The sky is blacker than I have ever seen
Stars that once glimmered now drowned
On the horizon—your eyes gleam
A body not quite human. Not quite hound.

There's a dryness to this Arizona air
That parches me through my very core
Your body is broken beyond repair
My vacant stare—avoiding your twisting form

Your shadow cast from light unseen
Screams tearing when no one's around
Please stop crawling. Get away from me.
Please stop making those nauseating sounds.

You have nothing that we could share
But somehow I too am not human—anymore
Your body is dead save for this piercing stare
Drawing bile from the holes that they bore

Your claws are surprisingly painless
But maybe I just cannot feel anymore
I finally admit that I was always lifeless
My life is not yours to take anymore

November 21, 2023

It doesn't go to the bone—it goes
Further—and deeper. Than one will ever know
Too scared to even think in first person more like
The unraveling from human to walking open wound

Piercing beyond the core of being
Like someone grabbing the lungs and—
Twisting. Choking the life out
While oxygen reaches them just fine

What's left could hardly be considered a body
But what was there before was hardly human at all
Anatomy becomes theory and the mind becomes
More machine than memory

When the world is quiet I can hear
A radio buzzing somewhere I can't find
Droning words almost intelligible and almost
Human. Almost.

I don't expect to be understood. What's here could not
be described in any terms I have ever known
Should not be described. Should be forever left alone
Organism that should have never been allowed to grow

There are no words to describe just how
Vast and deep the chasm has grown
What once was a body has become machine
What once was life has become disease

November 13, 2023

Once there was life, and soon there will only be me

Beautiful thing of glass and bones
Metal sutures binding shards into one
You don't belong here. But now you make a
Beautiful mosaic of refracting lights

Beautiful mosaic of bones and flesh
Do you glow the same when light shines through?
You're no work of art, yet you're still
On display for the world to gawk and behold

I've been thinking about life
Moreso—what makes something alive
How can something evoke such emotion and not
Be considered a living thing—?

Beautiful thing of glass and bones
Maggots will never reclaim you
You could be dropped and shattered, or you
Could be eroded with time

But your death will never be as ugly as mine

November 11, 2023

You've become a god
If only in the way I can only believe
That you exist somewhere beyond this morning sky
I don't know when we will meet again

I don't know where

But one fateful day I will transcend these aching clouds
And find my salvation
In your arms
Free from a world that was not made for me

I don't know when we will meet again

I don't know how
But I can feel the world ripple and fold
My fingers slip through the fragile reality of night
Shadows bending like half truths half spoken

My voice is something that crackles and wavers
A broken radio hidden beneath my ribcage
A gap in my memory. Weight breaking my bones
I don't know when we will meet again

But I know it will happen
For all the things I see of a world that's not here
What's real but not here
What's mine but long gone

I don't know how

To understand the things I see
Shadows with meaning beyond understanding
Smears of paint more like
Almost an image but too gut wrenching to be art

It's something nauseating
To feel my being come undone
To feel my ribs wrenched out of me one by one
I don't know when we will meet again

I don't know.

November 11, 2023

I wake to find myself standing—in the sand
Salt burning in my throat like bile, rising
In indigo twilight—I can feel—your hands—
My skin burns raw in the tempest you command

A derelict lighthouse which never stops shining
Soft light that circled—circles—between you and I
Can you even hear the way my body is creaking?
Hear, the way my hollow bones are grieving?

The prince is dead! The prince is spray and foam.
The prince is saltwater bubbling red around my feet
I stand on the Precipice as judge who'd never known
The Sea is executioner—and I am alone.

Waves swell with my heartbeat. Where is my mind?
In my chest someone begs me to go—back inside.
My body is hollow. The waves seem so light
They slam on the rocks in a beat I can't find

I don't remember when I first moved
It was struggle, then it was sleep
I yearned so desperately for your reprove
That I let water tear me open where tide and sky meet

The prince is dead, but the beast is gone too
My body was bone and blood and pain and nothing good like you

The same song and dance. I run as far as I can
And sleep will betray me—return me to your keep
Each morning I wake, half buried in sand
Each night I choke on saltwater, begging for sleep

September 21, 2023

I can only look in horror
Disbelief
As you erupt like flames into the night sky
Scorched wings extending for eternity
Blinding white against the consuming void of night

I wish that were me
Giving into my grief
And dying with that guttural scream and that dreadful flash of light

November 7, 2022

Everything in existence leads back to you. Every galaxy, every star, every atom is just an extension of you—a particle caught in your gravity, clawing desperately away from you. You leave no light and you take no prisoners; you have no interest in life or beauty. Nothing matters and nothing could ever change, because once you're finished tearing through this world, everything will be the same. Everything will be black matter and cosmic dust and you will swallow all of it whole in your wake. You are the beginning and the end. You are everything.

Your body is stardust and your eyes are galaxies in their own paradoxical way. In time, your ribcage begins to crack against the asteroids ricocheting within you. In everything you destroy, new life is created within you. You are the rapture. You open Heaven's gates. You take everything that is good and bring it to a darker place. A mother, and a murderer. Everything you feared you'd become. A haunting violin melody drawling in your memory. Remnants of what once was there—still within in, but broken and beyond your own perception. Life continues on without you. Stumbling in the dark because every particle of light is compartmentalized within you. You're alone. You are so, so alone.

... Why?

You realize that you no longer remember how you came to be. You no longer know how you wound up on this path, how this became your fate. Destroyer of worlds and of self. Why did you do this to yourself? [Why did I do this to myself?]

You repeat: You're alone. So horribly—terribly—agonizingly alone. The violin melody grows faint. The black hole that you've become has finally begun to consume even your own memories—your own being. Soon, you will collapse in on yourself, unceremoniously and soundlessly, and no one will notice. Whatever happens after that does not matter. There will be nothing. No memory of something.

You did this to yourself. [I did this to myself.] There is no one to blame but yourself. In desperation, you cling to Heaven's gates. God scoffs and looks the other way. You abandoned him, so he returns the favor. There is nothing. You cry. You cry. You cry. You're fading away, and no one will ever miss you. No one ever even knew you.

The violin stops before the resolution.

November 3, 2022

I wake up cold. Electricity humming above my head. Dull room with only the slightest traces of green against the wall. A brown world. A fading memory.

Water running in the sink. Tile wall. Staring into the mirror with nothing staring back. Nothing staring back.

Water running in the sink.

The radio hardly works anymore. Through the static and distortion is the broken words of a prayer. I hold onto each word desperately. I can barely piece them together anymore. I miss it. I miss it.

Water running in the sink.

I wake up cold. Water running in the sink. Someone covered the mirror and I can't look through it anymore. Can't stare desperately as I wait for something, anything to look back at me. Where am I? Where am I?

I wake up cold. Curled up on the bathroom floor. Someone shattered the mirror and all I can see in the shards is my own bloodied face staring wildly back at me. I don't know who you are.

Water running in the sink. Water running red in the sink.

The radio doesn't work anymore. Not a single word makes it through the static. I sit for hours in quiet desperation. Where are you? Where are you?

I wake up cold. The world is darker today. Electricity humming above my head. Today it follows me. Electricity humming like a halo over my bloodied head.

The voices of angels are coming through the radio again. It was never broken. I just needed time to learn their language. Now they whisper sickening and beautiful promises to me. I'm so desperate for them. I'm so desperate for anything.

Water running red in the sink.

I wake up cold on the floor. Pain. Radiating through every worthless atom in my body. Water running red through my home. A home with blood coursing through the walls. Electricity humming around my body like thirteen angels waiting patiently for my recourse. Pain radiating through every worthless fucking atom in my body. Today is the day of salvation.

The floor is cold. I let myself fall asleep.

November 3, 2022