wait an hour for the numbing to kick in
dissect your hand with a disposable scalpel
i must have attached the blade wrong
i must have got the numbing on my fingers
the blade snapped in my hand
[written on my phone's memo screen after losing furiously at a karate match]
I was never something i wasn’t i’m not but you thought so i didn’t know it took me a long time
Have i actually ever spoke?
I dissected myself in front of the bathroom mirror
I started a new life to run parallel to the first
It's like standing on the edge of a cliff, a precipice
A ditch seems so deep to a wide-eyed child
And the buzz of insects, the smell of rot
The warmth of spring cloying with sweet decay
Green eyes lay open, staring up at the sky, and arms broken and torn half-reaching upwards
There is sympathy then, and digging in a blur
When she lay beneath the earth to rest did the realization come
That death was real and possible, and green eyes didn't close.
I can't read everything is blurry
I see there's words and lines
But I can't focus I'm unsure how many letters I see
I forget what words look like
How does the alphabet go again?
Please! I can't remember
How do I communicate?
I'm stuck in fog and can't speak
I can't move or function
I feel trapped
I'm locked inside
Can they see me trying?
Please i NEED to communicate THIS!
It's a feeling like mushrooms growing in your throat,
a gradual decay,
a lonely sort of rotting.
A corpse buried on it's back has nowhere to face but the stars.
The walking dead have to walk for something.
No matter how the insects crawling within chitter that this corpse is THEIRS your eyes remain fixed to the constellations. Eyes and eyes and eyes to see the stars through.
The only voice you ever had belonged to a smatter of suns.
October and the Stars
Sowing seeds into my skin
I watched them slowly grow
Then in the night i dreamt of insects underneath the snow
In the morning light my arms
Bore bite-mark-riddled flowers
And trying not to cry i dug them all up taking hours
There's a gentle kind of grief
In destroying what is lost
But though they eat away at me i've always loved the moths.
At least i'm still alive but my brain is always screaming
My mind was sharp but now it's full of bullet holes
Ghosts filled them up and now I don't think I can die anymore
Dang, i just wanted to see blood, stop being such a jerk
I drew a knife across the back of my hand as quick as I could, but my hand still jerked away faster
Cold and heartless, perhaps without empathy, but sometimes that emotional unit sparks
It's awfully abstract
Bad decisions turned me into a bad decision machine
Hahaaa it was either two years ago or i never did it
Fill my head with bees, bees, bees
Well there's blood and yellow paint on your fingers
And the LED is buzzing and you accidentally touched it and
You're disgusted
Because the paint is dry and flaking but the blood is wet and now it's on the lights