.
Then I fell apart
because the most positive fact
that I will be alone forever.
The small pieces of chapped skin
which I ate off my lips
soon became a reflection
of how although I'm not always okay,
I will be after a good amount of pain.
Something shy of heartache shouldn't fall so deeply
for someone whose attention is so easily caught by
the seemingly unimportant. Something shy of heartache
shouldn't pay so much attention to the moment when
they finally hit the bottom of that abyss they fell into.

Something shy of heartache
and I'm turning into a ghost,
a shell of a baby that has the
ability to speak with knives
even though they're too afraid
to hold them, because they know
they'll just hurt themselves like forever.

I want to shut up about forever and give myself now.

I'm feeling lonely and I'm feeling raw, keep making fun of me.
I want to crawl back into the blue from which I came,
where everything was dark.
Ever since I've seen this light I've become increasingly more blind,
I'm torn in all decisions, keeping myself weak.
I'm buried in my own self too deep.
It's time to climb. I believe in myself this time, unlike the others (which aren't important).

Success is inevitable.