December of '09

I'm disintegrating.

Flowers die like half truths off your tongue
and I chisel my collar bone to my shoulder blades
hoping the wind and feathers will take me
to the mist that only lives in the midst of lies.
Is it so bad that I just want to die
with no reason at all for dying?
People live for dark matter,
you don't need to see to know
that something shouldn't be there
that is.
I have reasons to breathe
and I have reasons to see
and be and I have my own
f*****g gravity
but it's gray.
and I'm so tired of being gray
and rubbing together shoulder blades
to believe in lies that rain on my parade.
Heaven and hell are stories we tell ourselves
so dark matter is visible and justified
because our minds are rotting
and our joints are pained
and our hearts get taken away.
I have no reason to die
but, I don't feel alive.
Porcelain skin and sin are not the only
leftovers in this place.
Pandora should have stayed in the box
it was more peaceful in there.
There were no disintegrating shoulder blades
of lost souls pretending to carry their hearts
on sleeves and possessions on chains
and liars giving their eyes away.