it comes and it goes. it burns and it flows.

there's a past of mine that i just can't let go of.
a past that, despite the twists and turns in my stomach, it remains in tact.
she's saint, and she's my best friend (outside of blood).

she reminds me that, although i may not be going on, life surely does.
despite the pulsating pain of snapping bones, i am alive.
despite the part of me that's missing, it will return.

despite it all... there will always be a couch and an angel willing to sit with me.

i will never understand how someone could handle these roads and wounds for so many years, and then i remember that she understands. she knows me better than anyone does. better than i know myself. and although that's not enough to answer these questions, it's enough.

i am still in the beginning, despite the timely calucations slapped into my face a few days ago. the mathematics are against me, but i am against my own will. had i been selfish, a war would have ensued, and i would have lost. but i wouldn't have gone down without a fight.

i am no longer myself, though, this has been established. and until that homeless child returns, i am nothing but what you want me to be, only because my voice is missing. mirrors are shattered, and years and years of bad luck have been granted.

i needed our lack of talk. thank you.

saline saltines.

this subject will never grow stale.
however, i am changing the subject.
i am changing the scenery.
a change of pace, despite my pacemaker becoming faulty.
my favourite color consumes me.
it burns me. it revives me.
in that way that reminds me that i am alive.
in that way that reminds me that i am being eaten alive.

when the going gets tough, get the fuck out.
resources exhausted, resurrection initiated.
i ache for so much noise that i can't hear you.
that laugh is contagious, and the best i can do is run away from this disease.
my bones give me the impression that everything has been left in a forbidden country.
i prefer it that way. i don't want any of it back.

i don't want myself back. not halfway.

masochistic voyeur.

take the rope to my heart and fall.
you may just be the last before you see the black tangled heart fall.

i will read every inch of your memory until it no longer causes me to shake, or crumble, or disintegrate my bones.

bones. that's all i am lately. i never knew how badly recycled words could hurt. i guess they never meant anything when spat towards me. now i know what they all really meant.

at least i am angry now. livid. violent. thanks for pushing me out of the first phase.

i did fuck this up, after all. what's my problem, anyway?

an exchange of hearts. i was never refunded.

fault is a word that trickles down my jawline in crimson.
i bleed, because i do not know any better.
i work, because it's the only thing i know how to do.

i never knew how to love (you properly). i thought i did.
i did what i thought was best.

it was never about me, despite the eyes all over this.

cross those ts, dot my cries. i dab them in the shirt you forgot about.
left in the underground. left it alone with the trash you always managed to see through.

these bones crawl. these bones are brittle.
healing is for the willing.

you never returned me.
i'm that gift you lost the receipt for.

forget me, and forget this. i wish to slip away the same way that it is believed i have handled this well.

facades are easy when ignorant. i have seen the line, and it blinds me in red and green.

trickle down my neck, the thick garnet following the current of this stain.

never see me again. i rather you think i never really wanted it.

may he keep you safe. may i remain in this funnel cloud without escape.
for if he ever slices a strand from your brow, i will tear him to unrecognizable shreds.

you have always been stronger, and i have always admired that.
my telescope eyes seek, while you never blink in my direction.






never again.

this constitutes a resolute.

I regret.
I've regressed.
I repent.

... but will I ever return?