to the humans with the glassy eyes,
i know they've been hurt before
(your eyes,
thrown against the wall,
like a jar filled with rotten marbles)
cauliflower-clouded mind
red-scented sleep
& i pray to God
those pills dissolve in your
sanitized hands.
don't cry when it's over; cry now
i can see milky white
stars in your eyes
and soft pink
bubble gum-flavored clouds
and lazy green rivers
and violent violet nights
and a deep howl in you
when you think you can't go on.
and you burn yourself
with empty looks
and break yourself
by lying down
and **** yourself
by forgetting that the lightning storm
ever came.
flying doesn't always set people free.
remember that.

at first we played games
like 'see who can love the other more'
now it's **** on me, i'll **** on you
and if i don't have anything worthwhile i'll drink until i can muster up just about anything devilish

never thought much to bite my tongue
but i'm somewhat starting to wish i had it removed with my tonsils last year
right before i met you
maybe it would have made more sense if i hadn't the ability to talk myself up
and make it seem like i'm a person who cares about anything

you see i've learned lately that i'm no good, when it really comes down to it
i can go through the motions and get by, but when it comes down to the most crucial moments, like when one must hold their tongue... i spit

and here I found myself
in complete radio silence.
You're the soft humming static,
the deafening silence
as soon as I close my car door.
There's a certain kind of peace here,
though what I have is emptiness;
what I have is nothing.
You're the cigarette in my fingers at 3 am,
if only I hadn't quit.
You're the portrait that I'd create in awe,
if only I knew how to draw.
You're every song and piece of poetry
that these hands will ever compose for months,
and even years,
and by the stars, sweetie,
do I know how to write.

We see things differently.
With the stars blinding my eyes,
and the color of the sky
fading from yours;
we are distant universes.