i. 2/5/13

sometimes,

i breathe against
the ocean and
i cannot exhale

and i cannot swim.

i am sinking, so
eloquent and i am
drowning, hands

awash in blood,
because i cannot,
i cannot.

(i am mouthing the
words, teeth clinging
and breathing fractured
under bedsheets.

i am sinking)

because i cannot swim.

ii. 2/5/13

quiet now love, he whispers against
my hair. so tragically breathing
like we belong to one another. take my
heart and my hand; who needs chivalry
when you have fucking against cold
walls and solid unsteady promises.

you need to drink it all, you need to
take this in, before i take it all away.
who decides when the stars shine and
when the moon suggests that it’s night
now; who decides that god was a three
letter word for all mighty, and a synonym
for humanity living underneath a pedestal.

the wind is waging war on the leaves, 
singing the lyrics to destruction and the
man who pulls down the trees. you have to
be quiet whilst they take your words and
leave your lips quivering. i thought i saw
a man that had a heart of stone, feet of
grass and a face of a cliff edge. but he is
gone, whispering and waiting.