i often think of death
at the hands of Galileo
a cluster of galaxies
pouring through his fingernails
and weaving his way
like a silk ribbon in the midst of a cotton dress
camouflage designed to keep you hidden
from the enemy across the cliff
but you can't hide from the other side
because the other side is inside of you
and they have their weapons
pointed directly at your weak chains
a galaxy formed inside of you
a white dwarf star that
collects energy over decades
pressed together into mere seconds
and it spills over the edges
like spilt wine on linen sheets
i've thought of death
at countless midnights
in the middle of hallways
in your arms
swaddled in the equivalent of a human burrito
at the mere peek of your face
out of the corner of my eye in
a place where there is no forgiveness
they always directed me
to one place
it was a safe haven of sorts
they took a mirage of an ocean far away
and on bad days,
implanted in the comfort of your solitude
on most days,
i fought silently and alone
on bad days,
i fought against something vicious
but alone
i've thought of killing myself
countless times
but the fools hope
always brought me back
and i learned to bury my anxieties
so only my most trusted comrades knew
the different between a shaky 'I'm fine'
and a shakier 'just tired'
it was like a ticket stub,
for a movie that wasn't even all that great
but you went anyway
because you wanted a distraction
and i would rather be dead-alive
than alive-dead
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
i often think of death
at the hands of Galileo
a cluster of galaxies
pouring through his fingernails
and weaving his way
like a silk ribbon in the midst of a cotton dress
camouflage designed to keep you hidden
from the enemy across the cliff
but you can't hide from the other side
because the other side is inside of you
and they have their weapons
pointed directly at your weak chains
a galaxy formed inside of you
a white dwarf star that
collects energy over decades
pressed together into mere seconds
and it spills over the edges
like spilt wine on linen sheets
i've thought of death
at countless midnights
in the middle of hallways
in your arms
swaddled in the equivalent of a human burrito
at the mere peek of your face
out of the corner of my eye in
a place where there is no forgiveness
they always directed me
to one place
it was a safe haven of sorts
they took a mirage of an ocean far away
and on bad days,
implanted in the comfort of your solitude
on most days,
i fought silently and alone
on bad days,
i fought against something vicious
but alone
i've thought of killing myself
countless times
but the fools hope
always brought me back
and i learned to bury my anxieties
so only my most trusted comrades knew
the different between a shaky 'I'm fine'
and a shakier 'just tired'
it was like a ticket stub,
for a movie that wasn't even all that great
but you went anyway
because you wanted a distraction
and i would rather be dead-alive
than alive-dead
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