inject me with every insecurity
deny me my foresight
scoop my eye sockets dry
with silver spoons from childhood plight
turn the corners of my mouth upward with pins
in stifling approvable of your apathy
rip my teeth from root so i cannot express
grief and wild unrest
burn me of my tongue
make it so i struggle to say your name
twist and mangle my wrists
bend my fingers back
(one, two, three)
listen to the splintering bone
the intoxicating frailty
listen like your favorite song
the fading circulation in hi-fi stereo (on repeat)
bend my back for you
turn away as my spine snaps
under weight from mild neglect
unravel my nerves
string them like a guitar
play me a discord
cut me open with sharp words
and leave me exposed
slide my discs
until i’m weak in the knees
string me up by my ankles
and sever my feet to gain inches on me
peel back my skin
bind my veins
tether them to floor boards and ideas of leaving me
watch as the desperation seeps from me
tangle my hair and pull it back
like weighty curtains from my skull cap
crack me open
unspool my brains
re-wire my circuitry
introduce color then reverse it back
blow your breath into my ear
let it circle and suffocate me
will me not to feel
it will only complicate me
pull the desperation from the air
my fixed, heavy rain cloud
drape me with uncertainty
cover me in soot and paint me a burden
set me on fire
leave a thought
let it continue to escape me
you dot your “i’s” with crippling intensity
dripping in heartfelt symphonies
my velveteen,
you are a looming aftertaste
a foundation
a voracious hunger
to set roots deep within bone

I stayed up until 2 am.
I was a little bit high and my hands were itching to write, I was able to finish one of my drafts out
of boredom.
I read it again and again.
Lost in transition,
indefinite blues.
As far as I remember,
the things
you want to say
in a form of simple
words and with
a passive conviction
can mean so much
more without any
fancy borders which
sole purpose is
just for attraction
because all the decorations
does is spoil the point and the
rest is a trend and then history.

Why can't I get someone to
get it even though
it's not my business?
Whenever I get an
approvable on point
it gives me hope
which translates:
not only I feel like ****
because of this stinking world
and how the society
adapted to it
and me dragged along,
of course
like a man in
the middle of a stormy sea.
I'm tired of it all. . .
the figures of speech
and how I can't use it
properly. .
the never ending debts. .
the omniscient monthly bills. .
the same old
******* thing ever since
I graduated. .

. .but my motivation
is, today's my Thursday.