burn down every word for me
better make it a brand
So I can wear my lies on my skin and kick myself to just ******* look within
make it a testament to the life I wish I had and the one
my parents fought to give to me
I'll always be empty
ruminating on the things that fill me with envy

I looked in the glass and the glass looked back,
then I slipped on a crack and whack.
ended up on my back
looking to the stars - no, to my right
and there is the thing which does delight
in hurting me so, making me feel weak
like the demons inside are the wolf and the real me is the sheep

to be small, to disappear into nothing
if I even got a call from my Brother, that'd be something
I tell myself what to do and I fall into this void
but the void likes me back, and I like this void

it wraps its claws around me and pulls my throat back
the feelings inside that stay stuffed down are unpacked
You can push them down, deny this existence
just know you feeling crazy? It's simply the exigence

The void forces me to look into the glass and crave a change,
The things is... I've already changed my name
my ways of speech and the things I say,
this growth feels less like growth and more like the void wants me to stay.

It felt like a dream that
Melted down from somewhere
An odd machination with a bouquet at the end and a collector of sea glass
who more so could recite or recall but never obtain
With my mouth wired shut in this way, I can only hope I can produce the sounds that make you sing
when you sing the clouds rumble and strike, that old connection between Earth and Man.
Lighting the wildfires and forgotten solipsism I once held along my most private lines
Isn’t funny how the people without proper assurance tend to be the most
Loquacious,
Ha.
Lucky for you, days swish off like paper from a book I’ve sat at crumpling too many times for too many days.
I’m not too sure I’ll ever really know what I’m doing here
may you never know
that this ship once lacked a full crew, bodies had fallen over to give themselves to the sea
Kelp and widgeon grass found a home in their hearts, ears and lungs
In truth, they all know
that was when the ship was strong enough to never sink

she hears the blossoming explosion of the
fragments
buzzing with faint, low light
dispersing like fowl taking flight
but a reckless song is no match
for a beautiful funeral pyre

what they don't tell you is that words are weaponry
arrows that pierce the soft muscle
they are also the great
healer.
the wet rag on a hot forehead
the little girl dancing in the kitchen to
soft ballet.

it's three in the morning,
we don't call it that
we call it,
"not being lonely."
we have this funny
little way of
calling things a prettier name to make them seem better

just so you know.
I had to walk home alone
last night, drunk off of some dumb *** and coke and high
from hitting this Girl's bubbler and blowing the smoke through her window.

My body tensed up as I happened upon it.
They call it the **** tunnel
so it already absolutely did not
have a pretty name.
The bird flying around in my chest probably would have been
just as manic
if it was just the **** tunnel I was passing through
and not
where the fight took place.

I took that pride back.
I went and yanked it out of the ground it was rotting in, when I walked through and allowed myself to feel sad.
Now, it's not some tunnel where **** is implied because of its countenance.
It's not even a place where we once fought, anymore.
no
I've scared that all away
and now all I have is the memory of you sitting there on the
con
crete
ground.

Steel toe shoes kicking through the walk way
a jig happening
vivacious sort of rhythm accompanying the ability
to change
the
world

What do you see?

A door, three of them
There are different people behind each
one

Which door do you choose?