the wishing well
over flowed that morning,
and she was true blue--
died with diamonds
still in the corner of her eyes.
i feel like crawling
back to myself
in this endless tempest
of a life
within a life unlived.
and i paint in onyx,
the details of my will, that is,
on the ceiling of my bedroom
**** it.
i really have lost it this time--
voodoo in my chest
my heart-
that moon.
******* and whiskey brains
so let the red show
because i’ve taken the stars back
and told the priest to *******
and still i am here,
overflowing, this morning.
swollen mind
i wear the dark of night
so proudly.

speak only to say something
beautiful. sinking
in the terminal kind of sadness.
toughen up kid,
this is it.
this is what we’ve got.
this is what surviving
with style looks like.