another 6 am through swollen eyes
a mind void of care to hours passing
with strings gently playing set to loop
a ghost of beauty once known gone forever
singing sweetly with mocking knives


fool am i to think i deserved such grace
i was never really victorious in anything
i can’t tell if my tears are born from the music
or just my heart experiencing hemophilia
maybe both but i can’t stop it anyway


one more hour until the sun will burn through
and i wonder if the clouds will be screeching then
like me false calm breathing in stinging air
move and drift in routine movements
silently screaming in tones no one can hear


a little bird of summer told me to keep faith
sweet and full of love she worries too much
so many souls that deserves more attention
keeping my shattered pieces in a little box
holding them safe with her eyes of hope


an night angel painted me in words like her smile
telling me sadness should not be my color
but pretty hues never did stick well in the rain
other than the mythic bird carved into my back
wings are better left to the seraphim as she shines


thirty six hours and three packs gone
looking for zen and infinity in the smoke
my lungs might object if i were actually breathing
watching curls of tomorrow roll off the end
killing myself a little faster in a slow way


gods know i am already half dead
and my words are not beautiful









just the sound of a kiss expiring

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