imagine all the people; living for today

disintangled autumn sun, the soft imprint of sweat on the back of your chair.
coffee grinds stick to your lungs and you feel power, the indecision behind the mask controls you.
hard candy shell and six months later i fell apart,
your oozing indifference finding me, brittle bits of nothing strewn across your carpet. i marked the date on the calendar with a bright red X, cut across the two numbered squares with a shaking hand; i never wanted you to know, how unsteady i was under pressure.

flew into your apartment building; wings crooked, tacked to a soft exterior. smirking, the push-pin eyes falling onto the papers that seemingly littered the floor. block between fourth and fifth, madison square and park. limelight burning between your bones, joints flailing in ways that they shouldn't be moving. your face, looking up from the street. a window in your irises and mine; empty holes with what? behind. question marks that carve into your cerebellum, answers that can't be found.

                                                      [+]
i wanted you, all of you. sunlight like a ship cast onto the water- an april morning in july. we fell into old patterns, slipping across the rocks and cutting up the forgotten pieces of who we once were. i told you, told you that i was not what you wanted, but you never listened.
                                                      [-]

placid tear drops, undeserving shelter from the rain. the water singing across the wood, making marks in children with dirty feet and sticky hands. the wind confused us then, checked us for lost causes and threw us back to the pebbles. i could never have this, i only thought that i could. singed skin against your perfect smile and an afternoon of jello shots; i waited till the sand was gone before i moved.


rose colored beer goggles, setting floors and carpets with needles.
following feet across the ice cubes, freedom is dead.
three thousand dollar dogs and 5 hour energy, trading presidents for food stamps and living the american dream in trailer parks and broken down cars.
standard solo cups and plastic balls, we bounce, we drink, we fall. the pattern that we follow is stitched so closely, it's tearing, slowly.
world in denial and soiled newspaper headline.
"Give Peace A Chance"; but no one hears the screams.
i find a match, a field. i light the cancer that comes easily, breathe in.
[we are paying to kill ourselves, and we love it]


[-]
you slid into my old ways, your escaping memories left on the last train to Albany;
5 AM and you're still here.
i closed my eyes, pushed you back. it was never good, we were never good.
looked at you, trying so hard to cry. but there was nothing left to cry over.
there IS nothing left to cry over.
my eyes hurt, the dry sunlight filters in and stings-
dust scratches the interior of my mouth and i am full.
i explode into pieces of former self; floating.
i've been empty for so long and now, now here i am.
catch a piece of your soul in my hands and i watch it wither;
you
                have
                                          lost
                                                                  your
                                                                                            will













(and i have lost you)