i need you.
in a way so intensely grotesque, in the way a murderer needs to kill.
in the way an alchoholic needs one more shot.
i need you.
in such an unbearable way, i shake when i hear your name.
my eyes grow wide and my stomach twists itself into a disgusting knot.
i need you.
my need grows teeth. it devours me, it scarfs me up like a rabid starving dog.
desparate, violent.
i need you.
even while i am dying and rotting,
the need still gnaws at my bones.


what did i do to deserve this?
its a question ive asked over and over again.
the heavy weight of it filling me with burning hot coals.
the sound of it buzzing around my head like hundreds of flies.
everything becomes more unbearable when i see you dragging around that rotting sack of flowers.
staring at it with such joy and wonder, picking at the petals one by one with such amounts of love its almost pitiful.
you dont seem to notice that the flowers are beginning to go bad.
or maybe you do. maybe that will explain the ever so subtle forlorn look right under your eyes.
i see you. ive always seen you.
but your flesh upon my bone has been slipping away,
and although my lips have been stained with your name,
the flies buzz louder
and the coals get hotter
and the flowers you love ever so dearly will continue to rot
and rot
and rot.


its sunday morning and im staring at the chapstick stained picture of you on
my wall and grief is tapping on the window. i list five things i remember about you
and five things i cant. i wonder if you have mornings like these, when the
room is quiet and the night was quiet and the only noise is the faint
scratching from within your bones.
its sunday morning and im holding myself on the kitchen floor. i ask god
to answer my prayers again, he doesnt. i ask for silence. i ask to be alone. i ask
to be rid of my body and be rebuilt in a way you could love. he does not answer.
he will not answer.
its sunday morning and im lighting the candle that smells like bittersweet
and melancholy and you. i realize how i dont need you anymore and i pick
more flowers than a vase can hold. i think of how the moon will look tonight,
and i wonder if we'll look at it at the same time. i think i want you more than anything.
its sunday morning and the distant hum-buzz of regret in my brain does not stop.
despite my efforts to deep clean the dirty corners the wallpapers will not stop yellowing and
the pictures will not come down. the flowers have started to become overgrown.
its sunday morning and im okay. the sky is smiling and the trees whisper their sweet secrets
as i count all the colors i can see. this off-white shirt is becoming grass stained and im
starting to remember how to love. theres so much to say in such little time it almost makes me want
to scream, scream into the infinitely vast and ever growing atmosphere for all the angels to hear.
i want to tell them about you.
i want to tell them how much i love you.