minds drip

archaoism:

if my shoulder blades would just snap out
and accept their place as machetes
guarding whatever it is my ribs hold
in prison

where the magic wears out rather quickly
and i make potions out of reconciliaton
to whatever i used to believe was worth
praying for

this was meant to be written in parantheses
but all i’ve got is a mouth full of theses
on theories of everything in the world
i look at too often

i asked someone recently, “do you
ever just stare at plants?”

and she looked at me like i was crazy

so either i exist in another reality
or dimension or whatever this
consciousness is

(where the ego has died
and my veins know more drugs
than the volume of blood i’ve lost
on purpose)

or it’s everyone else
and i’m protected inside this bubble
of awareness
i keep trying to get out of

by writing poems
by fucking
by popping pills
by moonshine

none of it works
so god created loneliness
and named it
self worth

so humans are the joke

but the thing is
i’m used to my heartbeat being called a punchline
and i don’t want to lay in bed anymore
with someone that doesn’t lay awake at night
admiring what dreams i haven’t let die

i may not understand syntax
or know the best recipes for metaphors that
know how to make poems
last for centuries

we all die at the end anyway
and if the only thing that remembers me
is the stardust i turn into after this life

i want it to burn
brighter than the sun

We never learnt the technique of trying too hard

giraffevader:

I’m on the riverbank ready to throw myself in,
no words you say
          could build a bridge for me to cross.
We’ve always been losing,
          but now I’m lost.
Whisper white lies in my ears;
          like a missed phone call
          the alarm bells rang off a long time ago,
                    but I never got the message.
I miss the mess,
          and I miss the millstone you cast
                    around my neck,
and I missed a breath
          when you told me we were worthless.

The sky is as cold as torture,
grey and ready to fall,
          and you know I’ll falter.
We lie like only lovers can
          and promise to give it our all.
But I know you wake every day at dawn,
          dreaming of his call
          that never comes.

aspergerhamburgerhamhamburglar:

numbers / numbness—
we sleep on sea shells.
counting the mistakes
that fill us,
hoping not to crack.
the hours pull
our bodies in—
a polluted tide over
cold indigo skin.