what was i supposed to be?
imploded stardust, floating aimlessly across
the universe expanding, never minding
cruelty escaping, dissipating,
evaporating,
but i can't be nothing if i was something,
laws of conservation of energy rejecting
my lack of preservation.

i want liquid gold inside my veins,
ruptured mind, kaleidoscope bones
creaking in the night.

i'm lost, florescent daylight  
cold and grim, fabricated and burning my retinas
an eight hour parable trying, to stay afloat
but coming home and wishing dark behind
eyelids; burnt.

what was i supposed to be?
sunshine reflected on flowers
warm and liquid, amber in the windows
dripping, pain immersed in honey
making the best out of a leak flowing
endlessly through the tap,
my kitchen sink old but practical.

i was supposed to be me,
whatever that may be.

I carry a demon on my back named Anxiety. He whispers whenever I feel serenity and shouts when hell breaks loose in my world. He gnaws on my flesh and devours my bones; his viscous fangs are my gloomiest thoughts. I stare at the four walls in my room to forget my injuries, but I am still bleeding.

And even if an entire crowd were to witness me and worship me, they wouldn't catch a glimpse of him as he bends and breaks my will to his twisted ways. No one will be my shield; no one will be my spear. I shiver and shudder but it never meets their eyes.

I am battered, broken, and breathless, as his army marches down the ruins of my haven. I hide it all underneath a composed demeanor, but it's just a farce on the verge of falling.

Sleep is my only escape, but even then he lingers in the darkest corners of my neurons. I am smothered by his hands, till my day and face turn blue, and I try to cry out but it's just me and the same four walls.

Did you miss the WET PAINT sign?
I can tell.
You're covered with the red of my rage
and the blue of my depression.
Some say purple is a royal color.
Too bad the sticky yellow of cowardice
seals your lips.
But the green envy of your eyes tells me
everything I need to know.
Orange you glad that soon these muddled
colors will merge?
And maybe, in the sludgy gray, you'll find me.

A dose of 30 paracetamol
And lithium to help keep sane
You lie in a bed with drips
Vomiting out your pain

The veins on your arm stick out
Blue against dark red scars
There are bags under your eyes
Black like a sky of stars

I hold on to your thin arms
And I hope it doesn't hurt
"Don't hurt yourself again"
But my words are lost in your shirt

You're home sometimes, or not
A long, long stay away
I miss you when you're gone
And you missed my birthday.

i wanted to know the moon
every crater, every imperfection, every mark
so hollow and white
yet filled with days of experience
i became envious one night
of her need to be so far away but
see everything, still.
how she could never get bored, exist
only as a symbol and as a light source
and be

nothing
more.

roses' petals kept him,
                twirled him inside white throws,
         blanketed him in relief
and then sealed him up.
they painted him in pollen,
they walked him with stamens,
and he never looked up, either,
because his roses filled him.
they throbbed thorns beneath him
      that never struck him,
          and he never snuck down, either,
              because he had roses to swaddle him.
                     his roses kept him.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^'