A glass has come between me and reality.
This glass encapsulates my being.
The longer I remain in the glass,
the hazier my view becomes.
How I long to shatter it.

The glass has held me captive for quite some time,
and I realize I have come to know the glass like no other.
The glass has protected me from the strange outer world.

I have come to long for the glass which holds me.
But when I reach for the glass,
all I feel is bleak
and yet still my hand is left with nothing.

I cannot grasp the glass
because I cannot see the glass itself,
only what it is not.

there is sadness, yes
but not in the breath-
stealing sobs you
            expect.

it comes in quiet
      absence

in the sound of the shower
with no music to
drown
        it
     out

in the loss of laughter
        between
smiles    and words

and

in the way weight
     shifts   to avoid
     touching  m o r e
        skin than necessary

All I can think about
Are the things we would do
If I had moved the mountains
That buried you
I pieced you back together
With shrapnel from the glass
Stained with the pigment
From under my eyes  
Restless from this rustling wind
Anxious and bitter cold
I feel like the whistle
That rings in your ear
As you lay there
Under the weight
Of broken words  
Trying to forget the sunrise
That looms too close
With your sleep captive
In its marmalade palm

There must be madness swirling inside me
My stomach aches
A sickly urge in the back of my throat
I imagine it whirls around in my blood
Surging through my body like morphine
It spreads to my hands at first
A tremble of my fingers slipping glass from my hold
It glitters before my eyes
i feel it travel to my forearms creeping up into my biceps
Scars reopen and red spills
My fingers now coated in crimson
Then it's clogged my chest all to fast
It's getting harder to breathe but still my lungs fill with air
Heart squeezing, ribs popping out of place
Yet my body stays the same
From there it splits in two ways
One drips down into my stomach
then pooling in my feet and weighing me down
The other creeps up my neck
Taking the oxygen from my head
It starts to spill out my eyes
In tears of panic
And i remember the ways to stay sane
None of them work now
Nothing is working now

I don't know if it's a deity
or the DMT
DMing me
that it's my enemy
and that it sent me this
feeling of emptiness
in blank fields with no flowers
or green grass
just concrete towers
and broken glass
digging into my feet
agony during delete
dragging me to a steep
cliffside leap
this gift I reap
and drift to sleep
until I can't leave
the unending sea
bending me
its entropy
entering
like a centipede
frenetically
slinking down my spine
like a vulpine down a vine
no wine
or ****
can slow down its speed
no way to impede
what makes me bleed
which makes me seethe
seething to believe
there's nothing underneath
my broken glass feet
just an ash heap
I'll see lastly
before passing.

swallowing honey won't make the glass shards go down easier
honey's still got a sting that sings
when it meets open sores
can't heal when honey drips from my lips
sugar can't make sweet what needs to be blunt