He gave in again to savor some silver shrouded sin, and so the night was called in to begin her slow descent into the openings of his skin.

There are a limitless number of ways to escape when you're walking towards oncoming cars on a busy interstate

I can smell
the soft floral remanence
of blue hyacinths in bloom.
The smell lingers everywhere.
It reminds me of you.
How you always smelled
so sweet,
like you'd just had a bath
with fresh lavender,
and rose petals swimming
all around you,
gathering at your feet.
I miss that smell,
almost as much as I miss you.
It's been a long time
since I've thought about you.
I've pushed you from my mind,
from my scarred up heart.
It's better that way,
keeping those memories
locked up inside me.
It took a long time
to stitch together
the pieces,
after you so carelessly
ripped my heart apart.
I'll always resent you for that.
I'll always love you for it too,
and whenever those hyacinths
are in full bloom
outside my window
I'll think of you,
of how much I loved you,
and for just a moment
I'll feel a touch
of the hyacinth blues.

You were my try at a less than literal suicide,  a metaphorical mutilation of self, an imaginary imprisonment in someone else's hell.

When I'm high it's not that I'm less sad-- I just feel the sadness in a different way... and somehow that helps.

bodies are galaxies;
and within ours
constellations
go all rogue in seconds,
talking to each other
without
permission and consent;
without our knowledge;
there is a plot
behind our backs,
a conspiracy
of unexplored possibilities;
and like plastic dolls
at the hands of gods
we are drawn so close,
a clash ensues
of comfort zones
with the aid of gravity;
we'll regain control,
of course,
just before impact

Abandon work, buy two cigarette packs, and smoke every one as if kissing death will make it love you back

she has learned to breathe,
and learned to survive ,
but her good days
are yet to arrive.