My blood alcohol level
Is greater than my love for you.
And the cold ceramic tiles
Are my escort for the night.
The shower head
Sings me melodies to get me through the night
And my heart had never beat faster
Than when I hugged the toilet
And it’s icey body
Rocked me to sleep
It still smels like you. Like cigarettes, cheap cologne and your body. I look closer. Examining my shirt (your shirt), I saw a splotch of blood. I squeezed the spot; blood stains my appear on the pads of my thumb and index finger. The spot on the cuff of my shirt, your shirt, our shirt, was fresh. Hmph, I thought. I didn’t think anything of it. I was used to my blood. i was used to stabbing myself every now and then. I fell back into my thoughts. Lately, my thoughts have been filled with suicide. Nooses, knives, pills, hell I’ve even thought about fucking guillotine-ing myself. My favorite idea so far is—is that another blood spot? I could have sworn that wasn’t there before. Anyway, my favorite idea so far is jumping off of a building. It scares me, though. What happens in those moments before you die? Will I regret my decision? I’d feel better if you were there. Maybe. Maybe I’d—another spot? 3 spots on my left sleeve. 3 spots of fresh blood. Suicide still pulses through my veins, through my brain. The NA NA NA NAs of music pulsed through my ears. Even the music told me to kill myself. I’m glad you left your clothes here when you left last night. You left all your clothes that smell like you the most. I covered my bed with them. I know you packed them all neatly last night, but I needed to sense you there. I needed— there’s another spot of blood. It landed on me. It’s falling from somewhere. It fell in between 2 other spots making one long stretched out splotch. A splotch on my shirt. Your shirt. Our shirt. No, I guess it really is your shirt. I’m sorry I messed up your shirt. Another splotch. Another. Next to me, there is a large pool of blood. I look up and surely, there I was. I’d like to say I am creative, but I heard you suggest this idea before. There I was hanging from the ceiling. Barbed wire strung around my neck, blood dripping down. There’s nothing left to regret. It’s been done. I did it. Oh shit, another spot of blood…
I felt the urge to move, so i started walking. i left the room and began my journey, desperate to leave. sounds rushing through my ears and head like i had no brain; just space in an empty cavity controlling how, where, and when i moved. I walked past the electric room where the smell of electricity charged my nostrils and sent goosebumps down my spine. I shrugged them off. shrugged off the goosebumps. they fell on the floor. The goosebumps fell on the floor. Little white dots of goosebumps trail down the carpet. I left them. i continued walking. Past the boiler room, i walked. my journey has not been long, only a few minutes. I reached the boiler room as I walked. I smelled burning. In the boiler room, that is. I smelled burning in the boiler room. I didn’t stop. The smell of burning turned my head, flipping my hair. The thin clumps of hair left marks on my face. Marks that I peeled off like stickers. I dropped them on the floor. The marks, I dropped them on the floor. They were gray, like shadows. The marks from where my hair hit my face. I continued. I continued to continue, since I had not stopped since i started. It was a hall that I was walking down. A long carpeted hallway. The carpet was short and dark green. The green color contrasted with the beige walls and white doors perpendicular to it. The carpet color; the color of the hallway. The color of my runway. I was like a plane, gaining speed with every second; ready to take off. I had no idea why I got the urge to leave, but I had. I had the urge to leave my temporary home. The place where my bed laid, where my clothes were. I wanted to leave them there and go. I had no idea why. I continued down the hall past the elevators. It dinged. The elevator dinged. The sound rang through my ears and startled me. It made my stomach drop. The ding of the elevator made my stomach drop. It dropped from between my legs onto the dark green carpet. It was pink. I left it there; I left my stomach on the green carpet. I moved forward. Faster, I moved. Faster faster faster. I walked past a door leading to the outside world. It was open, the door. The door was open. I felt a cool breeze on my skin. It blew on my skin, the breeze. The breeze blew on my skin. It cracked and fell off. My skin cracked and fell off. It fell onto the carpet. My cracked skin fell onto the carpet. I walked faster. I was almost running at this point. My hair was flowing in my self-made wind. It fell out. My hair fell out. The wind pulled it out. It did not hurt; i didn’t feel it leave. It fell onto the carpet. I left it there. I had no use for it. My hair, that is. I had no use for my hair anymore. I became aware of my pounding heart. Or lack of pounding. Pounding in my heart, that is. I was running, but it was not pounding. It was beating very slow; very calm. My heart was beating very slow and calm. As I thought about this peculiar characteristic, i felt my veins slip out of my skin like string. They fell onto the floor like string. I felt my veins fall out of my skin onto the green carpet as I was running full speed towards nothing. With nothing attached to it, my heart dropped out of my chest. It fell on the floor, too. My heart fell onto the floor. As I began to think, to wonder. Think and ponder of the situation, that is. Think and ponder of the situation I was in. Where my organs were now, why they were leaving me, where I was going. As I thought, I felt my thoughts slide out of my ears like jello. My brain was next; oozing out of the cavities meant to pick up sound waves. And at that moment, I felt myself break through the wall at the end of the hallway. But I didn’t fall. I didn’t fall as I broke through the wall at the end of the hallway. I didn’t fall as I broke through the beige wall of the hotel where I was staying. Instead, I felt my body drop behind onto the carpet and I evaporated into nothing but the last bit of star dust I was made of tens of thousands of years ago. I wasn’t meant for this world. i was meant for the cosmos. My body is left for others to do with as they please. To manipulate or dispose of. A child might take my veins and twirl them into a bracelet. Someone may pick up my goosebumps and string them into a necklace. My hair may be woven into a cloth. As I evaporated, I looked back on my life. My useless, pathetic life. The life I was not meant to have. And I rose above to the stars billions of light years away to wait for another person to make the same realization as I had.
so go ahead and breathe in that regret
shoot it up, if you must
cause i’m the fucking best
thing
you screwed over
nothing will ever be the same
cause you started this game
so fuck your happiness
fuck your sadness
i’m a bitter fucking bitch
i’m going some place
i’m going down
i’m going down to fucking hell
cause at least i’ll be welcomed
and the more times you try to go to heaven
the easier it will be to burn
cause you’re using up all your energy
and by now
that’s all i’ve got
might as well rot
away
away
away
my organs are falling out
help help
theyre all over the carpet
my livers a disaster
and my hearts a broken mess
im spilling
my organs are falling out
i have too much anger
i can’t express it
you tell me you cant deal with me
like it isnt a choice
i really cant think of the words
to describe how i hate you so much
but love you at the same time
really it’s just such
a hard time
every day
is a hard time
that it’s gotten to the point
where i’m cutting my feelings away
the blood holds the feelings
and i’m cutting it away
the only problem is
i’m drinking it
and the feelings are inside of me again
like ghosts
