Thy mere soul and thy paint.
Forced to relentlessly battle.
Yet, not quite sure when; nor where to strike;  regardless of such, thou need not bow beneath thy sworn enemy like a coward in the night.  
Thy must remember that with time thy vessel shall grow to be rather faint.
Tis upon the beginning of the end, that thy brittle bones shalt rattle...
Whilst sorrowful eyes lose sight.
Now blind, beaten, and battered.
Hopelessly lost between what once was and all that has yet to come.
There be not a **** thing more mournful than thee, thy own soul withering away like a departing flower in may.
Thy trudged onward despite thy heart being shattered as well as scattered.
'Twas in that dreadful hour that thy feelings perished and thy had begun to grow numb.
What a remarkable day is to be rotting to the core like a corpse left to decay.

dumb wind blows away
all the words smart people say
progress is decay

If I were like air then I'd breathe you.
As I sit in the the bowl and observe.
I'd never succeed in the quest that I'm freed.
I'll rot though, if I had the nerve.

Just take me and pick as I ripen.
Bite me, as nectar escapes to your chin.
Enraptured by spell to entice you again.
And feast on sweet secrets within.

But leave me and pass with your ignorance.
Overlooked as I signal my true end of days.
For I will repay you with sorrow.
As my beauty fades, waving farewell decays.

Haven't set up an alter
In I dont' how many moons
The few times I tried
I truly knew the futility of it
And understood
That security, for me, is fleeting


Just another thing
That seems so easy for the others
Oh no dont applaud
My  baby brain  for its
Whining,ll just make it worse
So the other day after
I snatched the sage you left
For me outside your window sill
(Thank you btw)


I instinctively started
Making YET ANOTHER ALTER
Then broke down for the 5th time that day
"How could someone like you ever deserve a home"
Then I had remembered  
That Im not allowed to
Have a safe space

I'm a drifter
Pushing the limits
My health is at risk
Every minute
No one to care
Whether I die or live  

Sitting on my hands
In a thicket
Praying wishing waiting thanking
God that I woke still broken
Throwing up stuff
Everytime I tried to move

Hunger
Hurt
Thirst
Hate
Anger
Thankful
Stay low
on your toes
Heatstroke
Dryheave
Please No
Please make it stop
Oh god here it comes again
My Sweat drips endlessly
Chiggers bit my skin
So it wont quit itchin'

Bites that bother until next week
Typical....
All I want is a place to hang my hat
Or hopefully lay my head without trip wires surrounding
Me
All I want is to oggle my alter and call on my angels and my God
Without being on constant alert
Watching my own six

Bc your own brother will turn on you
Don't get comfortable
Dont relax
Dont unpack
Dont believe
A ******* thing they tell you
Prove me wrong then

Haven't had a mfr not turn
Haven't seen anyone actually keep their word

And why cant i set up an alter without it being destroyed?

a stranger points to a smoke sign and asks if i smoke; i say no
now that stranger is a friend and my no is a sometimes
and i wonder if it was a warning when he said that smoking was bad.

had i known, i would have answered the anxiety is worse and the cancer can't really **** me when i already feel dead inside.
instead, i waved him off with a laugh that meant "i know. isn't it obvious?"

...

the rot caught up to me two years later, outside the same bar where i'd pestered another friend into putting down a box.
it was a betrayal then, when i brought the sick to my lips and inhaled the poison.
it was a betrayal again when he found out.

i tried to appease the scolding,
argue that i've stopped smoking.
would it be a betrayal now to say
"i still think of rot and decay"?

Life has always been about the decaying permutation of possibility.

When you are young, the infinite paths sing with endless potentials.

These branches are primed with the indifferent hands of time.

Choice still exist, as it always has, yet the narrowing is haunting.

It is that inevitability is that hangs around in ominous fog.

Approaching that finality is a journey of bittersweet grace.

Decomposing flesh somewhere secret
Where ribs have become a latter
For the wild roses to climb
Accompanied by the ivy vines
Baby's breath and aromatic thyme

No soil covering like that of a duvet
Fully exposed yellow green and gray
Sun-dried freshly plucked from life
Crown of flowers sitting crooked
Lips curved as if they were smirking

Because I made you promise me
When oxygen escaped me forever
To drape me amongst the fauna
In the exact location that you whispered
"I wish you were ******* dead"

I am crying
Crying out in pain
This suffering I feel
There is no cure
I am not heard
I am screaming
Begging for help
Yet I am alone
Writhing
My bones are sore
My mind is at its tether
What can I do?

Maybe I am dying
We all are
A little bit everyday
But this pain
I am dying a little more
What will it be?
What will cause my end?
My body or my mind
Decaying
Both are weak
I cannot remember
Ever being strong.