ghoulscout

my arms used to fall off

because i'd forgot to hold them

and i'd rip off my lips

try to make people eat them

bite teeth marks in pills

meant to swallow

feel myself

deteriorate

while everything in this room

makes noises

changing the battery of your car

while speeding down the free way

exchanging all of my organs

while trying to breathe for us both

fading into the season change

slipping through your finger tips, mid-prayer

replacing your good luck charm 

with apologies

the very last of 

i like the taste of tears

spit residue

consumes the cracks 

in the corners of my mouth

i don't care enough

to dislike it

or 

have shame

i'm 

too exhausted

i'm

too busy writing

about absolutely nothing

i think at this point

i'm writing a painfully long letter to myself

but not really

because i already know what it says

more so, i am participating in a conversation with myself

on paper

instead of

inside my head

like i usually do

my head's filled with nothing

mirroring these pages

nothing 

but this horrible headed-nowhere conversation

i'm unsure

if it makes me crazy by definition

or

crazy by persuasion 

i dont know

what i'm saying

i don't know

is there really no danger?

skewed dual belief system

sane or not sane?

people do drown

everything, we contaminate

in one way or another

collapse, cave

drudge, toil

disabled

detached

avoiding the past

harm!

distress!

there is always a risk

mine,

so disproportionate 

make a fool out of me

buffering yourself

won't change anything

how considerate, avoiding it

everything that i fear is normal

but to you

minuscule,

i am delusional,

in reality, it is much too horrible

  derived anguish

this, i will not outgrow

retain, expose

retain, expose

retain, expose

retain, expose

the course of time

this repetition,

i have been so patient

despite this,

it remains evident

in every single question,

always the same reaction,

you identify me as the victim

do you become shallow

or do i deepen?

it is puzzling,

it is vivid

i recoil into my existence

it is a contradiction,

how i wish for your dominance,

how i reinforce it

i don't want to disappoint you

the way i have disappointed them

i am not angry,

i am grieving the loss 

of my control

interweaving 

your presence

with security

consequently,

closing myself off,

letting parts of myself decay

i will break

black combat boots and vinyl

cigarettes and coffee

with torn up pairs of stockings

wes anderson films and sylvia plath poems

spending saturday nights in your bedroom alone

video chat sites with people you don’t know

facial piercings and tattoos of cartoon idols

instagram posts of iphone notes