FailureI've lost my dreamIt's shattered, goneI stand here with shards surrounding meDreams of a futureA career and happinessgone and I'm left here hopelessSo once again,I turn to the bladeto find it gone. I thought I'd recoveredI was denied my hopeit laughs in my faceDeath, is what I want.
there's something fatal about coughing up verse.i got written up for writing poetry on the desksat school.i don't think they liked the language i usedwhen i wrote how my heart was beatinglike headboards against the walls of people fuckingat 3 am to the sounds of joy divisionwhenever you read me paintings at dawn.they were going to send me to the counselor,but i said my therapist probably wouldn't like that,so they just let me go.but this saturday, when i'm cleaning lives off of every desk in school,i'll just be thinking how much i'd rather be sitting on your roofand laughing when we argue about rimbaudand sighing as we start to die.
let's lay down and watch the sky fall.i've taken on the habit of latching my watchon the sixth-to-last notch so that it's too loose for my wristand every time i reach up to tame your mound of auburn hair behind your eartime slips away from meand we can entangle ourselves in the possibility of forever in its absence.
rain.i still have buckets in my roomfrom when you poured your heart out.plastic pails full of pain and loveand lust and tears and names and smiles.i don't know why i keep them...maybe i hope one day you'll come backto claim them.or when i'm being really dumbi let myself hope that you'll come back anywayfor me.