and all these gods are in one place
conspiring and -
all your efforts are misplaced
whining like an -
off-key note in a seraphic choir
lamenting a -
weekend's bitter aftertaste.

here's a thing you can't avoid:
a war of worlds on a bedroom floor
the house is kept unlocked at night
and a crosswind billows through the door.

...and all his questions are ignored
he chipped his teeth cause he was bored.

we wrote missives to a shallow grave
dug with musicals we rearranged
to fit the arc we fashioned here
as we waltzed atop the sinking pier.

...I am prone to switching off
So I will never turn you on.

My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.

It was a long day for me, for her
I helped her walk and told her how tired I was-
Yet she did not respond
For she was as tired as me.
And I controlled her Body
Every moment
Every movement
Every sound that echoed around me
Every sight she sees through her Eyes.

I carried her to bed, her Legs dragging her away
Her Hands ripped off the school uniform
And replaced it with a Nirvana shirt
And blue shorts

She threw her Body onto the bed and lay there,
Her Eyes watched the ceiling as if something was about to happen
Her Lips let out a sigh and she took her phone
And her Fingers and I got ready for what she was about to type today

i feel trapped
kind of like rapunzel
but this is my choice
i choose to not leave my room
not because i like staying in my room all day
without any food
or human interaction
but thats exactly it
i would rather starve and cry in my room all day
than go downstairs
to see her face
in my moms house
in my moms kitchen

id rather cry
in my room
alone
staring at my grey and burgundy walls
than see her
ever

id rather starve
in my room
than go see my dad treat her better
than he ever treated my mom
id rather be alone in my room
than see him erase my mom from the house
by painting the walls a different colour
by misplacing things in the cupboards permanently
by taking down all of her photos
by putting in new furniture to us that is familiar with that one

id rather go unheard
in my room
in my house
while my head implodes

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

why do I get this feeling
that maybe there's still something there
but I also get a vibe from you
that you don't want anything
I'm so confused
can you please just be straight up with me
and not leave me feeling confused?