It's 3am and I am wide awake
I have vicious nightmares at times,
Not horror movie types,
Just ones that I fear the most.
Being buried alive is bad--when it is the one you love it is even worse.
I hear him scooping the dirt in the shovel,  and pouring it on me.
"You really fell for it. All I had to do was pretend that I liked you,  and you fell right in."
He chuckles, as another pile of dirt is added.
Im begging him
"Please,  what do you want?  I'll do whatever you want,  just let me out! "
He chuckles again,  "You say that....they always say that... But you know what?  You lie,  all you women just lie your way into jobs, relationships,  and hell, even in marriage! You think I'm going to suddenly believe you out of all of them?! "
The casket is slightly sinking from all the dirt that is piled on now.
I'm sobbing uncontrollably as I realize my fate.
"I'm different, you said it yourself. When I met you,  you said--"
"Well I lied.  I'm getting pretty good at it.  Practice makes perfect."
I continue to cry, and my one last attempt at freedom--
"I love you. "
He stops shoveling, and with a raggedy breath,
"...What? "
I open my heart for my last plea,
"I give my heart fully to anyone that accepts my quirks and even the weird parts about me.  In the brief time we knew each other,  you laughed at my corny jokes,  smiled at me,  and even wanted to know about me.  So even as I am about to die,  
Why would I lie with my last words?  I might as well say what I truly feel because that is what I do. I fall headfirst in love with someone I barely know,  and that is why I always get heart broken no matter what.  So what I just said I meant it. "
He paused,  then he tosses the shovel down beside the hole,  and he jumps down into my grave,
"Well,  I--
My eyes snap open.
It's 3am and I'm wide awake.

Morning is a cold metal gun placed to my temple
Time is a trickle of blood I won't remember

A little girl knocked on my door today, flower bouquet in her hands and a smile plastered on her face as though its the only emotion she knows. She steps foot in without asking permission to. Her hair falls down the side of her face and I was trying hard to hide the tears that were streaming down mine. She didn't hide her curiosity
“Why are you sad?”

When her eyes looked up and met mine I felt ashamed that I could be uncovered by a girl who I seemed to recognize but couldn't quite pin out the memory of where. She hands me the flowers and their scent brings me back to a time that seems so clear, yet so distant.
I tell her I’m not sad, but rather sick. And the smile drops from her face as she says “Mommy says that too”

It woke a spark in the hollow of my mind to a time where I used to hear the same thing. Flashed back to a time where the only music I heard was the crashing of pans in the kitchen and the fall of hard liquor into small cups that were guzzled before I could taste them. The sound of yelling in the bathroom and glass being broken at 1am when the world was asleep. The whimpering of a small voice coming from the dusty couch in the family room, where our family never gathered in. The stumbling of my fathers intoxicated feet as he came up the stairs to pass out in a bed that was made for two. I remembered her skin stained purple, her eyes shot red and asking her “Mommy, why are you sad”. And with delicate hands that enfolded my face, she barely looked me in the eyes as she said “Darling, I’m not sad; but rather sick”

In that moment I realized that sometimes, they’re the same thing.
My throat dried up and hands felt numb as I grabbed the girl by the shoulders
“What’s your name and where are you from”
The smile vanishes, her eyes meet mine; with one look she gives me the answer I already know.

But before I can tell her that I remember seeing her face when I looked into broken mirrors, before I can beg her to not get into the habit of turning her skipping rope into a noose, before I get the chance to say that love is not supposed to be fists to the skin, and rough hands around fragile necks;

I blink and she’s gone.

There was a certain point
Of no return
When you were killed into art
And dreams were burned

I am still haunted by that night
In pieces at a time
I recited you a poem
But I forgot how to rhyme

I never knew that our lives would extend this far intertwined

i am awakened with
     a tingle of static
     that runs across my fingertips

and as my eyes try to focus
     on the blank white walls,
     a contented sigh escapes my lips.

it’s been full moons since
     i saw the sunlight
     through dusty curtains seep

so I stare a while
     and with a smile,
     fall slowly back to sleep.

My life is in tatters,
in shambles
in shreds.

None of this matters,
these gambles,
this dread.

I can’t help but wonder,
and worry
and stress

My action are blunders,
a flurry,
a mess.

My world is spinning,
is twisting,
is falling.

The paranoia’s winning,
it’s persisting,
it’s calling.

My control is waning,
it’s dying,
it’s paling.

This smile I’m feigning,
I’m crying,
I’m failing.

My days are numbered,
are checked,
are few.

And I feel so encumbered,
I can’t connect
with you.

That awkward moment when
You realize your entire life
Your passions
Your opportunities
Your abilities
Are all made possible by the
Blood
Sweat
And Tears
Of people you will never even know
Existed