a very still breath

flashes of color from shifting eyes

two not at their very best

whispers that melt into lies

wandering hands, nothing to hold

a frosted spark

misunderstood intentions

pull light from this dark

luminescent intervention

scraping the bottom, empty we find

let’s move this mountain

it’s become too high to scale

drowning in this ocean

we’re destined to fail

but I want to explode still

oh, I wanna feel again

I wanna feel again

stay.

turn off the sun

it hangs too low today

the winds of change

are trying to blow me away

I have held on remarkably well

but time swore not to tell

keep your eye blind

I know what you see

keep your words unkind

they settle better with me

I have made my sacrifices

they choose to lie with my vices

Tie my hands behind my back

Paint the roses black

They always die anyway

Sow my mouth shut

Salt the paper cuts

I’m numb anyway

Will I stay?

Will I stay?

drag the book out again

I want to feel the words

scripture from before then

healing in reverse

I used to be someone

and now I’m no one

Tie my hands behind my back

Paint the roses black

They always die anyway

Sow my mouth shut

Salt the paper cuts

I’m numb anyway

Will I stay?

Will I stay?

I ran until my feet bled and watched until my eyes burned

You laid out all the lesson plans but I can’t remember anything I learned

Where’s your hand now? How did forever somehow slip away?

Will I ever, will I ever, stay?

Will I ever stay?

I sit on the bathroom floor. The shower liner needs to be replaced because it’s old and falling apart. I bought a new one at Big Lots but it seems like such a huge task to switch it. I stare at the scale. I should weigh myself. I’m hungry. Surely I’ve lost a few more pounds.

I clean the kitchen counters. Empty the dishwasher. Stare out the window. I would love to take a walk on the trail but I worry who I’ll run into. I don’t feel like dealing with human interaction.

My room is messy. I tell myself that not everyone is neat freak and it’s okay to have a messy room. I mean, who sees it but me? It doesn’t matter. But it does. That shower liner matters. The kitchen counters matter. Walking matters. Everything matters. I’m tired.

I was big into fruit infused water. I prepared it daily. It’s a chore now. It sits on my computer desk, some water and lemon still in it. The lemon is probably eating through the Walmart plastic. I don’t care. I can’t make myself care.

Do I want to care?

I’m so “on” at work that I turn myself off when I leave. I’ve become an amazing actor. Where’s my Academy Award? Where’s my fucking award?

I’m tired.