untitled 1 / narcissist

     going insane is the solution        cameron   

going insane is the solution        cameron    

                going isnane si the solution        cameron    

            

        gioign snaine is hte lostuoin        cameron

    gongii naesi si het slutoin        cameron

                

                        one day i will be whole

  

b oo 

                                                  

i give up      

yellow dress

i remember more colors last year:

my pink shirt on easter 

your yellow dress you wore when you got back from the other side of florida

where you spent so much time

did i ever explain to you how the color yellow makes me feel?

for a moment the world stops spinning and meshing 

for a moment the greyscale blear dream 

stops

and i smile at how yellow talks to your skin and says

"i could live inside you forever"

i take the yellow dress off

and lay next to you

—warm —

you ask if im okay

i say for now

what i did on my birthday

every 15 minutes I started to cry 

i had a breakdown at work and took a clients kitchen knife into the bathroom with me to cut my wrists

i felt unloved and unlovable 

my parents are out of town and no one here knows that it’s my birthday 

now i’m alone in my bedroom getting wasted

every night, every night that i sleep at least, i have had nightmares with you in them

in all of them i’m being mocked, ridiculed, estranged, spited, cheated, and hurt. when i wake up from them it feels like something is ricocheting inside my head 

i am 22 and have to put down my pen 

the tremors are starting

it’s my birthday and thick clouds hang cover the sky

the rain will come

later

manual labor for the last two weeks

manual labor for two weeks to come

a breakdown today

i am 22

this year i will dig a hole straight down into the earth and

my disappear into it 

they will setup a monument around my deep dark hole

you’ll visit it every year on my birthday and cry

and i haven’t had anyone to tell about our problems 

my hopes

that rain comes
memory expands
vision weakens
i die a little 
i die a little 
i die a little
dance

AM

i.

in the curtained radio room static

replaces air

chest, breath, existence — 

sunken

the ceiling fan keeps time

for one more measure, one more measure, one more measure,

until The Unbearable Song is written and i am carried away

through thin layers of beige dry wall

ii.

my only friend

the singer 

humming quietly underground

with perfect pitch

hoping no one will hear

in the room below, i press my ear to the ceiling ...

iii. 

sound fills air

air fills lung

inhale 

now,

never let go

soon I will disappear

for the jokes

for the missing words

for the uncomfortable awareness 

of avoidance

of uncomfortable eye contact

for embarrassing moments

i've had enough of everything

except desperation

blank space

i don't know that i don't know that i don't know that i don't know

soon i will disappear

 I know I said I wanted to leave but I decided to stay to see if you’d realize what’s wrong and what eats my language sometimes and just buzzes around me like a single gray note never ending with sinister percussion — the gray that haunts me incessantly