Today I watched as your poison lies ribboned around my intestines dissolving them with a black acid. Today I was sick of your petty crime and wanted a life bigger then guns and sex (like passion and murder). Today I was told my metaphors were too large and my imagery too vivid for an adult to understand and too dark for a child to read.
The days are blurring together and I can barely see past all the haze. The worst part is when you go from seconds to months and then fade into years. I wished you could catch me but your faded ink skin can barely hold the feather quill you once carried.
I decided today that showers are better then baths because when tears run down your face you can't feel the difference. And when you are sitting on your shower floor under the hot water hoping your skin will disintegrate, your organs will evaporate and your bones will melt. Maybe just maybe the pain of all the memories you loved will be burned away from you.
Four of the little birdies who fly together whispered: "come play with me. We'll drift on currents of air and catch all the whispered prayers on a wind." But one little birdie whispered so softly: "run away with me. Run away and I promise you'll have more then air currents and whispered prayers. I promise you'll have the touch of god to save you and a nest safe from storms." Too bad I was never a bird. Because that offer was the best one made.
But all this isn't real. And you are a fiction made up of fairy tales and puppy dog tails. I just wish we could be more then dreamers and more faithful then a broken heart.
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