Sleep, don’t visit,
So I choke on sun and the days blur into one,
And the backs of my eyes hum with things I’ve never done.
Sheets are swaying from an old clothesline,
Like a row of captured ghosts, over old dead grass.
Was never much, but we made the most.
Welcome home.
Ships are launching from my chest,
Some have names, but most do not.
If you find one, please, let me know what piece I’ve lost.
Peel the scars from off my back, I don’t need them anymore,
You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars.
I’ve come home.
All my nightmares escaped my head,
Bar the door, please don’t let them in.
You were never supposed to leave.
Now my head’s splitting at the seams.
And I don’t know if I can…
Here, beneath my lungs,
I feel your thumbs, press into my skin again.
Radical Face
What breaks you down is all in how you carry."
The Fray
I cannot cherish her
I see her sometimes, when I look in the mirror. She stares at me with dark eyes. her fury boils in them like black smoke. I know why she is angry. She is angry with me, with this house, with this life, with this job. She is angry with me, because I could not live the way she needed me to live. She is angry with me, because all the worlds are gone now. Because I have closed the door on the last dusty footprint. She is angry, because I never wrote the stories that hold her in thrall, that I stopped trying to set her free and instead let her drown.
No time to think of consequences.
Oliver Wendell Holmes
(via sonoarabo)
