away.

threaded insides full of
paper shreds and
unfinished sentences
uninspired ink blots like
blood, my veins are
dull as white painted walls
i bite my lip and
taste a bitter something
sour, something sad
the light flutters coldly
eyes vain as whirlpools
empty as static
shallow as my lungs



silence.


thick knotted sadness
abandoned places
crumbling houses
inwardly drooping, a
flower wilting was my spirit

i am nothing
will i ever be anything?
will i [n]ever be anything?

melt like discarded snowcones
in the ground, unpretty
hearts that don't mean anything

alone in a well-lit room
it eats me up from the insides