i want to kiss you underwater
in an aquarium
while strangers admire us
from their captivity

i want you to be the only thing
keeping me alive

i want to taste your stale
exhalation of whisky breath
and you
can have all my spent cigarettes

i want to drown
with you grasping at my abdomen
digging into my chest cavity

i want to give up
all my oxygen and watch you
ascend into refracting light

firstly,
find everything
that ever scared you
collect them all together into a group
get yourself a bigass stage
stand on it right in front of them
and tell them
to *******

secondly,
pull all the memories that try to choke you
that try to drown you
like the mean hand
of that girl that used to bully you
and hold your head under the water
till your lungs hurt...
pull all those memories out
hang them on a clothes line
until they are dry
and so crisp
that you can crunch them
in your hand
and remember to laugh
as you do so
because once they were frightening
but now they are
floating away from your fist

and lastly
seek out your greatest fear
and force yourself to sit with it
until you have befriended it
he will be
your greatest
ally
he will teach you
how not to be
afraid

if you can make peace
you will always have it
like the funky necklace made out of beads
you made with your cousin

if you do these things
someday you will be
not afraid
of anything
but i wouldn't know
i can't even get past
step one

The day you have to die
I hope you realize
Your life was the best part of mine

They say it's hope that gets us through,
it's hope that keeps the heart beating
and dreams dreaming. But
what they forgot to tell us
is that hope also sets us up
for disappointment, anger, failure, pain,
relapse.
It plays a sly little game,
dealing a hand of wild cards and
wearing a poker face of a thousand
different personalities.
Call, pass, or fold? The outcome is uncertain, yes, but
with only a few penny chips left, it's best to fold.
Because it doesn't make sense to have hope
when hope doesn't even have you.

as we laid there
in the false light from the ceiling
I felt the need to ask you
how there came to be
two oceans on your face
above a smile when parted
let out pieces of your mind that
I tried to catch
how, in fact, did I come to know
you under those black-rimmed glasses
under a once impenetrable wall
of stone and ivy
how can I drink in
every decibel of your laughter
while knowing I will never drink
from your mouth