...to the shrimp...

here is my offering of an unpolished friendship
one that is serrated and can cut deep enough to scar...
but i will pour myself through this strainer
so these healthy pieces of me can fill you up
and use white-out on my imperfections
so that your story remains perfect
because we can never see past these bridges we've built
in order to block our horizons
but i'm alright when you're alright...
stomachs often hold on to hurt much longer
than hearts do
creating a corset wall to block out anything that means something
while in these grey skies we thrive
leaving shadows across our eyes...
sharp stings revive us
and we are never more alive then when we are damaged and departed...
the wind fills us up with negative space
while we draw our insecurities across our backs
and all float away separately...
even though i don't have the glue or strength to hold you,
shattered together,
with mountains and skyscrapers that keep you in your fortress...
i can build you a break
to free your somber branches
because you cant stop thinking
and bends eventually break when
your face is all wet from things i cant fix...
ill like your depression
and swollen wrists...
because we are all
helpless and withered at some point

interpersonal swimming pool: sections of the deep end

life is not the same now
smiles graze these sullen cheeks
like those who shine sunlight
but my being remains dark
like the shadows
i place myself
in

why stay?
in this place
frequent thoughts
speak with much
persuasion

i tend to feel best when my
eyes are closed
so i think just may stay
this way for
a while

and happiness is nothing
but a liar
it said it would always
be there
and being is nothing but a game
because it steals pieces of you
when you need them the
most

i feel like a stranger
in my most comfortable
skin
and while i watch these
eyes water to the top
i secretly ring them out
until they are dry...
so no one
sees

and for a moment,
i thought the world of
life
but the sun sank
and the oceans burned
dark...

i think ill roll my pants
and walk into this ocean
so that the water only graces my
feet

just to lick these wounds until
they are clean again
so they may be stitched and left
to heal without any noticeable
scars

because these photographs keep me
alive
but i for now remain
stale