all the persistence of the slow-motion minutes has thrown me into a strangling, numbing turmoil. the words were forced up and out of my swollen throat as if my life depended on it and i hardly took a second to pull the questions back in and wonder- until it was too bloody late and i was piled beneath a hurricane's debris of unanswered cries and deep, groggy breaths. the ecstatic nostalgia comes top-speed running
like i've become so accustomed to in my life of broken fingers, golden falsieties.. i sit in a fabricated castle of pretentious breeding cycles and wonder why i let their blood stain my favorite shirt. they kiss me in the face of my beloved piece of art that animated my life-
HIS apprehension is always removable with a tide stick.
my invisible body is aching. i'm stranded in sinking sand, reaching for branches that can save me and they crack like fucking cornflakes. i disappoint forests at a time. i'm blue and red and ripped from head to toe. a wet newspaper under your "cool" shoes. for you to save me, i'd have to hide somewhere in your dirty, empty sheets for weeks before you'd remember that i'd been dampened by your amnesia. and for the other- a beautiful, comatose alien that will never know me... i've found my grave with you. a wordless response to a tape measure crossing cold, wet sand and water. and it never mattered to begin with.
i've had a strange day and i'm trying to enjoy the silence of an empty home, but it's making my ears ring. solitude is so terrifying sometimes. the only comforts i can find are further that where my fingers can reach. i'm clutching air.
this perfect square piece of stained notebook paper burning into little firemen and soldiers through my stomach, when your pretty face hangs around like the best burden i've ever had. i'll wake up tangled in a familiar black sweater in the morning, something i've never been more sure of.