that there should be so much more to this room than the flood of green paper and the eyes of the sky that float overhead waiting for me to cry out at long, long last i'm spent & it's over & i will take the blame. because something scared me tonight; between the thought & the movement of my hand, the realisation & the pain i kept on reserve.

clocks strike all these hidden hours where i'd slept amongst seraphs & all the debris long before you could comprehend that i was just a face without rain.

i'd die in my dreams if i could,
just to end them,
just to say i had some control.
just to have some fucking control.

& it's all a disguise in the end,
take a bow, your curtain call.
i will wait until there is
an audience of one.

circles or patterns where the transparent blooms fell into the sea. i saw you there. i'm sure. if only i had read a midnight philosophy? it was written in black ink.

& every part of me has to ache.
cold, shivering violently
violently
violently.

can you die from shivering too hard?

the chairs smell of stale like i'd never left, like the world was closing in. for all my indecision i never once held the truth. not remotely, mutely, ever.

we reach for the arches that dive into the earth.

i'm some kind of counterfeit.
i'm some kind of girl.

fault could find
a home inside my
chest, so i
could burst
when i
failed.

veiled in a secret feeling or two,
the sharpness of your gaze.
i'm a fool.

i can say it out loud,
with the clarity of
a cloud.

((i hate myself when i have to exist))