Not flowers but
All the
Cracks
At the very edge of petals
Where the watercolour bleeds away
And starts to rot
Sweetly
- That's what I am

I don't know how long I can pretend that I'm not rotting from the inside out.

I use a giant silver spoon to carve it out, pretend its ice cream, pretend its happiness, pretend its temporary. Every time I scoop, I'm closer to the bottom of the pint; but what's there at the bottom?

I look fine in your periphery, so what's there to worry?

I'm not bad at pretending, I'm just bad at being un-ugly.

let me place my finger on the dot
let me bring out the heart that you shot
let me visit the soul that does rot
let me remember the arguments we fought
let me remind you that you speak and feel like a robot
let me let you remember the lessons i taught

As a society, we're all so scared of dying
My own body cannot survive when theories begin applying
But the concept of death
Shows one's last breath
Six feet under
Makes me wonder,
What is so frightening?
The situation only becomes more heightening,
The unwanted feeling of leaving,
Causes someone to start grieving.
Five stages too long
I definitely am not that strong,
Will I ever get through it?
Through all this ****?
Before I commence a dying fit?
Maybe, maybe not
For now, my soul will rot
Until I receive a solution
And die from attribution.

a sound, a simple movement of the hands
to make sure that every morsel lands.
trash can opens yet again
over and over.

everything useless goes
to a place no one knows.
leftovers leave our palms,
heading away with the rest.

left to get cold and rot
to which we think not.
the satisfaction in the thought
that it is gone and in other hands.

toys that no longer speak
left to die in the wreak.
no longer wanted by those
who once called them family.

leftovers and toys thrown away
are left to find their own way.

those who discard
are have this to regard.
they too become the trash,
forgotten in the waste,
the filth created by others.

we all lay to rot
this we know a lot.
on our own
by those that said
they loved us.

My momma threw me to
the curb like she had a
wanting to stomp me
         American history
                         X
                             style
to much of her wrong type
of love made her corrosive
                                          in my life.
Telling truths of what her definition
of love was, a gunshot bleeding
every time she let of verbal shots.
But I wasn't the fever that collected
within the palpitations of her heart.
That point which was quenched
                    by the point of her rage
every time she was coming
                                      down to earth
like she fell from orbit.
But I wasn't a footstep in her failing,
I was a shadow leaving her behind...
Sometimes you have to leave
                  that which you love..
to make you stronger.
If their there when you return
you know they were willing to change.
                  And if not,
you just visit there quiet place
and tell them you always loved them.

To survive sometimes we wonder alone,
      not to be suffocated by the rot of
       another's love,
she curb stomped my love, but I love her though..

Incroch on the nest of
              My giving and I will
collect your bones
     and soil upon them.

For where there is grace
    There is also the seathing
Retribution of my thoughts
      And I will bury you unmarked.

I've seen to it to be left about,
a coursing, hushing let down.
To prove to you I leave rot out,
I see what's best about my withering brown.

A coursing, hushing let down-
take this as seriously as I say I do.
I see what's best about my withering brown.
My equinox benefits only you.

Take this as seriously as I say I do.
I'll come back and fall to fruit,
(my equinox only benefits you)
when warm tides cause seeds to root.

I'll come back and fall to fruit,
so see it to be left about.
A warm tide caused seeds to root,
I prove it and leave the rot out.

I am afraid.

My inner demons are taking control like never before.

I feel how the darkness makes me rot from inside.

The stench from my walking corpse.

I am so afraid.

I feel how they're winning the last battle.

The person I was is dying, beyond saving.

There's no turning back, I'm a living dead.