on this day.

in this world.

i. IN THIS WORLD.

we build these marble statues out of battle wounds. write our names in the stars so we are never forgotten. bleed out in hope that we stain the tiles that lay before us.

we do this all in desire of dying knowing we are remembered.

bellowing out in pain not for attention but for comfort. splitting wrists open, a razor blade following the trail of veins hiding behind porcelain skin, all to watch as these inner demons swim in crimson that should fear us, yet with it in sight, gives us the safety of knowing where it all ends.

dipping toes in snow covered lakes, watching the ashes of mother's cigarettes blow with the autumn wind. crossing fingers and wishing on stand still stars that we wake up not feeling like a burden like we had the morning of today, and yesterday, and the day before that.

whisper goodnight to a god unheard of. listen to the rain hit the window and slide down the see through glass in a state of panic of not knowing what's to come. what we feel like now.

taking the stars that have fallen from our saddened eyes and placing them back home hoping that maybe one day, the universe will mistaken us as one and bring us back home. finally be something, someone, up in the constellations where we belong. watching the sun rise over the hill as we pull a smile on our face in desire of feeling happy for once.

trying,
just trying to be okay.
and finally feel alive.

empty skeletons wearing skin that holds no meaning
the only indication that we are human is the way our heart sinks into the depth of our stomach the second we realize who we are not meant to be.

counting the matter of time it takes to fall asleep with a vacant chest heaving up and down only because we continue to allow it.

wanting the satisfaction of feeling free as the wind blows through our hair and our fingers wiggle outside open car windows. finding a way out of misery and bad luck when it's all we've ever known. drowning in the sorrow land while you hear people continue to swim in the oceans waves of glory and all it's ever going to give.

floating above clouds one minute and the next, feeling the heaviness in your feet as we stand tall and reach for mars. stare at our fingertips in a dark room, seeing picasso's lines in the palms of your hands.

roses dangle from a glass vase no longer holding water for flowers took it for granted and swallowed it all in one gulp than saving it for tomorrow.

we, we are these roses, growing closer to death because of greed considering it's all we know how to do when we are free from our mother's womb and have it inked into our blood. attention seeking, agony sketched into our ribs for every beat our heart sings causes us to cry out in pain.

we all just want to feel something. 
love, misery, sadness, pain.

people need to be fed emotionally and they attempt to be full but with actions, they continue to feel empty.

i'd rather be lost in the stardust than be nothing at all.