"Everything is funny
when you realize nothing
actually matters at all.”

So I’ll laugh as I
plunge my fingers
down my throat,

cut my veins open;
bleed myself dry,

a hollowed out
tree is the closest
I’ve ever been to

happy

and if nothing matters,
do I have any reason
to wish for better days?

- S.G.

I am
Spiraling,  
        spiraling,
spiraling

         d
           o
             w
               n,

and I can’t
find one thing
to grasp onto,

not the
smallest little
bit of hope to
cling to,

the ember
burning bright
at the end of my
cigarette does
not make up
for the sunlight
I’ve been lacking,

and the words
stuck on repeat
in my head, like
a skipping vinyl,

every living
          thing dies,
      every living thing
dies, every living
     thing dies, and soon
                     you will too,

do not mourn
over loss of
perspective
while you still
have hold of it,

do not mourn
for the emptiness
you will no longer feel,

do not mourn
for Heaven,
and do not
mourn for Hell,

just be happy
          it all ends.

- S.G.

I am not your rock,
your place of solace,
and I cannot give you
structure in these
empty words

My own life is
cracking at it’s
foundation
and I’ve lost
the architects
phone number

You have to
find foundation
in yourself

because odds are
your handyman,
isn’t on-call for only you

and when the
wind comes,
and the rain pours
you’ll be stuck
with leaky ceiling tiles
and a draft that will
chill you to the bone

- S.G.

I wasn’t looking
for God, but I
found the Devil,

He slid his
hands up my
skirt, rosary
beads and
all, breathing
skewed
bible verses
into my ******
ears like Mary,

The only tongue
he spoke in
was the one
he was sliding
down my throat,
forked and
snakelike,

He told me,
"Your absence
of faith is pleasing
though incorrect,
you see, just as
seeing doesn’t
mean believing,
rejecting something
doesn’t rob it of
it’s existence.
That means your
sin still counts.”

And I will burn in Hell,
just like everyone else.

- S.G.

I love you like you are the last breath I’ll ever take,
breathing you in fully; your everything turned to particles in my lungs, growing
cancerous tumors in my chest where there may as well be a sign hanging,
between my *******, ‘Yours, all yours’ because there will never be
another that can poison me and make me whole the way that you do.

- S.G.

kiss me deeply,
use the rhythm
of your hips to
tell me you love me
without words,

let me do all
the talking, only
when I write
about the heat
of your breath
on my neck,

the grip of
your hands
on my hips,

the overwhelming
thrill when I feel
your weight
on top of me,

because when
words fail, all I
need is your
body language.

- S.G.