i walk with no head between my shoulders
setting fires with dead lighters
dirtying the lines and the condition carrying heavy in each step
and the steady ticking of my watch has become my heart
i can't recall much between coffee grounds and a pair of soft eyes and smile
things don't seep in and it has become a taught art
something tied to me; something i tied myself to

over filled radios
holy bedding &
i guess i'm yours now

the blinds can't quite block out people like you'd hoped they would
the moon still shines when you close your eyes
the mercury still seeps in between closed eyelids
reduced to veins that run hollow
you know they were once filled with electricity
but you can't remember the sting
wristwatches slowing time as they go to sleep
drowsy hands still can't cover the bruise
pupils dilate to conform to the darkness
but you can still see them
throat contracts and it's just not right
to assume it's because of the lack of oxygen
you're choking on your own breath
and your thoughts still roam to them
don't worry
even if your reasons are selfish, how can they not be?
you're a lover after all

under the skin all i am is blood and thought
forming into a lesser sum of the whole
fitted between floorboards and motel rooms
between clumsy words and continental souls
this is a tired, drippy saying my mother would repeat from the tongue, like a song but not like a poem, just a saying
"love this strong has to be domesticated"
and i wish i didn't exist outside of my head; i only wish to be a vacancy of thought
and i've bruises on the insides of my palms from it; easily hidden and slowly mended

streets sweat for toothache medicine
blood enlisting for war
tea dogs don't love their dads
i never knew what a healing arm meant
neither does my alarm clock
dizzy floors and tired chardonnay
tastes like a late born baby
a list of things that are the same:
******, the human centipede, and pepsi
but my girl's gone and my head hurts

the stars crowned you theirs; gave a constellation as your crown and i don't think you're coming home just yet. up there it's just me, you, the cough syrup pacing in our veins and the tears we both know you're holding back;we went from scraping our knees to scraping the ice from our eyelashes. punching holes in the night sky and the sheets on your side of the bed have gone cold. in a few minutes i'll find you in the alleyway between your flat and mine; tucked away in a dumpster because you only matter in space

we built a god from bruises and good-byes
nightly, i prayed, not to him, but to you and the thunder in your ribcage that i felt every time you held me
you said it was a side effect of the creaks in my floorboard and the shadows in my arms but honestly
i could always feel the motion there, only it feels dead now
this isn't love; this is me haunting my own body
this is stale music and trembling lips between life and soul
and you whisper,"it's late you should go home. it's late, please go home"
but we both know that this way we will remain

a water farmer on two seperate planes of existence
on the ocean floor, drinking sea water n writing lov lettrs
drifting into hockey head desire
i was born in a motel 6, and i wanted to b a power ranger
but blue power is frowned upon

i want to die inside yr ***** bedsheets
my teenaged years were mapped by hoodie string nooses, crystals shards, and hands tightening about my throat
i am still finding pieces of you at the bottom of this beer bottle
don't call me at 4 in the morning to tell me you smoked ****
we don't need to talk about this now
even if i let every plant die and burned at the edges
i only miss yr dog

i miss the childhood i left in the car window
orange juice *****
baby swings n stealing hot wheels
snow angels, growing seeds like they were our fallen teeth
strawberry plants, candy necklace lovr
my father only loved my mother allowing him to hit me n  a few places in between

i woke up wanting to kiss you
you woke up as a hurricane wanting to go home
producing half-felt emotions from the pit of our throats
in the morning we slid off each other, me first then you; fragments upon your bedroom floor
sinking into our clothing: you in my worn out sweater and me in your bed sheets
we nod each other good bye and sit through the day
mouthing i love yous 'til we go home alone

lately my limbs feel faint and my teeth feel like china glass
a sleeping outline and other such feelings
cold knees and elbows and wet grass with morning wake ups
swimming in ice driven pools
i am ready for you to ruin everything i am and have thought myself to be

there you sit, legs intertwined with cheap playground equipment
coughing up your lungs and your pride
they pool around you, scratching at the dirt
making their way lower and lower
you stare at the same sky dripping with liquor
sleepy souls still in their packages, just how you like them to be
from inside their homes made of vietnamese plastic
some dream of lovers with knuckles the colour of bone
others nightmare of their abusive fathers
others of streetlight eyes watching them, under a microscope
some even walk, under lids, their coffee stained eyes stay alert
then there's you, with your ego ***** and broken, dreaming of your old generic laughs, of the hugs in which you could feel hands clawing at your back so hard you almost wish their fingers would intertwine with your veins
your eyes on the night sky holding all the diamonds in the world like a jewelry store case
running full circles in your mind
you try to let your veins run dry
if only it were that easy

there's a constellation of glass shards in the back of your car
tessellate them into a few sleepy cigarettes
within a few drags
the night and your room became the universe
and i'm forgetting to say that it was anxiety
that passed me the blanket to give you
we're tucked into a few comforters; i'd like to stay that way
but when you wake up, you still have to break the icicles that formed between us and i can't say i ever fell asleep

i know how to deal with the wounds but i was never taught what to do with the blood
the meds may have chased away the monsters, but i'm not done playing dead

stuck in the blender, tender knuckles n glass
sleep between bone, add water, rinse n repeat
never a god and never mine
soap carvings, fruit drawings; yr my sugar ant
i'm going to die n i can't feel anything about it
either way, i'm still holding down yr kid

i exhaled what was left of me into what was left of you
spilling into streets, into changing hands
my mind stays on this, the stinging of distance and the fit of your voice in my ears
the thought is without heat, without body, yet i know i am alive to it
alive to the dripping of the rain running between tired gutters and to the thaw of orbiting debris in both night and day
but i am most alive to the way you dissolve me, the simple fact that my astronomy is yours

mood ring sentiments
ants down the sink
my baby teeth in the blender
tender tea leaves, a fistfight bound
it scarred my beautiful girl
you can glue my already attached limbs to my body but they won't be mine

nothing is formed until it suffers
tree *****, car exhaust
even darwin was a mouth breather
nobody is ever done playing dead
some are never ready to be anything but
i was born to be a coffin

a mood ring couldn't show how i feel 4 you
, yr a caffeine halo n the tender gums of childhood
i have  never been anything but shotgun shells and outlines
i want you to love me when a comb and toothbrush are my only complaints
cough into my shoulder baby it'll pass it'll pass
i think i was born loving you

i feel my heart mirrored in sheets and pillows
sweat melts from my skin
but it feels like a welcoming
sleep slides into her gently like a repeated prayer
her thoughts are untamed and hold her together
and it means the world
that i will not forget the restless taste of quivering lips
because you are not one easily followed
and it is an unholy realization
that i won't tire of it

undoubling foot and roof
soft sting of sore muscles
between eye and glass
waiting for the portrait to tremble and meet me
soap carving stick to the walls of one's lungs
pour me between teeth and gum; i'll stay, i'll stay
even if it doesn't feel right in my head
i'd rather the weakness of skin than pain

one day the gentle flesh upon me will rot into what i'd always hoped i was
and the packets of sugar from the hospital cafeteria dismantle in my pockets
and i know i belong, only 6 feet beneath the surface
stitch me in and leave me; forget me
i've been laying in orange peels ever since

she sat there just full of my nothing
left me alone too long and now my veins intertwine with the fake wood grain
this is something i no longer miss for the sake of leaving things to dry

exit coma and earnestly yours
all ears but no tongue to tell me yr boiler still won't work
patience is not a telescope i can see myself through
passed out on the floor of a concert hall, 3 broken bones n i'm coughin cherry wine
tylenol headaches make wine taste bettr
i am real. i do not feel safe.

beat the feeling out of any pottery shards
i was born outside of myself
i still want to kiss you past three layers of bad pill head
my feet have frozen into life and i can hear the news playing from inside a tree
lunar mare and whiskey are the same, when you've blurred enough
maybe something that is made beautiful is not made to be loved

she held me th way one kicks aside smeared bug, which is to say: gentle, unwilling, and all fearing
th tender pain she left to mold felt all weakness leave my body
her darkness was th light with which i navigated the puddles of beer and wet clothes, th very image of a god in utero
i was again, the bug, carcass and feeling all stuck
tethered to reality by trauma and th promise of survival
yet still
in very much th same way one flicks about th switches to lights that have lng since felt th soft burn of life give out, she asked if i loved her
to which i replied: i don't - i don't - i don't - i don't feel safe

i miss everything for the sake of sleep
rain can't dissolve feeling, only orange tablets
i have been trying to sell this skin since the day i made myself *****
hunger does not tie with humanity, but even still, it is sorry
i will sleep in her head until the day i die
i was not made to be loved, just to fix bikes

flowers have started growing where you last slept on my bed
rain on the inside of your eyelids and i know i'm the reason
and i'm the one questioning if i was ever enough
at night i can still see the stars huddling around your feet
you tell me you still love me and i say it back but it's all one volume
at night your finger still curls around my belt loop
and you go skyward leaving my fingerprints glued to my eyes

a sweater wearing a beer bottle
floorboard lighter
good freeways
leave it alone, the wood grain wasn't meant for this
watered down and melty
maybe these ears aren't mine but i know they hurt
yell in my ear matthew it'll feel better
i love you honeypot

sooner or later, we all unhinge
only i never thought it would be before the space in your arms ran out
and the poems i'd stuffed under my mattress had started giving me back problems
iced over hands can't hold pencils properly, i've found
and you can't sleep through a cold
in the end it all leaves my thoughts scraping on pieces of you
and with an overwhelming sense that i never had anything to offer you

dizzy bottles,  tired floor
key taped to the walls
footaches,, y'know i have loads of junior strength tylenol
yr my benadryl hunny
i'll never leave you longer than it takes for the cold to set in

it's been weeks and i'm left ******* at the pockets of air around your neck
gravity slows down time and i'm in the collar of my shirt
we're floating from each end of reality
and i'm stuck orbiting your thoughts
i know that the pain has drained beneath our feet and to the bottom of the earth
but you were still the last star to go cold
and my eyes have melted into my skull; my veins intertwine with the
bed sheets where you kissed my eyelids shut
and i'm trying to write motions into headache poetry
like feeding life into death

i was raised from a seed only knowing the taste of my own blood
belts planted in my thighs, back, my skin became the soil for bad intentions to sprout
gravity dissociates when shoes are airborne or at hand
i know you held down every animal slaughtered
that you were bred from the same seed, denied water and sun
but forgiveness isn't fine china, and i can't make it for you
bitemarks are the only thing i could defend myself with
yr fingerprints never faded from my collar
it dilutes with the passing of generations
but the meaning stays the same

flesh for flesh doesn't mean the same
as it used to
it won't work, i am skin stretched too tight over knuckles; you are the light that bleeds through the blinds between time and day
i never cared to learn how to put out matches on my tongue
no, i do not want to be left with laundry hands
i am sorry for anything i have done, am doing, and will do wrong

you are the shifting light i am endlessly chasing
but i'm inside out and terrified of peace
and you're looking for his heart in my chest

my hamster died and i keep thinking of his dandelion mouth
overdose me into thinking right

ive got a bad case of earphone head
added to the laundry list of reasons to commit suicide
im not the outline i was born to be
josh says he's talking to voicemails
n i guess we all kinda are
my legs are melting, dripping from telephone babies
i don't want yr hours i want socks without holes in the toes
i keep forgetting to bring the tea that reminds me of her soft skin
i think she is an angel
either way ill end up like the bride ghost

tethered to bed and bruise
cut through orange and flesh
you can swim between chest and shoulder
disassemble my ribs for the chance to breathe and in exchange i'll write you into my wall
yet still i want to take something more than motion from you

holiness dissociates between my eyes
samurais with ptsd and human tendencies
are the closest to a lulluby during noon
between rib and flesh, the movement uncomfortable

my head feels bettr filled with blood
fear feels like comfort when it's overheated enough
things are easier and softer 6 feet beneath
hamster death and salt crystals are the same
in retrospect
i am never the same as i ever will be
yet i'll never stop waking up from naps sad

i've never known the safety of a chest
i speak in tongues to my hands
kiss my own knuckles
fill my own mouth with blood
and convince myself that this is love
but love is a peaceful moon
unmarred
stuffed with understanding
it is baring your throat and crying
'please come home'
it fills my chest snugly
but i am a sharp knife
like my father and his
the tenderness dies in my throat

halls and ricola substituting as glue for every boat i lost on saturn
i left my head between the rings and the finger
maybe nothing is ever meant to be loved

i am a burial ground, bone between index and thumb
yet to conquer the violence of feeling
i am half made up with no chance
and i did it all to be the shiver in your spine, the tears that seep into your cheeks when i mention your grandfather or biking or the ocean where you left your sun
i did it all for you press your hands together and tell me i was never real
for a foggy smile and a drippy chest to lay my head
i never retired into the idea of domesticity

[intro]

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G|---1---------1-------------------­------------------------------------------|
D|-2---------2-------­--------------------------------------------------------|
A|-----­--2---------2----------------------------------------------------­-----|
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th pain was a monument to itself
saying 'i am u, and u r my god'
i waited for it to crack into manageable pieces
sat full of my own nothing until it made sense
cast spells to remember to take my meds
but ur abuse has a body count
and my justice was lost in translation
i told myself i had earned my anger
and bled on anyone i cld
until i found myself alone, soaked in blood tht was no longer mine
but pain doesnt melt so easy
it is liquid air in my lungs pressing against me until i soften arnd it
it is a black eye i can no longer keep saying i got in a fight
i wish i cld run parallel to it
but now my head swims between realities
everyone thought i wld grow out of it but instead i grew into it
i can nearly taste th end like a light flickering between tired and sleepy
but almost is nvr enough

the world is white at its edges
bathed in stolen light
carried to anxiety by a fake god
its heatless words
dying in its throat