you've always acted like gravity, trying to keep my feet planted, trying to stop me from floating out because we both know I won't be an angel. but that never mattered to me.

I swore to you I was trying but you always kept me covered; embarrassed by the way I tore myself apart. mother, I was just trying to see the constellations. I was just trying to find something beautiful inside of me. it's so dark in there, I forgot about the blood.

you were always angry that I could never be quite as robotic as you. superficial; that my values didn't fit inside a handbag. I draped my body in black everyday preparing for my funeral.
I'll be dead soon.

I kept waiting for you to say something, to protect me. but you just watched as I ****** evil through a straw with bags under my eyes; as a ****** of crows perched at my bed waiting for me to be brave.

And I'm sorry that you ever had to shake your daughter and tell her to live or get a call from the ER. I'm sorry that I ever blamed you for my shattered reality.

I'm sorry about 2012.

"strange"
                                                 is declared
                                                  of person
                                         who rationalizes
                                                that­ matter if
                                         non-human
                                         non-animal
                                         non-living
                                      merits recognition
                                      as being good
                                      on it's own

                                      but really      
                                         are we
                                         the ultimate stewards
                                               of absolute purpose?

                         what confirms                      our judgement

                                        in deeming what deserves
                                             to exist for it's own
                                             and what belongs
                                                 to our means
                                                           ­                 and ours alone?

                                      is it so fantastic
                                                  to suggest
                                      that by some means of
                                                           indefiniteness
                                                  ­of intangible
                                                                ­            comprehension
                                                all matter
                                       is fundamentally intertwined
                                               in the sense
                                            everything is stardust
                                             created by
                                                                ­   the universe's omnipotent hand?

                                      don't you
                                                 ever get the feeling
                                      inside of your conscious
                                                       ­           too?

                                      doesn't your awareness
                                               ever whisper
                                                   as a sentience
                                                you have an obligation
                                                from some unspoken contract
                                                    sign­ed before birth
                                                  to uphold the integrity
                                                  of everything
                                                  that­ inhabits this earth
                                                       whether or not
                                  it thinks in the way                                       you do?

                                      for what purpose
                                           we exist assembled into
                     abrupt                 profound               togetherness
                                      remains       ­      undecided

                                      earth's fabrications
                                                 will survive
                                               harmoniously
                                      but
                                will you
                 do the same?

we live in the morning between smoking rooms
hanging underneath blankets
 soaked in glue

   we always climb that ladder           
       towards a higher value
     or maybe a better purpose

     sometimes we will laugh along
      and break down in the same week                    
        flashing everyone cracks hiding
           in private places

we've told you before
i'll say it again                  
the
  sun
    will
      not
      guide
         you.

here is now
 to what the
            heck?

         jump out of this year
         with that old joint attitude
         and leave a mark
          like it's too hot for me.

                  so quickly
                  that burden ate.
                   loved the way
                   he operates.

                      won't let us help.
                        needed it.
                        sounded good.

              man, what's wrong with less?

     let's meet up again sometime soon.
           after a few more questions.
           let's meetup somewhere  
                    between
                         two am
                                  and
                                   here.