seismic waves
are so pretty
so elegant
so refined
when they’re not worn between you and the ground

i think bodies are just vessels for soul
they are not who we are, they are not the definition of us
they’re just storage until we pass on to that place that is neither great nor terrible nor recognizable or nameable in the slightest
not a heaven or hell
a feeling in the direction we touch as up
nothing there
nothing we have words to describe
it’s a just

i only look good in half-light
with a cup of motivation
and music scratching in the tips of my ears
bare
no ill-fitting clothes
the ill-fitting skin is enough
just the meat suit and tight shadows
curling up my legs and over my arms,
twitching as they breathe down my neck,
it’s an incorporeal kind of feeling
this is a half-living you see,
the most effective coping method, i’ve found.
shut off half your brain and turn out all the lights
easier for the shadows to find you then
sit back
relax
let the phonograph sing you to a three-quarter dreamland where only the soft satin tendrils of sound stroke the insides of your earlobes and press themselves into your palms

fall back

dawn is the best time for musings
the light is semi-bright and it casts everything into slanted shadows
it sets an artistic kind of tone,
a pleasantly cold atmosphere
my letters spin out clearer
my sentences flow out oh, so much better
it’s morning but not quite
every thing is still still
not as a grave, more so a comforting blue-white blanket over a pair of legs
cars don’t dare rush by, no dogs risk a bark
just the synchronized breathing of a thousand resting minds
and cool blast of conditioned air as it circulates around the room
it’s too late for the monsters to come out,
and i can traipse fearlessly through a castle of sheets and words that i cannot say when the sun shines brighter
the world is still young

my barricade has become a prison
4 walls that shrink every day and slowly cut off my oxygen
they worked too well i sing to them in a melancholy tone
more often heard in the mouths of whales
there's a sea of bones and they’re pricking at stray scraps
look out there, past where the sky meets the earth
if you look hard enough you’ll see it
cold and empty and sloshing it calls to me now
“leave me now” i say to the space beside me
before you go pre-heat the oven to 950
i need a warm place to rest and that sounds about right
skeletal hands grip around my expanding skin and pull me down
tight tight tight they sew me a corset of my own rough skin
teeth flood my throat and scratch at my collarbone
self-inflicted sorrow
heart disease in a can
barreling through my system, how much longer do i got, doc? 
my bones are unknitting and my brain is unraveling
pink tendrils sinking to the bottom of my skull, goodbye little ones, i never did use that much anyways
my skin peels beneath my fingers and my light won't turn out
5 am and i'm a halfway alcoholic all i need is the *****
my capillaries have frozen and i'm an ice rink now
sliced and diced and punched into shape
ready to ride over 
no words left no line gaps no punctuation 
who has time for that when they're doing nothing?
i haven't eaten in a week
and i'm still spewing everywhere
pressure points and muscle strands oozing against my frame
i can feel all my ribs beneath my hands
and the jelly will vaporize and i’ll just soften
maybe if i push hard enough the skin around them will shatter and i’ll collapse inward

well now
it appears that i’ve undone myself

11:29 PM
how long has it been 11:29 PM i wonder
how many times have we leapt in circles through space,
and how long until it will be 11:30 PM i wonder

11:32 PM
how long ago was it 11:29 PM i wonder
and did my headphones say “small” or “smart”
sing it again if you please, i beg of you
i just can’t quite catch it
the webbing of my ears was built by a faulty spider,
drunk on success, he was
one too many flies he caught in a day, they say behind hands in soft voices
now his work is a mere shadow of what it used to be

8:24 PM
i can’t bare moving my eyes upward
and seeing 8:25 PM
it would make my stomach twist and my organs grow cold
2 minutes line my eyes with dark marks and i’m only existing on a plane of melancholy

2:46 PM
i
want a reason to be sad
i need justification
i need a reason
not an excuse
because the world is cold and my printer broke
and i lost my favorite stuffed animal
and i’m not a five year old anymore
because i ******* hate Nike so ******* much

somewhere past 11:23 PM
i lost the minutes in a haze of emotional speeches, never to be heard outside the blue-lined walls, and steam
a fuzzy 11:40 PM reflects a faint shape of a vessel,
carrying one soul,
destination; THE END
arrival time; unknown
eyes brimming with anxiety i exist outside my head only

i lost track of the time
i don’t know if it’s dawn or dusk or day anymore
i only know muted poundings and pathetic drops of water across the floor
the white white white white white floor
i should get a watch

it's been a long time since i strained my mind
tried to make words and sentences
and i think i forgot how
i can only remember the late nights with my christmas eyes and throbbing hands
now my veins are fit to bursting
although it's been so long
truth be told,
i don't think i feel enough any more
mild annoyance
and the occasional bouts of apathy and despair
i'm a one-way train and i'm going in circles
there was an episode of the twilight zone, where a couple had been dropped in a mysteriously empty town
and it buzzed with the sounds of silence
a child’s laughter echoed above them
and they were frantic little rats, the **** of a human-napping
there was a train they rode, an empty train, that moved in circles,
it was their last salvation, it was to move them from the eerie town to their own home
instead in drove them in a full circle
it turns out they had been abducted by aliens but that's beside the point
i'm a little train
leading myself to hope and wonder and safety
instead i'm back where i started
the only difference being the fear ridden needles pricking at my stomach now
i can feel them going deeper
i can feel them getting sharper
they'll be unbearable soon but i don’t think about that
instead i think of the promise lands,
of ice that isn't hot and a grand estate and a playground that doesn't smell like old french fries
a permanent state of dawn,
filled with pastel and richness and unadulterated beauty
there's a toothpick lodged between craggy teeth
it's dead dead dead but it's so beautiful
the rising sun that embodies the word majestic
and there's a pair of strong hands can guide me through my time
a constant plane of calm and a constant feeling of happiness
it's such a nice feeling, warming as it pumps through your blood and explodes in your chest
spreads fast it's content and it shakes me to my core
it runs so fast, just there and gone

i'm in the station again now
bags packed
eyes duller than a broken doll's
i’m ready to go go go go go
take me on another circle i need the closure