strange places I visit in dreams
complex structures
don't make sense

tied to familial lineage
ownership, inheritance, & secrets unknown

deepening fears unresolved

driving on an empty tank, without gas
how much time do i have to pass

itching skin
the tender areas of my heart lay untethered — released

I hope you return my query — my shot in the dark

it's been so lonely without the sparks
of our love — the promises broken,
shattered and left on the floor.

Is it my turn to sweep up the remains?
Or will the pieces just stay the same.

We said goodbye to ruins called home.
how much time did we spend filling in cracks —
the space in between shifts like tectonic plates.
Am I an eruption of pain and heartache,
or am I interrupting the slow and natural flow?

Alone I stay, sans reply, where are you love with your alibi?

So much time spent missing you,
so much time dedicated to the form you knew —
who you thought I was — no someone new.

He said he would solve my problems,
Claimed to harbor the cure,
But once I had him cornered,
I found his words were only a lure.

I can't write
I actually physically can't
OK
OK how about, something with flowers
Not like that's been done 1000000000 times
I swear to god anymore similes and I will

punch

my

own

esophagus

This is terrible
OK ummm
Fish tanks?
Fish tanks aren't all that poetic
I can't think of anything
I think I'm dried up
Like an empty...
Fish tank
******
Wait a minute
What if I just write something about
Not knowing what to write
That would be easy
It also explains why this *****
******

Looks like somebody's got a case of
Something sinister, with not a trace of
That weekend high, like you just erased it
And filled up on Monday's existential dread

Nah, no way it's all just in your head
From the moment you dragged yourself out of bed
Leaving dreams behind, choosing real world instead
To face up to Monday's lack of appeal

No, I proclaim, this syndrome is real
It's something that some weeks all of us feel
As weekly the world attempts to steal
Our joy and our souls with its Mondays

Walked through a field full of llamas
Wooly babies, papas, and mamas
But these llamas were purists
And spat on this tourist
Turning excitement to trauma

hungry, i breathe into the veins of your neck
and with my tongue, i taste your flesh.
hot breath stains your skin,
as i run my hands over your porcelain body.
hungry, i tear into you.
as you moan for more,
i know that i have won.
you will be begging
and i will be leaving.

my torso feels uninhabited. i don't know at what point at the beach it began, but it's here now, and here it will stay. i've been disgusted before. i've been loatheful, philanthropic, remorseful, tired, elated, and sad. it's now magnified ten fold, beyond my ability to comprehend what i'm feeling. my hands tremble for no reason, my skin burns and my lips are cracked and i taste iron and salt. the sores inside my mouth are of my own creation. i'm nothing but a faulty sore. docility is fraudulent within me. is it automatic? is it for my own good? is it instinctual? each second scrapes across my chest like sandpaper. i feel time taking its toll on me, feel it slowly siphon away any ounce of will i retained. im hollow, requesting any exertion is disappointing on both ends.

waves crash against my steady, planted body, and i wish they would dissolve the rotting features ive grown to despise as i despise time. to melt into the sea, to crash against the feet of the suffering and give them an alternative to standing as an emptied vessel.  to take my form and the cavern of discomfort that rests alongside it. im near hysterics, just pondering the corporeal presence of my being. let me float away, let the water nip away at my flesh until im nothing.

let my body be.

god is tugging at my sleeve. the weight added to the fabric adds an urgency to my steps. im sweating now, grappling with the burdensome presence of a creator. he whines and demands my attention. he cries when i cant pick him up off the ground. he asks for task after task of menial, worthless labor until i am face first on the dirt with exhaustion. my aura has grown squeamish with anticipation of his next tantrum.  i walk on hand sharpened eggshells i myself have placed as he ordered, i live in a fortress of solitude, shame, exasperation, and fear. i retract myself from enjoyment, fulfillment, and success at the empty promises he gives to entrap me further. since birth i have upheld this responsibility. babysat my guardians. protected them from their own mistakes. leaving feels like abandoning an infant to destroy itself from the inside out. living for myself invokes nausea and confusion. how can i function without approval from the hellbeast that gave me life only to use it for his own?  growth is the only freeing process by which i can loosen his grip on the fabric of my shirt. outgrow your creator, your fractorial parent, your burden you did not choose to undertake. slowly detach from his entrapment. slowly make your life worth living again.

Silence,
beautifully cherished between soundless glances
or love locked eyes
of after sheet trances.
for you once said to me,
“silence my dear,
is not the absence of sound
but the presence of something else.”
both capable of taking me to my greatest heavens,
or paving my quiet path to hell
this fact and uncertainty both
fills me with joy
and frightens me to my very core.
for it feels as if you’ve taken my words for nothing but fairy lore.
yet, I stay mute
I’ll sew my lips shut
stuck in this purgatorial
entrenched rut-
deafened,
by the screaming silence.