i am slowly drowning in my own skin as the days tick by. /// (sun. rise. set. rise. set. rise. set.)
i have forgotten the feeling of being burnt by a candle and i am getting sick of being left behind on motel walls and left under tongues. haunting breathing and missed airplane flights remind me that i’m alive, but all i want is to be left in a puddle to fester. inhale. exhale. i wish human bodies were transparent so we could see exactly how important each ***** is. maybe we wouldn’t hurt ourselves anymore. children laughing echoes in the rusting playground and we sit around the candle to watch it burn out. the birds make me wonder what its like to be free. every cell aches for that mysterious feeling and i am a sixty page poem on Dead People. is there a word for feeling every vein clog up and body shut down? across the street lies a chained boy writing about smoky eyed girls and heavy pockets, and right down the road there is a curled up girl thinking of flower stems and smudged paintings. we gargle the ocean and continue listening to the violent waves.

“I just want to be free” whisper the spinning planets