she has me lusting after ledges
and razor sharp edges.

she has me staring down
the barrel of a gun,
in the hopes of
undoing what’s been done.

she has me standing
with my neck
inside a rope,
because she makes me
feel as though
there’s no longer hope.

i signed a blank check
with your name on it
in pen, not because
i’m supposed to; but,
because pen is permanent,
and all i’m worth
will always be yours.

as the sun burns away the film
on my eyes when i first open them,
so does your smile.

it shows me the world
as it was meant to be seen.
a world where you smile,
a world without me.

one day,
i’ll have to tell my father
that he might outlive me.
but, today was not that day,
and it may never come.
still, he must soon know
that my body grows colder
and blood will not flow.

sometimes when you speak to me,
the sound of your words
hit my ears like buckshot,
and i swear that you can find
my scattered thoughts
plastered against the wall
like a jackson pollock.

and that’s when you think
that i’m beautiful.

i am the wrapper
you remove
and discard
in order to
find your way to
the prize you seek.

but, don’t worry,
i’ll always be there
to keep it safe
just for you.

i’m traipsing through
my memories to find
the parts that built
this new identity.
bricks and mortar,
wood and screws,
paper pyramids
over me and you.

all have risen.
all have crumbled.
and i built myself
up from the rubble.

now i feel stronger,
a whole from the parts.
bricks, metal,
mortar and bark,
with sprinklings of paper
that look like the stars
i find in your eyes
when you look at me.
they hold me together;
they have from the start.

they say that i simply have
the tendencies; but,
they don’t realize that i am
compelled, beyond any measure
of rationality, to remove myself
from this world, because
i can’t help believing that
there must be something better.

if death comes, i hope it is swift.
i hope it carries me pass your bed
to leave you a final kiss.
one that lingers, one you’ll miss.

this poetry we write,
is it not another form
of blood letting?
do we not let out
these words
to keep the sickness
of our minds at bay?

some cures
never need to change.