From ripe to rotten

This is too real to drag;

To burn our throats to dust

We were fine

Cracking your eggshell

Box

We disillusioned our own claustrophobia

This house,

It hurts to sleep in.

Losing the melody of walking to our beds takes a toll.

You tore my face

So this kiss would fit

Numbly

Between hearts strings and corn stocks

We were made by the saturated hands of rain,

Raped at its release,

Rinsed by the cold,

Severed by the nimble fingers of winter

But we don’t feel our way through carnage and toil

We suffocate our brains

 And hide our pulse

Till this & this & this becomes a chord

Progression, Casual drinks progress to, “I don’t feel and it feels great”

I’m on the run for you & you & you

No matter where I go,

I end up where I was; rotting

Short love leads a quiet horse

Desperate hoofs clank tin

It ain’t gonna breathe quietly

Lonely dogs eat their own shit.

Wallowing, selling pity at a high price

Baby kids at neon to stores want

Till every child working sweatshops have cracked

And bled dry

We were torn between the stem of a blade of grass

Stifling through the woven fabric of punctuations

Filling voids; those empty spaces between wrinkles

We were the stars

Imploding

Running across the night sky

We all burned to know the question

But we drag our throats

On side walks

Claiming we lost our voices to dust