diary.we should stop writing about deathsomedaysomeoneis going to dieand it won'tmean enough to anyoneto write it a poemand we will all be sadderfor itthe thought of a death,a blackout,a wash of dark ink -the thought that it could meannothingto the heart sitting next to yours -beating a broken rhythmon the train's green line -unsettles uswe are stonesafraid to sink to the seabed;we are childrenterrified of the dark;we are monstershiding under our own beds;we are indianscradling our fates with open armshere the night comesonly oncethe stars are the whitesof our own eyesthe sleep is heavy butstill catharticand wed r i f t .
Salutations, Disaster, Kill Mehello,the world ends the dayyou forget who you arehello,the world endedwith world war iihello,the world will never endas long as we're kissinghello,you've got armageddonwritten all over your lips(let me lick the catastrophe clean)hello,i don't believe in greetingsor apocalypses or eternityhello,in world war nineteen,will you hold my hand?hello,you don't believe in propagandaor conspiracies or happy endingshello,you don't believe in sayingGOODBYE
Cliche Mei."They fell in love at first-sight."He was the boy with the pocket-watch heart that no longer told time and the sandpaper skin that she was afraid to touch and a past that was better left untold. His heart used to tick effortlessly and his skin wasn't always that rough you know. She was the girl with the glass eyes and the broken smile and a secret for each breath she exhausted. Sometimes if you were lucky enough you could make out the words as they pumped out her mouth but she made sure to purse her lips when around him.ii."I am nothing without you."When she wasn't around he would count his steps so he knew how far he had walked without her hand in his. She would lie on her roof and count the stars and let out a secret for each one; a secret she was too scared to let him see. When they were together, you could hear the little hand and big hand scratching at his ribcage because they were trying to move, but his lungs would always get in the way. He was hoping it wouldn't come to
changing your dress or addressi sent you my love,with a big fat fuckingugly stamp on it.RETURN TO SENDERi guess my love wasn't enough.maybe i should have bought youa better ego or pair of sunglassesyou'd only wear once. new clothesto match this month's persona. oh,aren't you fashionable? my fashionof intricate packaging love letterswith pretty ritzy glitzy glitterand a cathartic bow on top.laced with ribbon. purple.no, no, no. TRY AGAIN.maybe the mail glitched?i re-sent you my love.correction: i resent you, my love