dying young seems like a dream
i dont want to wake up
im sober in my high
in the end it means i cant escape
the reality of the situation is crushing
i split my hands open and there was nothing there
maybe i was holding on to something before this
im not the type to remember anyways
i was walking next to you but i forgot your face
and i still hear your voice
as we become faded in each others memories
i cant help but become someone new
but its still the same me regardless
to have love and been loved is to know grief
all things come to an end
maybe thats why we obsess with the limit
even life comes to an end i assume
im sad because i still love you
my humanity leaves me as i fade to monstrosity
i dont feel like myself anymore
i look in the mirror
the mirror looks at me

Surmise too often, likely a sheer redundancy, unduly supposition went south I'd slump it from high.
Curious? I'd throw down the gauntlet; fathom me out throughout the time of hesitation.

I watch her watch herself,
pale, slender fingers pressed against her flat stomach.
She gives an uncertain sigh as she turns this way and that,
twirling a lock of hair in her pale, slender fingers
and trying to look disinterested in her own reflection.

She reaches into a tiny purse, eventually,
and pulls out a tube of mascara.
Her eyes widen to marbles as she teeters close to the mirror,
applying her armor stroke
by stroke
by stroke.

She knows that I am watching her now (I wobble hazily in the mirror),
so I look away for a moment,
and by the time my eyes dart back to hers, her eyelashes flutter pitch black
Like ink spilling from a fountain pen.

I can tell she’s still looking at her stomach
And she can tell I’m still looking at her,
so she murmurs something like acknowledgement
and brushes past me.
Watching her walk away feels wrong, so I look down at my hands instead,
red and pruny
from the hot water seeping down the drain.

an accidental intimacy is committed
between the right-now me
and the me-a-few-minutes-ago
as i slip onto my body,
(made cold by the air of the room,)
the warmest shirt i have ever felt,
soft and hot with the heat of
my own body
that i had already forgotten.

two me's converge, here.
i wrap my arms around myself.

i forgive my old self for all he has done to me
yesterday
because look what he would do for me
today,
he would keep himself warm
so that one day he would be cold
so that one day i could pick this hot shirt up
and wear it.

we waltz, we dance,
until the heat calms under the fan,
and then we are just one man
and i catch myself missing him.

a bright moon lights up the room
soft linen comforting curiosity
ethereal melodies navigating forward
eyes recognizing constellations
connections beyond reality
towards everlasting ideas
then once those eyes close
those ideas will light the way

I wake up at morning light
with no more will left to fight
I look in the mirror at a face
I've never been able to embrace
I told my self yesterday, todays a new day
but always knew that was a cliche
I don't want pain, I want to be better
but night comes and then I surrender

a hit here and a hit there
a sip here and a sip there

maybe this hole is deeper than I remember

I love myself in a toxic way
but I still love myself
right?

thousands of wasps
swirl around me
in a painful display.

I sting myself with insecurities.

hundreds of rats
drop from above
in a torrent of decay.

I plague myself with insecurities.

packs of wolves
dance around the stars
gnawing rabid at my flesh.

I rend myself with insecurities.

gargantuan paws dig
away at the dirt that
I was made of.

I bury myself in insecurities.

ursine hunger rips
and tears into
a still beating heart.

I starve myself with insecurities.

frost wrecked skies
crack above me
and fall sharp into
a dancing mind.

I wish for honey,
but I sting myself
instead.

I don't deserve anything else.