11:11
an abstraction
of colossal damage
hidden in marks on
children's clay
at daycare
they kind of resemble
your visage a little bit,
don't you think?
my brother's absence
is killing me
i thought we crossed our hearts
to despise each other
until death
do us apart
but the house has never felt
so dead and empty
even with the furnitures
still stuck in place.
to love is to breathe
which air i can't conceive
for your love
is out of reach
from the palm
i cannot see.
to hate is to cherish
reigned down
to a miscarriage
but psychopathic issues
crave murder
and not to ponder
but the king
was not the
father.
oh god,
the queen is dead.
whistling screams
through her parched
mouth
against nothing
but ivy walls
but she'd hoped to have
a heat stroke
to collapse
during dawn
where her mother
can plan her vineyard
wedding at her
awakening lawn.
wishing that i
could cannonball
into your dreams
to remind you of me
bc i don't want you
to forget all my
hollow greens
thrashing into
midnight seams.
rough times
are when mother isn't
there to read me
nursery rhymes anymore
i bled through the pages
bc i ripped off my
polka dot band-aid
off my scraped lilac knee
i'm tough
i said (i'm still not fully
sure that i disagree).
you're my little software
that i like to keep
under my pillow
at night,
i know it's strange
but the vibrations
of your stare
lifts me up
like seesaws aside.
