my bipolar forcast says
"drought" in capital letters.
melting the wax together
into a puddle of something
not so beautiful.. but glistening
as if it has potential.

and it's sad to see that my
heart is beating on the outside..
drizzling down the contoure of
my chest.. throbbing through
the cracks in my sternum.

look away.. i'm ashamed of
what i've come to..
lacking the fluid to fill
a heart.. and my aorta
refuses to pulse.. sets
angrily on my abdomen in
confused withdrawl.

when words seem worthless..
plagues of dead mice come
closing in on me. and i'm
dying for your endless breath..

grasping for your hand..
flesh gnawed from my fingers..
feces fill my lungs..
and i'm drowning in filth.

if this is my redemption,
i'm damned. i'm suffocating
and the sentences don't seem
to come out right... my lines
are raw from wear and my
teeth have rotted from my jaw.

i'm swelling up and you're looking
down at me..
pathetic at my best.

numbling looking up but
still droughting for the phrases i need
to save myself.

you speak in tongues..
lend me a hand..
cough up reasons for me to live.
and i'm gritting my teeth...

refusal in every expression
.. so love me.
i'm grounding myself as
i find the words..
lifting your heart
for the things you're doing
for me..
i'm loving you for your
every graceful glance..

grasping your hand..
paining my flesh-eaten
fingers..
and i'd kiss you if i wasn't so
ashamed..
speak for you.. but my voice
is frail and unworthy.

so keep me.. bundle me up
and bring me back to life.

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