Our minds are so morbidly scary
In bouts of silence and dark
That we can imagine death, destruction, blood, A SPARK.

Knives cutting holes in our paper-thin skin,
Kids throwing rocks till their brains turn pulpy,
Bridges rocking and creaking, skin hitting ice,
Smashing our souls on concrete..

It cures a hidden desire, worse than lust or need or want.

And on that note:
The world is turning
And with it, morbid minds.

I took a week off
to draw maps
on your legs,
so that whenever
I felt like leaving,
I'd remember
why to stay.

the present world
can pull you back in time -
sometimes a gentle pull,
sometimes a hard yank
to remind you of the past.

you take a trip
to meet your past self.
you watch her love,
grow, make mistakes -
she and you are one.

then you take a deep breath,
whispering a farewell
to your past self.
you walk through time,
returning to the present.