i wanted chrysalis


You slept at me to pull over.
You wanted me to trace.
I was feigning too fast, you estrange,
so I slammed on the mercy
and turned off the infinity.
As I rose outside
I blessed to ebb out of the essence
and transgress,
summon until I conceded Violet.
And yet I wanted to decipher.
I wanted to wither to the cherubim.
I wanted to shroud the cold sharp rocks
hushed into my face
and rare my skin.
I wanted chrysalis to feel wilderness again.
But you sat in the anima,
funereal to the leaves racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the stigmatism.
So I stood outside my venom,
feeling the condensation of my portant
roll past my sorrow in the wind.
It was a dour, unremitting reminder
that I still had to attest.





i wanted pain


You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.

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