Cars,
Like coffee pots,
Break down,
And more so,
When you least want them to.

So imprisoned,
The frigid,
And with no power-windows,
We didn’t care about the heat,
Only the smoke
That now stung our eyes –

Two-fold
Atop already open wounds,
And the cancerous,
Lying in wait, most often,
Indiscriminately.

So enters the second urge,
And it controls me,
I don’t control “it;”

“It” being a mood frosted
Amnesia, free,
Like beer’s hiss,
At the crack of a can.

And like beer,
“It” runs out
When the money does;

All too quickly to be
Replaced by the
Haunts of –

Bill collectors, war
And the knife in the drawer.

Something beckons when
We spot a diner from within
The snowbound derelict
We reside.

Scraped change and reckonings,
We can afford a few,
Drinks.

Forgotten were the coats when
We abandon ship, abandon you,
Abandon me,
And more importantly,
The haunts;

Our chariot, a remain,
A wreck on shores unknown
With bodies, perhaps,
Left for the living come spring.

I really like the way your hair waves in crimson hues.
The way you hold your cigarettes is as light and airy as your voice.
Watching you sing your favorite songs, makes them my favorite too.
What am I gonna do, if I keep falling for you?
I've got a crush on you.

let go of the things not meant for you,
but hold on tightly to the things that are.
allow yourself to feel the pain when your heart biffs it,
but don’t let the pain hinder your growth.
you are an open wound.

the rain will sting.
but the blood will always wash away.

Will you build a paper town with me?

Not like a landmark on a copywrited map,
but like a haven for our transparent hearts.
We'll make armour out of discarded parts,
and I'll fight gallantly for your love.
We can fold the edges, and bend the lines;
we can race the shadows and chase the time,
sculpting refuge from the bitter cold
of a rigid, solemn, dreamless world.
At night, the moon will guard us,
with a jealous kind of grudge,
grieving when you handle me,
envious of your touch.
The sun will rise to mourn me,
and lay you down in fields of dust,
as we paint the town with every colour
of our infinite, utopian love.

I guess I take after my mother. The way she walks, talks, screams and disintegrates.
It's not fair, I didn't ask for the comforting feeling of falling off a 300 foot building just to land face first at my dinner table.
And my hand writing looks like an etch a sketch trying to paint a picture of how we're still holding this family together. But it all falls apart so quickly if I give it a shake.

If you cut me in half you could count my scars like a tree stump. And they branch out with my misfortunes hanging on like leaves.
I'd do anything to cut down my family tree
Or for my mother to even hear me speak.
If I could I'd take my fist through my her voice box and wash her brain cells with rubber gloves and dish soap.
If I could just cleanse her ears with my screams.
How could I take after her when I'm the only one that's listening?

You ever wonder what it would be like for your own mother to find you in your room with dangling from your ceiling fan?
I know it's selfish but I can't go one ******* night without thinking about what would happen if I blew a red light
I am already two feet planted at the edge of the roof of a 17 story building shaped like the home I grew up in. Each floor is a year of my life I never got back.
The voices in my head saying "don't do it! don't jump" But I've already reached the ground before I even stepped off the ledge. Nothing's different.
I'd ask to stay home sick but they don't have a thermometer to measure the amount of love you're deficient of.
And they don't have a cure for neglect.
I didn't ask to be born with self destruction
Or to have to make friends with all of my grudges.
They're shaped like the ones that have raised me.
But they never left me less than empty.

My father and I joke about ending it all, we laugh in unison but I know that we both know neither one of us is joking.
If he died he would die in my closet, with the skeletons that kept me alive.
They'll bury him with my secrets that didn't **** me but kept me dead inside.
And in his eulogy I will concoct up a swarm of lies to commemorate his broken promises.
But he can rest with an clear conscious knowing my I'll live the rest of my life pretending to not be haunted.

If this family was a time capsule I would put in a letter to my father every single time he wasn't there to tell me to believe.
So I can open it 10 years later and remember that the fault here wasn't mine to keep
I hope your mistakes sing you to sleep every night you never did for me.
And every nightmare causes your eyes to bleed because every single time that I needed you, you were too blind to see.

If the apple doesn't fall far from the tree why do I feel like I'm so close to bouncing back.

And maybe we can talk about the most vivid memory I carry from my childhood; My mother left the stove on too long unattended resulting in melted plastic in a ruined *** and toxic smoke that'd press heavier on our shoulders than we'd ever imagine and for years to come. But the stinging in my eyes and the burning in my throat remained unparalleled until I watched as you burned out in front of me and I was forced to swallow the caliginous reality *that you just wouldn't be around anymore.

Can't I be the one you dream about,
and wake up empty and alone?
Like when you're already in your bed,
but all you want is to go home.
The one you want to call
every time you see a phone.

pull out your eyelashes
imagine pinching yourself repeatedly but not feeling a thing
stare at the tail lights of the car ahead until your eyes are crying but you're still not
chew a mouthful of sand
put ice cubes in your pockets and let them melt there
pour paint over your head while wearing your favorite shirt
break a nail and let it catch on all of your tights
close your hair into the car window
trip into ****** knees stay there and don't get up

don't get up