marked down

It's just the same, the same as yesterday -☆- Don't wake me up if you have nothing to say -☆- Who chooses to keep all these bohemian thoughts alive

[gospelburnout]

i dreamed that he hit me again last night

i thought about it all day

but i didn't tell anyone,

i couldn't be weak.

so i tell only when the moon can’t see me,

when i don't feel memories breathing down my neck

i fight with dreams when im awake,

dreams that threw a 9 year old boy into a cream colored fridge

covered in shattered magnets made in head start classrooms

dreams that knocked pieces of me astray that i still can’t pick up

and i don’t want to be afraid to sleep anymore

but i dreamt that my mother cried because of me when i was a child

and i don’t want to stay up for days anymore

but i don’t want to fall asleep

i wish i didn’t need to sleep, and i could pretend

that his apathy and depression don’t feel like personal failures

pretend i'd ever make him happy

i won’t reflect well on him as long as i live, as long as i dream,

but after i reflect, i won’t live for him anyway

maybe i am selfish

but i want to be happy

and i want to dream of cotton candy like i did before everything

[gospelburnout]

you reached a hand of solid ice into my aching, burning, stinging chest and ripped out the crystals that inhabited the cavity and shined for you

it hurt and it stunted the growth of the crystals inside me and my pitch black empty insides pledged to never grow them again because you broke me

a year after i left you the cave inside me felt safe enough to grow more crystals and they still all shone for you but i must be as undeserving as you say i am

because i dont want them to

[gospelburnout]

the heart pounding anxiety of fear and love are nearly the same.

i tally the points of each and can’t find a meaningful distinction in the moment,

physically so universal and similar, overactivity of the brain,

but inside, passed layers of everything, one is fixing what the other has broken.

one feels so immovable and static, suffocating and unable to get help;

the other is help, is safety, is everything the other is not with every heartbeat.

fear makes you think that it is all there is and will be, it is a part of the self,

but love, while still born of adrenaline, replaces bitter blood with sweet.

it will never be fear because i say it is not, and i say it is not because i am alive-

fear will never be love, either, and frozen parts of my heart are still hidden,

but now im not just trying to survive.

now my heart beats just a little different

[gospelburnout]

i lived with you again in my dreams last night,

and after all the saccharine things you fed into my phone

like frying it with honey sticks;

and after all the times i gave myself one more sugar high

a silent plea for everything to feel normal, please,

i lived with you again, in that dream, after it all.

i was still afraid of you.

[gospelburnout]

LOOK AT ME, HARDENED AND BROKEN

AND TELL ME I AM STILL A CHILD.

TELL ME I AM STILL YOUR CHILD, TELL ME THAT I EVER WAS.

TELL ME THAT YOU EVER LOOKED AT ME

MOUTH FULL OF ANYTHING BUT SHAME AND DISGUST,

UNTIL I LEFT YOU FOR MY OWN AUTONOMY.

TELL ME YOU MISS ME, AND TELL ME IM MEANT TO KNOW THAT.

FEED ME THE PRETENSE THAT YOUVE LOVED ME ALL ALONG,

AND THAT LOVE WASNT JUST A STAR IN THE SKY

THAT ID NEED TO BECOME AN ASTRONAUT, OR A CEO,

THAT ID NEED TO MAKE A NAME THAT REFLECTED WELL ON YOU,

OR THAT ID NEED TO KILL MYSELF TO FINALLY GET TO.

NO, TELL ME YOUVE ALWAYS LOVED ME AND SHOWN IT,

AND TELL ME THAT IM AN ANGEL,

AND THEN NEVER FUCKING LIE TO ME AGAIN.

TELL ME IT ALL ONE MORE TIME, AND THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD.

LEAVE THE ECHOES OF YOUR ANGER INSTEAD,

SO I CAN REMEMBER WHAT I RAN AWAY FROM.

[gospelburnout]

there is a tower somewhere in a field that is made out of stones and bricks and concrete and twigs and rope

there is a permanent weight pulling down down down that nobody can see

because there is a river right next to the tower and it sees its reflection and trembles and hurts

how can this frankenstein building made with nature murdered in the name of existence justify the space it fills

when across the river are trees taller and thicker and more luscious than it will ever be

more alive and breathing and better at being than it will ever be

don’t compare yourself to the tree of knowledge, it will only cast you into hell

but at least the injustice that grows in the cracks of me, that was planted and fed and watered by me, feels warmer down there

[gospelburnout]

i left, and it wasn’t how i’d always dreamed. i was not a firecracker burning down the house and it was not the arson and infrastructure damage unto man that i’d always wanted it to be. it wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t theatrics, it was survival. it was always survival and i was always the rabbit. i said goodbye to him, and we stared over a chasm and over a surging river. we could not cross nor burn a bridge that had never been built, and so we said goodbye. and with that, i escaped the fox’s den and waited for the next disaster to strike. as much as i had changed everything about everything, it will always be the same. trees lose every single leaf they’ve ever had and regrow completely new ones every single year, but nothing ever leaves, does it? my twisted, mangled roots will always be a reminder of that forest and the branches that scarred me, of years that moved too fast and too slow and weren’t real, but i will regrow the branches i’d been forced to prune. i will never be perfect, i will never be fully put together, but i will be whole. survival taught me that, and it is always survival

[gospelburnout]

winding rivers and waters and veins all under skin dont always loop back home. sometimes things sever or taper off and the fluid doesn’t run everywhere all the time, not red red red red red red red just quiet. the trickling of a faucet into new things is an audience of unspoken cowards that all take from you what they want while you dry up. am i hope to them? am i self assertion? am i meek and underwhelming? questions make a person weary and grate on the ears and make dry dry dust of hammers and anvils and stirrups as you ride away, follow the river, it make dust of all of us but loops back but it wont. rivers know which way to flow and direction is static and bloody water makes a mess and will forever. i leave a trail so i know ill never go back to the ocean of sharks and poison

[gospelburnout]

i told you it all would fade away,

but a shock is still a shock is still a shock.

you said the butterflies would leave someday,

blood and fire in my chest yet to lock.

can a metaphor ever truly air

the tossing and the turning of my heart-

you are made of wondrous blinding glare,

you are a hundred thousand works of art.

we said the honeymoon phase wouldn't last,

we said we'd close up the firework show,

but maybe we just can't bottle the blast.

maybe this is how love's supposed to go.

if love explodes and fades out like a star;

if we're not love, i still love what we are.

[gospelburnout]

the sky was red, like the sunset, and like it had been for 10 hours, now

clouds laid in strips across it like a pattern, or, more aptly, like someone had dragged their claws across it

i sat and gawked: terrified, enthralled, excited

you stood and watched: holding my hand, and nothing else really mattered

"i told you so"

i gave you your 20 dollars. right after that, unbeknownst to us, paper money lost all value

then we set off in your car

[gospelburnout]

to sleep without the soft sound of her bed and her breath rustling, echoing in my ear

is perhaps the closest thing i have to death; the great expanse that simple sound holds in my heart laid empty

“just count sheep”

“but i love her”

[gospelburnout]

i wasn’t meant to feel things.

i was meant to be preserved.

the boring and permeating smell of formaldehyde

kept my skin from the release of rot.

my emotions are not meant to decay,

they stagnate.

while roadkill and other dead things get release,

the release of air against meat, against blood,

of mouth on bones,

i only stay in my skin, untouched and suspended.

but you robbed my dissection preparation chamber

in the hopes of seeing something cool, something dead,

and i fell in love with the feeling of air.

you made me bleed, made my skin crack,

you made gore stir inside me as nature picked up speed,

you watched my face fall away and saw my skull

and you said i was so gross, and you sat there.

and i fell in love with the dribble of blood,

it leaked from my cheeks when you made me blush.

my veins and proof of death and rotting, rotting organs

flashed by you within minutes, hours, days, weeks,

we were friends, you and a corpse.

my hand broke off in yours, you loved it.

i fell in love with the sky as it tinted red,

i fell in love with the pain as my bones dried, 

and according to you, you did, too.

i fell in love with the permanence of death and the promises and-

i was meant to feel things

i wasn’t meant to be trapped, so-

i fell in love with you.

[gospelburnout]

ive never been very sure of myself

staring myself down with a scrub of regret

replaying and relaying my mind and events wondering

where did i go wrong?

what if i didn’t, what if i did?

what if this had never happened, who would i be?

and would i be better off?

but not with you. not with you

every second i spend with you feels like the perfect thing to do

that’s exactly where im supposed to be

ive made every right choice i ever could have made to be lucky enough

for you

[gospelburnout]

THEY WERE ROTTING, FLESH DISSOLVING

YOUR HEART BEAT IN RHYTHM WITH THEIR DECAY

JOKINGLY, MOCKING THEM, MOCKING US

ADDING MORE PAIN TO TAKE THE PAIN AWAY

THEY WERE GRIPPED BY FEAR AND RIGOMORTIS, A CORPSE

BUT YOU ARE NOT ALIVE HERE AND WE ARE NOT DEAD ANYMORE

IM WORTH WHAT SURROUNDS ME NOW THAT WERE BETTER THAN YOU ARE

MORE THAN YOURE WORTH WHAT THEY WERE SURROUNDED WITH THEN

FEAR IS NOT DEFEAT AND DEFEAT IS NOT FOREVER

AND I WILL HEAL WHAT YOU DID TO OUR HEAD

IM BETTER OFF AND HEALTHIER AND SCARIER THAN YOUVE EVER BEEN

[gospelburnout]

You’ll wake up in a cold, black room. This is not your house, that is not your dog. She looks at you with sad never-puppy eyes and you feel shame so intense it puts your leg to sleep. While you wake it up, you’ll think about what you’ve done. You’ll think about how you forgot to grow up. You’ve been aging this whole time, and you’re scared of even that. You never had to grow up, but you sure paid the price for it. How does it feel that someone else was living in your place? You don’t think you’ll ever get back to normalcy, and never-dog agrees with you, and she smiles with her teeth, and you don’t wake up from this. You never will again, this is waking up. You’re real again, you’re real again, and you decided you need to be whether you want to or not. You will rebuild the ashes. Nothing stays broken that wasn’t meant to break, and never-paws on your always hands tell you you never really broke, you just cracked. You’ll be fine.

[gospelburnout]

when it storms, i stay inside

have you ever seen a tree? when it storms, trees stand tall until lightning strikes them down, and they last for years and years and years

i constantly shake, like im being forced by something to live in fear. i am not afraid i am not afraid i am not. yet when it storms, i stay inside

im constantly comparing myself to a bundle of joy that i will never be. i was always enveloped by anger and confusion and fear, i catch myself crying like a baby that grew up too fast, and i compare myself to a frat party. me, a glass house, daring anyone to throw a stone even though im close to breaking as it is

i am afraid i am afraid i am

i wish i was a fuckin tree, then maybe id let people see me

[gospelburnout]

in any attempt to warrant to myself needing as much help as i did, i would stare into flashlights for hours. now my eyes reflect the light i punished them with forever