still alive?

Those skeletons I used to love are high and dry in my closet. Resented and discarded, swinging in the closet.

Dreamscape

There was a time when I could see the world in your eyes. Small, reflective pools. Deep watercolor of imagined ideals. So, I stopped searching for God in other men. The grooves in your palms and the traction of your fingertips tracing cursive lines across the surface of my skin- it feels like walking on…

Osmosis

out of body out of mind out of fucking time falling out of love out of sync out of place

throwback

the memories smell like sugar. sound of indie and piano keys and steps that last whole note seconds. real feel fifty degrees away from catching fire. taste of rust salt sweat and blood and straight toothed dreams.

free spirit at all costs

i want to crush it in my palms. feel it rupture under the pressure of my lips and tongue. i want to feel the curve of my waist caving in and splintering upon impact. to feel the violence of its diffusion threatening to split me to the bone. hear its whispers of heaven and faraway…

suffocation

And the fact remains: I breathe for you. Flowers bloom to remind me of you spanning every season. Perennial memorials of the best and worst days. You've cradled me in your arms, heavy and half asleep. You've pervaded space and time covering a million distances between your thumb and index. I hollowed myself out, bleeding…

——

you like things you can’t keep like the hearts pinned to your wall or locked up in your chest

mania

I’ve been thinking lately About the way it hurt Memories of the gimmicks And excuses Strawberry flavored lies And the way it hurt To walk past him And hear his ebbing voice The way it hurt To be forgotten.