Ridged.Alignment.

I look in a broken spyglass at times.
Examining the asphyxiation of cluttered clouds.
And how much it hurt to throw up every word.
Just to crawl up a trellis to unlock a boxed in soul.




&.

I often dreamt of roses.
That would somehow break the ridges in my skin.
Shatter the nicotine habit.
Just so carbon didn’t have to feel so contagious.




I manage to dissect the stars at times.
While the moon shuts it eye beneath frozen tundra.
& As they cry of broken beauty.
I slip my veins into a glittered mess.




Just to feel like ripping apart every inch.
Was something worth holding on to.




I started highlighting the disasters in my life.
Under a frozen sun that’s been in the same place for years.
And the percentages never add up.
After the post-it notes fall in the cracks of the floor.



I guess I’ll find them someday.
Along with de-hearted stars.



&.

I broke the river last night.
With ink from an unused pen.
In attempts to bold the words I never could.
And underline the world so I know that the silver linings are real.




I guess I get lost sometimes.
Looking into shattered pavement and rundown buildings.
Running from the thoughts that could never be content.
Marking with red pens all the things I should do.




All the things I could never urge myself to do.




And looking through a spyglass at a shattered world in my eyes.
I often see the beauty.
Knowing that the dissections from piece.ful. eyes may be glittered messes.
And under a frozen sun maybe I’ll find the right words one day.




To spill the italic sentences that were never whispered.
& Watercolor the sun a pigment never named.
Just so I didn’t feel so unaligned.
Just to feel like making sense didn’t mean making sentences.







Because sometimes feeling complete.
Is having every body tissue screaming suffocation.









Feeble attempts to crawl up a trellis to unlock a boxed in soul.