ties from burgundy carpet rugs
my back is burnt just as bad
as bad as the burns you left beside my lungs
large flakes feel like chalant dates
times that pass through broken vases of candy corn
just because Halloween is our favourite holiday
we get to wear a mask over our disguise.
I feel like I’m falling through the holes you’ve created for me.
just to avidly kill the difference.
in me.
so we turn the clocks like waves of electric failure.
go back, to the beginning.
the walls are redefining love
in love with closet doors
only to put a rounded coffee stain
on the ripples of today
how much time do we have left
in our couching youth of lame
swirl around this basement out of a sitcom
these friends are substantial.
it is because the butterfly
she walked out of the complex door
lined with DVDs and uncertainties
I’m afraid of commitment
from the socks on my feet
to the sway of the bedroom door.
the tear between my blood and skin
flattens itself to drown in old days
the ones that smell like molded opportunities
freeing from the deeper inner intensity
to go back
go back to junior gumballs of lit candles
burgundy snatched these chances
kissed away the future with thick smoke
red lipstick left on cigarettes
dancing in the light of gross
the walls are rewriting hate.
