the end of all things

It happened fast like a fired gun
Bleeding out, then it was done
There was the end I couldn’t find, found too late
Let me go back, show me the eyes
So I’d really know just what it looks like…

~*~

6:53 AM // 06.02.21.

i’m searching for a somewhere-quiet place

to shout “i swear, i’m over it!”

but it’s easy to make-believe when my head’s sliced to bits

ignore the dripping flavour of pure traumatic

.

silverbacks of threats and age-old games

something that can’t be contained in a rotted shoebox

unwanted unfamiliar unexpected reappearances

exhuming the buried in refrains of “everything sucks”

.

to cry on my shoulder, to prove me wrong

retreading the same mistakes of our esoteric songs

to gloat in my jawbones, to say they were right

an anxious tarantella, let’s step on each other’s toes tonight

.

fine, i loved you, i raised myself on sliced-up veins

even as my pride falls last, i’ll always be the first to blame

fine, i hated you, only because i lowered the white flag

to cover my corpse with, there will always be shed tears and shed blood

.

to lead our battalion, to where the flowers go to die

pretty petals searching for god, exchanged ripostes clad in sunrise

to let me grieve what isn’t now, to watch who’s taking flight

changing hands faster than seasons, who will break and pretend to be alright?

.

do you know how much i’ve fucking missed you? and how i’m not allowed

to think it’s true, to wish it not, to lie when i say it aloud?

would you smile at my funeral like you always perfectly deserved?

perhaps i’ll say nothing at all just so i know i would be heard

.

i’ve searched for a somewhere-quiet place to be alone again

and i thought i’ve finally gone long enough to find it

but my ankles are dragged down with the love of your wry disdain

and i’ll always be stained with your flavour of pure traumatic.

~*~

And oh, didn’t want to believe such a monster in me
And I know, I’ve always known, in the end I’d be sorry
And that’s all I am now, and it’s all I can be
Is sorry.

bucolic

wayward jaybirds in the window

rows of clots tilled deep to pick

stead illusion, scant imbroglios

rotten orchards ripe with panic

.

whirling stale air in the bedroom

where the corpses shimmered blue

exposed to love and pure sunbloom

to free the worms from pulpy rue.

swings & roundabouts

and so what if i don’t

and so what if i left myself silent

sad not-sad like chewing tangerine

peels in the middle of the night

so my gums could feel something

other than worndown, other than numb

other than something not smiling

in repetitive strokes of fanciful futures

forgetting for a moment’s worth

because a picture frame smiled back

do they mind that i’m pretending

and so what if it hurts me like

pain not-pain turning my skin inside-out

to rid my clothes of your scent

because you thought it was funny to

spill your guts all over me

like i didn’t do the same, the same

but worse and i couldn’t sleep it off i’ve

been sleeping things off for a while now

seeing friends living life taking the

medication i don’t have, and so what

i wonder what you’d say to me

if i had the strength to leave my bed

and fix my papers and dance

a pretty little lie that isn’t caused

by impulses and attention hyperaction

i wonder if you’d still think i’m a riot or

if you’ve been tired of the same

over-recorded joke, if you had the strength

to laugh just one more time

would i feel less suicidal

and so what if i am

and so what if i don’t make it past 25

because war and wildflowers

look the same filling my coffee-drip brain

and i’m not allowed to say the s-word

so i roll it thinly in my tongue and let it coat

the holes in my stomach and i don’t

throw it up with the family dinner

and then what else

and then i did it to myself

myself not-myself like robin blue eggshells

and brown craft paper for a body

so i could pretend i’m a fucking work of art

other than worndown, other than numb

other than something not working

and so what if i do

violent delights have violent ends

come wash your sin with me,

i am a flightless soul covered in gossamer

i am love in the form of locks

you cannot unchain with bared teeth

and bare skin and the blade

of the twisted dagger strapped against your thigh

i adore your spirit but i do not

adore you. i am a capricious madness

drink me to excess if you so wish

me to be—a cold chestful of chemical smoke

a sink full of the remnants of

an unborn child, eject me

i am unwanted, i am a wanted hallelujah

with a swollen-gum smile in every

lithographed dead or alive poster, please save me

please buy black water lilies

for my funeral the priest won’t attend

please let the worms make homes out of my

gaping throat, and i shall whisper unto

you. one last time. it will be done

unto your will without wisdom

i am corruption in the form of conscience

i am the riptide washing away your firstborn son

with the taste of bloody verona.

misguided

And now I’m told that this is life
That pain is just a simple compromise
So we can get what we want out of it…

~*~

8:36 AM // 10.19.21

leaving grief. and i—i now remember why

i should never have allowed anyone

to get under my buckling skin

for fine friends are only fine, friends until

they know the perfect way to damage

the stillborn remnants of what you hold on to

them, without patience, distraught,

you; promises of finding someone better

overhearing a devotion that cannot possibly be true

only useful in the event of an epiphanic letdown

i love you but why have i loved you

did i love you because you were kind for five seconds

and it was only fair to bleed when it should not be enough

did you not love me because i wasn’t enough

or because you knew i was nothing to be proud of?

from knowing too much, trusting too well

follies and fey melodies for a final disconnect

i loved you never mean what you say

say anything to say anything to say anything to say

sorry. your smug conversation is one i carry still with me

even as the tactile memory of you burns

and my singed skin curls into the shape of an old friend

who never cared. i never remember to forget

they’ll always be there until they aren’t

leaving, grief, and i—i no longer wish for a happier end

i only wish there was a softer way to recover.

~*~

Misguided ghosts, traveling endlessly
The ones we trusted the most pushed us far away
And there’s no one road, we should not be the same
But I’m just a ghost, and still they echo me
They echo me in circles…