these eyes that salute you.
with songs like, death and her
young, guillontined wings that hang between the poem's fermented tear drops..
trying to break noose.
it won't spark their mundane interest.
you bargain collectives to make fading into the numbness less of a catch all.
with the lump in your throat, and the introverts summoning fears under the table..
pills in hand.
you wave like bits of paper abandoned by trashcans.
you wave, calling all stakes off your crowd.
there's this kind of defiantness that comes over me when i watch you.
where's always that first joy, and then the alledged source but then she is scaling herself into my peripheal.
can't you just let it go.
you were, who you'll be.
who are you trying to impress?
when you're standing on the brink of death and no one's blowing either eay.
get up and decide this.
piece by piece you wither.
while they all sit around eating yogurt.
you wish you could sift down,
somewhere beneath the empty bedrooms.
somewhere safe, where you can't love him.