bluebonnets and hummingbirds.

The bells ring like centipedes, crawling down my arms
where the simplicity of pure white snow comes to rest against
every little thought you imprint upon my forehead.

Sometimes when I turn my head too far to the right,
I see the bleach draining into my throat.
It's dizzying, and I slip onto the bathroom floor.

I smile;
until I hear your heartbeat shaking the floor from a room away.
It's fascinating to play that instrument in your chest.
Death's a cheap price to pay when you're so extravagant.

Chai kisses leave me gasping for air,
and your fingers make me feel like I'm a child again.
My feet are slowly melting into little more than my snapped ankles
and a few tinges of eyeliner smudges.

And I can't stop sleeping like I came to rest in a bed
of bluebonnets and hummingbirds.
And I can't stop feeling like every inch of my body is covered
in music and static, invigorating to the bottom of
every inch of warmth that covers the walls of my veins.

I can't stop breathing so deep that the air
laces into my blood and fills me up with
sea vapors and the scent of
hurricanes.

I've spun enough webs in my time
to know when stability turns to
infinity.

And I've cut my skin open enough times to know
when a lack of renewed scars
means a new chapter is ready to begin.