The rain that's been falling for the past 17 hours
would look good dripping from your shoulders.
It would pool at the edges of your hands,
right past the calluses you have from
seducing the frets, that could just as easily
****** me.
It wouldn't take much, just a condensed
exchange of skin cells and oxygen,
opposed to the usual
phone number.
The numerical value would be much less
than the value of sharing the borrowed space
of the room
anyways.
Maybe one day we'll open up like
the clouds and create something that
drips from the edges of our minds
instead of our hands
and ****** the storm raging within us
along with the frets.

Deceived to think I was living in heaven when it merely turned out to be hell
Discovered the devil had made a home of you, planting seeds in your darkest places
Who knew those seeds would grow into trees and root themselves deep within your veins  branching out towards everyone around you
I remember a time your knuckles implanted the seeds in me while your neglect of 3 words helped them to grow.
I tried for so long to get the seeds out, plowing my skin with a razor
Desperately trying to unearth them from my veins
But these seeds aren't going anywhere, they've made a garden out of me and they'll grow out of my bones when I finally dig to deep

She told you she was sad and you told her she was the sun. Warm rays penetrating your skin making you feel happy and free, but when the sun stopped shinning so did you

She told you she stopped eating and you told her she was a flower. Unique and beautiful in the most imperfect way, but when the flower wilted away so did you

She told you she cut and you told her she was a river. Winding and twisting creating deep cannons all over the earth, but when her rivers over flooded you drowned in them

She told you in her note she was sorry and you wanted to tell her she was the sunset. Breath taking and colorful, never being able to see her true beauty, but this time the sun set and never rose again.

Upon the stale wind, her body flails again
I came walking through the field
to learn about compassion
She was blonde and the last heart in town
The moon bathed her from within
What a loveless dream from that tree
touching God's skin.

Her feet above my head, painted in mud and above the sugarcane
And if I didn't love her so, I'd be able to walk from this pain
But I recall her warm breath the last time we kissed
The air tasted of a broken soul that I failed to fix

Blood under her nails, scratching freedom too slow
If she was yelling for my name, then I'd rather not know
It might as well been me who hung her above the stars
I did not give her enough of me and it will haunt me for years

there was something about those nights
i laid illuminated
by the light of my phone
and the light of her
with the blankets as drawn out
as the silence between rooms

i thought about the little moons
and craters that lay within her eyes
and the constellations that ran
across her lips and down
the deepest crevices
of her neck
like a marathon

i want to go to space
but not the one that floats
above the ceiling
or even below it
but the one that lies within her
and within me

Seriously ****** up in the mental
Dreaming to see my grave
These scars on my skin weren't accidental
Sadness comes in waves

Drowning in my own thoughts
Submerged in voices that aren't my own
My mind is tangled in knots
Deeper under the waves I'm thrown

Extremely messed up in the brain
Wishing to lay 6ft underground
All the life in me has been drained
I'm not going to wait and hang around

I'll take a boat, plane, even a car
As long as it takes me far away
A gun, rope or pills in a jar
In my mind I'm not about to stay

Immensely ******* up in my head  
Where did I go so wrong
All I want is to just be dead
You were right all along

I'm beyond the point of relief
For me the world has gone dull
So don't you dare give me grief
I'm caught up in my skull

it's your own fault boy
you fell for (or didn't fall for) a writer
a poet, at that
and what you have done
and said
or have not done
and didn't quite say
will not just be ink stains on a single page in our book of life
but rather tattooed pages
of war stories and statistics for others to learn and compare
silly boy,
you fell for a poet
and now you're permanent
memorization becomes easier if you write it down
this is true of spelling words
history facts
and every dagger to the heart

we sat on my roof, listening to Frankie Cosmos and sipping tea
"this is going to be our year" you promise, the January snowflakes landing on your lashes and i smiled because i believed you
i believed you
i believed you
i believed you
i believed you