there's the me
that knows you,
that sees you

that you
unlocks this me
I like him better. 
he likes you more. 

There you are, 
I see you now. 

You take the shards of yourself

and run them across my face. 

the placid, frozen-smile, carefully in place

Happy. So happy. You cut me 

You don't wait around, to watch me bleed. 

You don't care, you wouldn't dare 

I look after you, and know I should run 

Back to you, I wanna run back to you

I feel it, I feel it. 

Broken people cut me

and sometimes I like it. 

Broken people cut me

and sometimes I like it. 

You drag your words, across my tongue

I know I ought to turn and run, 

You cut away the fake 

Broken people cut me. And sometimes, 

I like it. 

I feel it.

Deeply. 

Am I an emptional maschochist?

How can joy compare?

It's not as sharp. You can't

cut me with a spoon

You need the thin, razor edge

to bleed.

Feeling something

is better than feeling nothing. 

Purgatory

 Everything is brown. 

Dust gives everything a shabby feeling. 

It coats everything and transports you

back

in time—or ahead to an apocalyptic future

where nothing green grows anymore. 

Dust is time passing. 

Evidence. 

A surrender to futility. 

There's no color anymore. 

I don't recognize
the version of me
that was in love
with you. 

Phoenix

I am tormented

by my love for you. 

It burns me.

It consumes me.

I'm embarrassed. 

I really ought to know better by now. 

Sparks

and fire 

and ice

It burns.  

Cohesion doesn't make sense. 

This, doesn't make sense. 

Cohesion doesn't explain

the delight in longing,

the lust and self-loathing

that loving you brings. 

I will die in the fire of all of this. I know it. 

It's a dangerous game, loving you. 

It burns. 

I am burning. 

Ashes.

And then the spark,

lights...

And my torment

my love,

begins again. 

There are words
weighing heavy on
my lips

But they don't budge,

they sit there
digging in their heels

resisting the urge
to be written

Bite-sized bits

Underwear
is aspirational
somedays

--------------

A pencil is more reliable
but less permanent.

A tricky payoff, no?

--------------

I don't dream about tornadoes anymore,

But I smoke now, sometimes.

--------------

Maybe I should go find someone to fuck.

Is that what this is? Surrender?

Surrender.

--------------

Is it possible to smell like anything
other than sweat
and mosquito spray here?