when you agonized over bed sheets and bedpans,

the drip of the IV and the trip of your heartbeat,

the messages (or lack thereof) that you received and the faces you had to greet,

the sweet, un-soothing words of sorrow spoken over your head,

what did you believe heaven would be?

did the crusted blood on your stitches burst forward like coral?

and your bruises, did they blossom into crocuses -

the violent violet of careless injections and the yellow-green of chemotherapy nausea?

what about your articulate thoughts, the ones under your sunken skull?

surely they went out the window only to perform sun dance amidst

the snowdrops at the end of your winter.

when you agonized over your will and your will to fight,

the house-turned-mausoleum and the North-less children,

what did you believe heaven would be?

the sickness
is returning.
i didnt infect myself this time though
you passed it to me
through your fistfuls of my hair
through the "i love you's"
all the contradicting lies
my body became weak
and you took hold
of something you knew i had no control

there isnt a cure for this one.

you drink from your tall glasses, a toast to lives you barely touched.

we do not care for the river of words that rush from your mouth.

we have no use for eulogies underground.

only what you sow you can reap, your nothingness begets nothingness.

we who lay among the roots

do not see the cyanotype sky behind your rouged liquors.

we look below for asphodels to sate a hunger that has no pulse or palate.

Lethe consumes our memories from seeping water.

we talk to shadows without light. we do not bear the stains of summer.

there is no loss when there's nothing to keep.

we who lay among roots

know who we are when separated from you.

your draughts of grenadine are no more than a euphemism

for how we breathe the crimson seeds that keep us under.

=</>~&#$!(^)%-'@+

Think                                             ­  h
                    Th   ink                        e
   Ov ert  hink                                  l
                    ­                                      p
   . . ...                                                

Psygopath m i  n    d                      m
                                ­                          e
   . ... .
                                                           i
You Didn't Just                                '
Let Me                                              m

be            ­                                          d
                     ­                                     y
Torn Like                                         i
                                                          n
   T                                                     g
h
                a
          t
...

I'm S low ly
  S
     u
f
f
   o
c
  a
t
  i
n
   g

=</>~*&#$!(^*)%-'@+

(glory under silence is pointless,
don’t puff out your chest, come alive,
use a vest, fire back)
Poetry intended to be written over Heaven,
but it’s everlasting in Hell.
Eternity to eternity.
Shadows without a face, nevermind, if I left
tell your friends, natural causes is a
serial killer.
Discolouring of magic, paganism,
it ain’t even easter.
Scene one, coming out crying, not on
the stage, I found myself at a table,
with divas & bunnys, with their dealers,
pimps & bankers,
I’m on the guest list, giving me bourbon
& *****, cause it’s how they wanted.
Mortal wrenching,
easy to commit to vice than to virtue.
Wordless language in both morals & evil.
The ones who
can transcend, their soul
is waged over.
(I’m cliche, cause I can obtain traits
from ideals, resulting in being original,
I’ve been told before that
I’m special, few had ever thought about
it, rub my tummy, get your fix, smile for me now)

I know it feels like your presence causes pain to the people
             around you
2. I know you truly believe that the world would be better
             without you
3. I know it’s petrifying to be alive when you thought you
             would be dead
4. I know the shame
5. I know the scars no one will ever see are much worse than
             the ones they will
6. I know the feeling will never really go away
7. I know you don’t want people to know because it will hurt
            them
8. I know people don’t get it
9. I know it ***** not having hope
10. I know it seems like it can never get better