they said, "achilles, come down"
but i feel safer up here
knowing that i'm in control of my fear
up on this roof where nothing can reach me
hiding my face so no one can see me
they said, "don't fly to the sun"
but i burned up my wings
cutting my hands on all my broken things
lines of vermillion across palms, wrists, thighs
a midas touch of gold as every piece of me dies
some myths stay in your head
some legends ring true
sometimes i just want to forget about you

the frost stretches its cold hands
across the wind from foreign lands
watch your breath dissolve like smoke
in stars and moonshine and soft fading hope

the night sky is dripping, its eyes are awake
from the red sleeping fox to the quick deadly snake
the leaves are all weeping as they fall one by one
we'll pick up our messes and leave when we're done

the canary is watching, its gaze like a coal
burning straight through you, making you feel whole
there is a promise in the way it spreads its downy wings
the wind whispers around it as together they sing

the clouds are your sisters and brothers and friends
so lay your head down, angel, let's try this again
the lilacs are drowsy with the hope of tomorrow
don't cry, let the rain wash away your sorrow

in the dawn of tonight and the wake of the sun
promise me one thing when all this is done
tell me you'll come when it is my time
on the drop of a penny or the spin of a dime

leave nothing to chance, love, when all things are over
take my hand and i'll wish you a peaceful cross over
i will stand at your graveside and sing you a song
and whisper apologies all the day long.

i'm so tired but i can't sleep
so hungry but i can't eat
so restless but i wanna die
so sad but i can't cry

i'm so sick of staring at a screen
sick of no one hearing my screams
i'm so weak but i act tough
pretend that i am enough

i'm so scared of my own thoughts
scrutinizing everything i'm not
reminding me to lose some weight
the ***** leaves a bitter aftertaste

i'm so empty but i'm still here
so broken by my own fears
so hollow and i know it
so dull, but no one noticed

you start to see things a lot differently once you set an expiration date on yourself.
there's beauty in the small things; the feel of warm dirt beneath bare feet, the gentle clucking of chickens, the brush of a cat's whiskers against your cheek. you suddenly want to watch every sunrise and sunset, to count every star, to take long walks through nature. you eat what you want and no longer care what people think because it doesn't matter, you will be dead in five days and no one will remember your name.
you are now nothing but a faceless silhouette, and no one cares enough to remember the little moments but you collect them like a child collecting seashells. you treasure every glance and exchanged word and half smile sent your way. you settle for the bare minimum because that's all you have ever received and will ever receive.
you find optimism in the dark moments; you **** a mosquito only to lay beside its crumpled body and watch a tiny ant drag it away, carrying three times its weight and you are jealous. you are jealous because you can't even handle yourself, and you are not strong enough for this world, not smart enough to figure out what you're supposed to do with your silly little life. you tip your chin back to the sky and wonder if the sun ever loved the moon, if the rose ever loved the daisy, if anyone could ever love you, and you're afraid that you'll never know.
but the fear within us is all the hope we are afraid to hope for. if you are not afraid, then you have no hope, and what are you then? free to die in silence and gray ashes and dead flowers from people who stopped coming to visit you long ago?
how could the sun love the moon, how could the rose love the daisy? if we are only fit to love those within our standards, then what is love really? chosen? picked at random? or is it a passion, a longing, a scrap of a song sung to a star?
and then comes the reality, that we are finite beings, and it doesn't matter if the rose and the daisy got their happily ever after, and it doesn't matter if the sun loved the moon because the moon loves you and the stars welcome you with open arms and yet you still cower on this pathetic earth, and it begs the question,

are you afraid to fly?

i know i bite my fingernails
and i wear too many rings
i know i take too many showers
and i don't look good in jeans
i know i **** at playing guitar
and i'm far too quick to lie
i know i'm no good at counting the stars
and i'm ugly when i cry
i know there's no reason for you to love me
or even like me as a friend
but i clung onto you like a blood-******* leech
until our bitter end
i don't blame you for moving on
and i hope she makes you happy
thank you for showing me where i went wrong
in everything you hate about me.

on sunday, i gave away my guitar
and i didn't expect it to be so hard
didn't expect it to crumble my heart
to know i will never feel those strings again
close my eyes and move my hands
never tune the thing until 2 AM
nathan, please take good care of it
because i love that guitar, but i'm scared to admit
scared that you'll ask again why i quit
scared that you won't keep your promise

i have no refuge in my sleep
my dreams are no sanctuary
but waking up provides no relief.
i no longer know what to believe
and i have no refuge in my sleep.
sometimes i lie awake
terrified to slip away
other nights i let it fade to black
and beg the nightmares to take me back
in my mindscape, i see you and me
and sometimes that makes it hard to breathe
sometimes i drag myself out of dreams too deep
and wake up panting and trembling
and in the real world, i find no relief
but i have no refuge in my sleep.

i've been so sad lately that i had a dream
about someone who truly loved me for me
he was smiling down at me as we danced around slowly
and just for a moment, i didn't feel so lonely
but when i woke up, i tried to remember his name
or the feel of his hands soothing away my pain
but i couldn't even recall his face, despite my endeavors
which is a shame, cause if i could, i would've stayed there forever

i saw my sister yesterday
and considered the idea that it could be the last time
considered it when we were saying goodbye
and i hugged her maybe a little too tight
i watched the sunset yesterday
when i was driving home
and something in me said, "don't go"
"there's more to this life than you'll ever know"
i thought my mind was made up
but as my life ticks lower
and time moves slower
and i'm just not sure anymore
i think that maybe i've found
something worth waiting for
someone worth living for

i had a friend who was just like me
we convinced each other we weren't hungry
she taught me how to throw up
i taught her how to be loved
i was her one and only
stayed up all night just to keep her company
in the end, we could've made each other heal
and i clung to the idea that what we had was real
but nobody understood.
when they found out, there was screaming
yelling, and long lectures late into the night
they used her as a lesson
a way to show me i'm "not like that"
a way to convince me i'm "not that bad"
"not that sick"
"not that twisted"

last i heard, lisa is under the ground somewhere
though whether it was by drugs or a knife, i don't know
i wonder if she got a funeral
i wonder if anyone cried

six days left to live
and it's getting hard to find
anything left to give
anything left inside
there is no life in these hollow bones
no place i can call my home
i am alone
i am alone

i want to fall asleep
under a sky full of stars
out at waypoint, nobody knows where you are
nobody awake for miles around
nothing but the sweet, lulling sound
of crickets and tall grass in the breeze
and that's where i want to fall asleep
that's where i want to quietly bleed
across the gravel, head tipped to the sky one last time
and maybe this time i won't cry
maybe this time i can finally die

you with the bruised half-moons under your eyes
from nights spent staring at the ceiling-
you with the unshaved legs
because most of your time in the shower is too tired to move-
you with the messy, untamed haircut
that nobody else likes (but you like it)
you with the low grades and empty bank account
because you can't focus, can't understand-
you with the parents who laugh about war
who flaunt their freedom as if they will never be affected
you with the friends who roll their eyes over death
who say things like "they're in a better place now"

who are you?

who are you, star-child?

"i'm me, of course" she answers, confused by the question.
her hands are a fake warm hue, her hair likewise, her skin flushed and angry.
(she has heard this question before, she already knows the answer.)

and there is another voice, screaming somewhere, sobbing and begging to be released, because-
the star-child has shoved her down, has shut her in a tight box and hidden her under years of dust and neglect.
the girl in the box is all white daisies and yellow t-shirts.
she is dancing in the rain and laughing when snowflakes catch on her eyelashes.
she is unbothered by thoughts of college or war, unbothered by budgets or relationships or the future.
she is holding hands with someone faceless, someone with a white smile splitting the black void of their face.
someone faceless is pulling his hand away-
someone faceless is turning his back.

"i'm me," the star-child answers, even as frozen tears fall and shatter on her hands. "who else would i be?"

"you with the tears soaking your pillow at night," i whisper,
"you with the silent screams into darkness,
"you with the selflessness that requires no one to see you hurting,
"you with the fear that he will look back and try to save you,
"you with the knowledge that you can't be saved-"

all stars burn up and fall,
some faster than others.

"i'm-" she begins again, but there are no words to finish her sentence this time.
her throat is closed up and her eyes are watering.
her hands are gray and dull, her hair likewise, her skin bleached.
there is no color left in this fallen star.
there is no life left in this fallen star.

i don't find myself afraid of death
or of drawing my final breath
i don't want to die, yet i know i must
and pray that i am not turned to dust
and that's what scares me in the end.
the thought of eternal punishment;
or the idea that maybe there is no afterlife
and that i've been raised on yet another lie.