[silentsuggestions]

one day i'm going to find someone who will adore me for my coffee breath and the moments when i flicker between wanting to avoid the stimulants or taking too many in an ill advised manner and how i want want want after anyone with a pretty face and kind eyes and a nice laugh but promise still to cling tight

but for now i'm a sick kid jealous of the experiences my peers have while i'm stuck in doctors offices or between the need not to keep existing this way and the knowledge of the repercussions if i do, confused if i want love or to spend my life living like an addict in the crumbling infrastructure of this town and my body

and it's lonely but it will do because even if they aren't out there waiting i'll scream my heart out onstage and trash my friends in board games and learn the ways to make my body soar

i'm learning to survive this and hoping for someone that will survive me too

[silentsuggestions]

sometimes when the boys who hold galaxies in their mouths swallow they get caught in their throat like sunflower seeds and they tear themselves apart to try to stop them before they bloom but it never works and the boys with the galaxies turned sprouting sunflowers stuck in their throat fall for the first pretty boy who smiles their way and it grows too fast with gnashing teeth and quick fingers and they leave their windowsill gardens unattended until the roots push their way through their rib cages and let them crack because their love is too great their love is too much their love will not survive the winter

[silentsuggestions]

i’m loving every fight and fracturing my own ribs, breaking open my chest to dissect my heart

take out everything holy ; examine the hymns written in sinew, taste sugar violets in mid july, scream guttural at the memories of the way i touched them all like they belonged in the pantheon

rip away the softness. no more trembling shoulders or recreations of the mississippi in salt at every pitched tone. forget how to lay down on the alter and present a blade of white tail antler and redwood for every boy who cries wolf

pick apart every memory of the aching and place the blood on their tongues as if they were coming to my service - as if they are sheep and i am the sheppard with a blade tipped crook

and here we play savior to the rot. every manipulative, destructive tendency, the ability to burn bridges, houses, cities with only my tongue. take the whithered apple core and place it between my lungs - even i am astonished at how beautifully it beats

and here we strike three books of matches and burn down the girl i used to be, forget every damn childhood memory. rebuild myself from the ashes, bigger but make no assumptions about better. name myself son of prometheus and promise to disappoint my father

“i’m sorry dad i know your tools were meant for good but i am not a tool”

i am a weapon. name me tool of destruction. name me evil

i’ll have rotted from the inside out by the time the words pass your lips

[silentsuggestions]

can we pretend to be normal kids just for a minute? steal whatever liquor we can smash it to our teeth and pretend not to grimace as we look at the lights from the roof. pretend we don’t want to step out too far. touch and love and pretend like we haven’t been broken. we’re both addicted to hurting and all i can think about is canabis and the alcohol content of vodka and the best way to split my veins and how i can’t say no to you. but can we pretend this is just a bad dream? can we pretend it doesn’t hurt to breathe?

[silentsuggestions]

you hit the blood before you see her body and is it funny how her ribcage is borne to the bite of winter sinking its fangs through october’s faded aorta is it an organic metaphor for how we can only let the reality show in the moment before the cold takes our breath too

[silentsuggestions]

fucked up on a rough childhood and sense of entitlement you stole my heart and i fell back, gave you what you asked as the type i've always had to be. no right to be bitter when you're broken glass but maybe i'm just fresh cocoa mascarading as its refined form

[silentsuggestions]

my bones grind together and my synapses fire not like they should but like a gunshot. like the hadron collider. to think is to suffer, to feel is an experience i try to avoid. now you're the space between my ribs and i don't know if that's making it easier to breathe or pulling them closer to caving in

[silentsuggestions]

it's two words i find myself repeating with no presence or peace of mind but they're true because i know i'm not loving you like i'm supposed to. i know i'm not everything everyone has always wanted me to be. i know i'm wasting away but all i've ever been good for is feeling a five letter word that starts with an 's'. i'm too tired of saying it. i'm too tired of knowing i'll never express how much it's true.

[silentsuggestions]

icarus as a love story, icarus as a devotee

see the wax drip down his

sun bleached bones

and his

fingers curl tight around cobblestone and

wrought iron

the nights before

and his

tongue twining around

"father you loved my mother enough to take the chance

to rot here with me

but i

love him enough that to fall to the sea

in his absence

is all i could ask"

[silentsuggestions]

let's feast on adderal and get fucked up on divinity i can show you the music i've always wanted to get fucked to and when your gaze shifts past anything here i find teeth to skin works like a charm for pretty boys too fucked up to know how it's all supposed to go

[danger]

[silentsuggestions]

i don’t feel right. and what i mean is there’s a disconnect, a glass wall between me and the emotions. i feel fine. normal, at least. feel like i’m swimming in my own skin, a ghost with no solid form, varying in my visibility. i’ve grown accustomed to it.

there’s a part of me that aches at the loss of intensity. wants after the return of the breaking the shattering the sobbing, shaking panic. inflicting pain only so it’s not so intense. last time it was so i could feel at all.

he says he took the whole bottle and i think of the two. the list of side effects. the citrine and burning glass bottle to wash them down. and how strange it is that i’m not sure that i want it to work, that i crave the attention and the sick and - i’m fine. it’s normal. i’m fine. i’m drowning and i’m caring for my other half and for my moon and wishing i could bask in his glory. i consider bleeding out for his attention. i’m fine. i don’t feel right. i’m fine.

[silentsuggestions]

i crack open my ribs so you can suck out the bone marrow, taste the way my heart beats, see the blood polluted with the wrong kind of love and violence. when you’re done my breath catches (watch the way my diaphragm falters, stills as i let myself forget to breathe) and i let myself say “if it’s true you only love me for the way my tongue wraps around words of lust and absolution i forgive you but my ribs only remember how to be sacrificial daggers and if it’s true you need to drive them through my lungs”

i wait impatiently for the puncture wound

[silentsuggestions]

my joints ache so thoroughly i’m not sure i could move but let me wrap my arms around you and i know i’ll feel like i could do anything

[silentsuggestions]

runaway boys. oh how the air stings their lungs when they make their break and oh how it burns like a promise like the way the bullet rips through his chest. they hold lies on their tongues and learn how to fight - for each other and for themselves and for the glory of traitors blood in their jawbones. their ambition scrapes the clouds but there is no shadow to be cast.

[silentsuggestions]

the thing about him pt. 1

[silentsuggestions]

everyone's smiling, laughing, joyous and i'm thinking —

if the universe returns to you what you put into it, am i facing my damnation for what i did to you? is my punishment to recover but know i will never deserve this happiness, this masochists dream?