city scrapers and mud stained boots

skyscrapers carve smiles in the sky
and the earth clings to your feet, refusing to let you join them.

trigger warnings for:

Spoiler

mentions of self-harm/suicide, suicide ideation, drugs, themes of death, religion, cursing, (warnings to be potentially be added)

new year city

pickpockets on all corners of times square,
fingers outstretched to hook into oblivious passerby.

fireworks boom in the sky over head,
smog blocking starshine from ever getting through.

railways carve through the underground,
like veins in a human arm, lifeblood welling up.

the ground is littered with champagne bottles
and the smoky remnants of explosions.

big city lights illuminate shadowy crevices
and too many people to count,
like ants spilling out of their homes,
to watch the spectacle above.

oxidized copper stands proud,
waving a torch of freedom
as blasts rock the ground below.

tw: mention of god

mx. forgettable

they call me miss forgettable
married to my anonymity.
the apocalypse started yesterday
and i'm sitting at my kitchen table
because even god forgot i existed.

they call me mister forgettable
walking hand in hand with namelessness
my head says lead the way
but my heart says forget it,
they don't know you anyways.

they call me mix forgettable
best friend to the invisible.
it's the chemicals to blame
for you forgetting my name.
do i know me? aren't i lonely?

i wish for the days where war was only a card game
and goodbyes always meant tomorrow.

to think that i wished to grow up.


i’m in the days where war leaves my future to rest its weary feet on shaky ground,
knowing i’m to fall eventually but uncertain where it’ll land me.
goodbyes no longer mean tomorrow, they mean i’m reaching out
to distant stars for an embrace i’ll never receive.

i’m all grown up now.

i dig my palms into my mouth,
mouth full of gnashing teeth.
teeth of poison and disease and pain.
pain i wouldn’t wish on anyone.
anyone except for you.
you kind of deserve it.

Spoiler

snippets i will revisit later

my parents died when i was six,
leaving rotting corpses under their skin.

~~~

i loved who i thought you were,
but you’re just the ghost in my attic.

~~~

gave my number to someone i don’t like,
but hey, what’s another person to ignore?
i’m swimming in missed calls
and my texts like to choke me at sea.

limbs stretch long on sandy beaches,
to the point where they hang over the towel.

drowsy, halfhearted complaints
about sand inbetween your toes.

you perk up when i laugh
and tell you to just go run in the ocean.

whole body tensed up, pointer dog at the ready,
waiting for me to join you.

it sags when i shake my head no,
"sorry, but i don't want to go in the ocean."

how do i explain the inexplicable fear,
the overwhelmingness of not knowing?

the saltwater that clogs my throat,
the way it burns itself into something new?

you plead again, not able to take no for an answer
and i concede, letting you pull me into the ocean.

you're unflinching, unwavering in the face of adversary
while i am just too weak to stand the fear of being alone.

lithium batteries in the sink,
rust stains on smooth porcelain
like ink from a broken pen
or blood from your veins,
splashed all across the page.

stillwater in the bathtub
from the day you drowned yourself
bacteria burrowing into your flesh,
leaving sour eyes & sallow skin
sloughing into superfluous parts & thoughts.

& you look in the reflection
& see me staring back
& wonder if you carve the flesh away
from my cheeks if you'll see you again.
& you don't, left with rot & misunderstanding.

the hallway stretches forever now
and she walks down it, head hung low
bag swinging in time to her steps
and she walks down it, head hung low
she's spiraling out of control.

she's spiraling out of control,
bag swinging in time to her steps
palms sweaty on the case of her phone
and she walks down it, head hung low
the hallway stretches forever now

palms sweaty on the case of her phone
she's spiraling out of control,
the hallway stretches forever now
love her. hate her. pity her. it changes nothing.
the hallway stretches forever now

love her. hate her. pity her. it changes nothing.
she's spiraling out of control,
and she walks down it, head hung low
ignores the guy at the end of the hall.
the hallway stretches forever now.

there's a devil on my shoulder
and was an angel on the other
but i think it's gone now since
it hasn't spoken since i was six
when my parents died and left
rotting corpses beneath their skin.

curdled milk in an empty refrigerator,
the house rots, eaten away by mice
when the cats aren't home to play.
fuzzy tomatoes on the counter,
dripping juices onto marble.
the skeleton frame stretches
the skin of the house out over
jaunting bones and hollow guts.
the bathtub sits stagnant with
stillwater and the house's thoughts
devour any holiness left behind
at the alter in the living room,
collecting dust in the corner
by the decaying fireplace.

there's a ghost in the attic,
an echo of someone i thought
that i could love, someone
who i thought i did love.

it's hungry, fingers reaching
out to grasp at my sweater.
hungry, stomach bubbling
and boiling, digging into my wrist.

i'm hungry, folding hands
across my stomach,
pressing down on my guts
like it'll keep them there.

sickness clogs my arteries,
sour grease down the drain.
it congeals into something
undesirable, indescribable.

i dig it out with fingers until
it's stuck under my nail beds,
thick, cloying, suffocating.
i bend under its weight.