#poeticallyprofane

There are so many small deaths in life.

Occasions where your body trudges on,

While your soul remains there in the mud,

And in those moments you become

Something, someone, somewhere .

There was an occasion, once,

Where I dipped my heart in gold,

Wrapped it, in finest silk,

And placed in a chest, for you.

It died there,

Dried out, forgotten, old.

And so, perhaps, did I.

The fires that consumed me

Remained inside,

My body, my tomb, my prison.

You are the final resting place

For every good thing

That ever could have bloomed in me.

I would name you winter

For your arrival drove my soul to wilt,

But it did not bloom again in spring.

The fields were barren in summer.

By fall we all starved to death,

And when winter returned

There was no evidence at all

That we were ever there.

There are so many small deaths in life.

Occasions where I love you means distant fondness,

And I'm done means you have stolen everything that I had left to offer,

And in those moments you become

Rotten, bitter, evil,

I have loved you for longer than you've touched me

But my skin still remembers you

It sings your name at midnight, sadly

An addict suffering through a 10 year withdrawal

I've shed so many skin cells you've probably never touched an inch of me

I think, sometimes, that God forgot about me. I cry about it most nights, Screaming my sorrow to heaven. I think He left me in the closet with His winter coats, But it’s hot and I’m tired,  And I just want to be left alone.

There are any number of people you could have bothered. Stable people, Who still dared to hope and dream. Yet, you chose to journey to the ends of the earth Just to bother me.

My rage is justified

And that's frightening.

There's this fire

That I have stoked,

In shame.

And here comes you,

My favorite nightmare,

With fire and brimstone.

And, finally, I am a star.

Finally, the dawn rose with my rage.

Finally, the light in my mind

Came from within.

My radiant temperature is 3000°

And I might just die from this.

I might implode from the pain,

Might dry up and crumble.

But I haven't yet.

I'm just alive and in tears,

And you are fucking terrible.

You are fucking terrible.

You are so fucking terrible,

Wilting, I reach

For the sun, my mind

For you

But my hands have crumbled

And my face has fallen

And the last thing I can see

Is a waxing moon

Coldly glowing

As bright as it is absent

Like my life

There is a certain twinge I get in my brain when I'm right/Like a dull whine that becomes a twitch that becomes a person sitting across from me with an evil smile/I'm not saying I'm going to destroy you/I'm saying I am too intelligent not to plot/And you do not want to end up on the other side of it

I was sitting quietly taking my meds and going to therapy before this/Now I'm unmedicated still reeling from my first suicide attempt in years/And I want everyone dead/And you, my dear sweet interruption/I want to see you torn to shreds and melting through my fingers

I fight the good fight everyday/I keep my mouth shut/I keep my hands to myself/I go home/I get drunk/And I go to sleep/And all of the mayhem that bit at the edges of my mind become another "what if" no one cares about

My book/My baby/My entire life's goal, it seems/Lies in a heap on my desk/A thousand glass shards that I hope will fit together/But I can't seem to pick up the pieces/I find myself too busy playing with knotted ropes/Trying to untangle you and I

You menace/You brute/You mistake I make again and again/I rebuke you for all that you've broken me/For all that you took the pen from my hand and robbed me of my words/For all that my heart was in my chest when you met me and now....

I don't enjoy things anymore/The world is gray/Food tastes like dust on my tongue/My book/My baby/Bores me to tear/I have been stripped of all the best parts of me and I'll never know where you put them/You menace/You brute/You angel