juvenile extermination

have i ever (never) grown past that?

sitting in the stairwell

hiding under bleachers

behind burning buildings, and metaphorically crashed cars 

i found bugs and those who loved

myself, alone, in the dirt

an EXoskeletal INtrovert 

buzzing headphones, sweat down my back

losing my grip (am i a hack?)

failing scores, and tailing-doves

i who love, dishonest hugs

a lightbulb in a dryer drum

the beetles all begin to hum

thrumming from inside my skull

millipedes _____ feeling full

lightning never striking twice

its struck three times all my life

(luck for the unlucky is a comedy)

 

not here

flowing mercurial

surrounded in the sky

my heart falls onto the path

ignorant passersby 

see you over the oceans seperation

local love and, local anesthesia

fallout rain, and kisses soft

touch me, hold their flames aloft

butane burning, scorching smell

oh, by god, youre just as well

killed a ghost, killed a future

pale dull skin, the ladder of veins 

the latter of it, invisibly scarred

i drop to the floor, and search for my heart

but she is not there

SHES NOT THERE ANYMORE

faded to dust, killed as i must've

forgotten her somewhere, and left her alone

wanting for something, but i'll always know

that the inside of me, IT WAS NEVER HER HOME

underwater

everyone i know, 

is moving up in life

incessantly bored

giving me strife

years, careers 

degrees, no fleas

i itch at my skin

and it begs me to bleed

a foot hangs off my bed 

a foot in the grave

im not getting anywhere 

by just staying safe

fish in the water 

so quick and so clean

an eel, in the darkness 

that's more like me

still ill

its horrible fucking reflection. on the inside of the cage, snapping at anyone after years of cruelty. 

i wish i could be sweet, tolerable, and run into your arms. safe, like a mother should be, how a mother should care.

but nothing really changes. i grow taller. i am bigger than you in stature. i am still a kid on my bedroom floor, so scared. 

picking ceramic out of the carpet. pushed and pulled so hard i get rug burn. kneeling on colored pencils and grains of rice. pressing my face into the corner of the walls. welts that don't last long enough for anyone to really notice. bruises and torn pages. nothing truly mine.

i barricade the door, i run away, i tuck myself into the smallest of places. 

but nothing can protect me like distance. i get a key to my own room. i am broken into. i am still a kid on my bedroom floor.

and i sob, lonely, accompanied by my radio and my reading. rapunzel in his tower. angel with clipped wings, withering from disuse. 

picking at myself, feathers and tears may fall, but are they mine? its just rain. i smile, brushing my tears away.