i built my bed to sleep in.
i dug a vat to lie in.
i shook the hands that saw me.
ill be eaten by the lions.

i am cold and out of place.
i am homeless and afraid.
i am not yours to break.
i am the shrapnel from grenades.

i know exactly where i am
i know just where i want to be
i know its not exactly here
i know no things are really free.

i will stretch out on the floor.
i will call to you for more.

i will
i will.
i wont.

i woke up to write a poem
i woke up to write a poem

maybe

i woke up to tell you
that the lips of love are soft.
that the touch of hell burns cold.

but youve heard that before and so have i.

so if

i woke up to write a poem
i woke up to write a poem

why even bother if the
words im looking for
havent made themselves
known to me.

they should be at my ribs,
knocking on the glass.
but instead they
dance like a child.
and hide like a fugitive

i find myself now, only
with less and less
to say.

but more and more
to do and i will
put it off and let it
weigh heavy on whats
left of these shoulders.

this ink is brand new
but i wish it weren't.
i hate the smell of
tension and the taste of
tearing skin from bone.

im not stupid or paranoid
but i wish i were.
i laid all the brick that
will push my ribs through
my air i was never
good at breathing
and i sure wont
learn now.

i am living a cliche life
so the words i say,
you may have heard before.

there are more than
seven billion people
on the earth today
and only one
will take a bullet
for you
if youre lucky.

i dont want to look at the
stars anymore.
the devil put them
on my ceiling
when god
came to visit.

unlike most stars
the light wont make me
whole. i am so ******* empty
in this night sky. there is
so much open space and
i would fill it all
with these anchors
if i could.

you should never
trust anybody. except the sidewalk
it is there when you need it
it has YOU in mind.

people will find one
million ways to break your heart.
maybe a million and one
if you give them enough time.

my eyes burn so easy in the
light, it is so far from who
i am it is so alien.

dont ever trust a wolf
or a *****. they only
want food when you
are hungry. drugs when you are
dying. clothes when you are
freezing. love when you are
broken.

and if you show
an inch of flesh
she will smell the blood
beneath it. it is a
shallow tide in heaven
if god is what youre after.

all of my kryptonites
have brown hair
and sure are easy to talk to
in the beginning.

i am back to my
old tricks. the circus in
my nerves is dancing
for autumn again.

thoughts of weather
lay heavy on my
temples, but i do
love the cold.

it is a constant burden
and i can relate.

war paint stains the
clothes i don.
it is old but lives on
in what comes to mind.

there was rot on
the battlefield. it is
stuck in my nose i cant
help but smell it
when i breathe.

i cant believe i
dwell in the past
like it has anything for me.

we do share a similar
sensibility and some
unfortunate similarities.

//

the best part of jumping off a bridge
is that everyone says you regret it
the second you do.

just another reminder
that we're all scared to die.