my head is ticking
tick tick tick
i wonder if its because the pills i downed
with ice and bathroom water
are making me shake so hard, my brain is trembling
against my skull
concussion
tick tick tick
i can barely hold myself upright at dinner
my eyelids drip onto my plate
and my body aches like a train used it for a
doormat
tick tick tick
maybe its life telling me,
in its own way,
that the time is drawing near,
and these ticks are the distant
footsteps of the end


*tick tick tick

the smallest things make me want to sink to my
knees and scream;

my mothers shiny new black boots,
she's treating herself okay,
she never thinks
about herself,
she's done something about it for once.

i'd never thought that I would lose my virginity on a small couch in my friends living room.
but then again.
i'm not one to think about things, just rush into them like a stubborn headed hammer, breaking things along the way.
id never thought that I would run out of the house with purple, naked feet crushing the ice underneath me like small bones, in the middle of a black December silence.
and it was nice seeing a 2 am silhouette at the end of my road, cigarette in hand like always, your breath a steady stream of white, drowning me in an ocean of nicotine.
and I was high and you were drunk,
and I slipped and kissed your wine tinted lips,
and our skin made a forest fire, as we tangled ourselves in the crackle of a wood burning stove,
and the silent tread of snow on the sleeping town.

we are nothing but skin and bones

filled with fact and fiction.