time stretches and chokes.
what turns the hours can take;
sutinance in forms of words
draw us in, and wrap the dawn
around our backs.
everything you said,
all the revamp, expression, progress
spilling off your tongue,
each of these day to day malfunctions
are catching.
repair will move us forward before i realize
that i can't give everything
you deserve from me.
maybe i should close my eyes for a few more hours
just to feel something real.

we run in circles
through streaming boughs
of daylight
until we don't know who we are anymore
and start all over again.
we writhe between dreams
coming up short,
acutely aware
that these moments in which
we lie upward facing the stars,
covered thick with layers of
an afternoon heat;
these moments dissipate
as quickly as
the smoke that spills and falls
from our cherrywhite lips.

it's all fine
(everything in my head is all just a bunch
of inane banter)
childish, i know.
suffice to say
it fits.
i don't even want to know what it is anymore
that makes me turn
because some time off would be nice.
i can't watch my sorrows drown
in the bottom of someone else's bottle
anymore.
to be dry is lonely
but of sound mind is beauty.
all of this is just scraps of what i wanted to say;
you'll never hear me say it.
the only word you'll hear instead is
lachrymose.

silence spills across a page
listless like beauty
and solemn like the thick stifling heat in this room.
your voice is heavy
tomorrow fills yesterday with regret and
.i'm sorry.
let me take a few more hours
of self medication
before you drown yourself.
censorship is dark and brooding
(i know you'll read this and think it's about you)
it is.
all of it.
my silence is salted and lost
-give me a few more days-
before you drown yourself with prioritized confusion
and i justify my irrationality that i convinced myself i had
i'm full with it
everything
plane tickets and words lost in a drunken gargle
to the way it feels to wake up
7:30 on a sunday morning
after an hour of sleep and a fat lip
(at least that's what i told you)
so tomorrow comes and i'm pensive
adrift and disoriented
not knowing what to say the the myriad hearts i am always tending
like paper dolls
i don't know what to tell you
except that time is of the essence and the essence preceeds me
i can't be here long
so i think i might just float away for a while
and lose myself in the knot
you left in my throat.

i am left wayward
as you told me you remembered just to please me
just to leave me disillusioned and silent.