aim

i am furious so easily these days
i’m afraid i’ve started to grow
razorblades in my palms and a dagger
beneath my tongue that aims and
lashes out, laced with poison
i've known you for so long; i know
just where your skin is softestwhere it breaks the easiest and
like a domino, i can make you collapse
with a single flick of my hand.


these days i wake up with an urge
to set fire to the things i hold close
just to see how long it takes for them
to turn to molten ashes; for them to
run and never look back.
each morning i see your picture
and wonder if today is the day
you finally see how dark and horrible
i am; if today is the day you see
how much time you've wasted
on a lost cause.

wednesdays

on wednesdays she looks translucent

her eyes reflecting everything she sees

you have to look twice to notice her

it’s on wednesdays her bones turn brittle

her feet sinking deep into the ground

she leaves dust when she walks

on wednesdays she counts down to midnight

coils up as her hands turn ice blue

she closes her eyes and sees snow

it’s on wednesdays the mirrors are empty

and she leaves no fingerprints behind

she’s stopped touching what she can’t feel

on wednesdays she’s acting out a half-life

 just a ghost, waiting to be roused

after a day of chasing shadows

thursdays are the ones she breathes

and touches until her skin is blistered

red, like the blood pumping through her limbs

(thursdays are the reminders

you’re alive, they scream.

you’re alive.)