baby, did the cocaine get the better of you again?

when i closed my eyes, my eyelids played me pictures, little moving pictures of girls like my sister. that's how it used to be, before the trap she fell into; it was an accident. when he came in, he brought in all of this snow, and after that all i saw was dark. and my sister never shivered the same again. our parents didn't really notice, but i remember them yelling about what they heard in her bathroom. dad was drunk and mom was just trying. i just had my plastic trucks, & when my sister opened the door, he opened up his stomach and she climbed up through his small intestine, then his large, and swam all around in the bile of his liver, finally settling back down in some big artery that you need to survive. i don't know if she's come out yet, but when she does, she told me she'd call me from the pay-phone on grant street. she told me once when she was living there that his eyes looked like gemstones from Africa and his hair was like a panthers. "purple?" i said. but she told me yesterday his eyes looked more like dirty seafoam and his hair felt like mayonnaise. when she caught him with his nose in the flour again, he told her that it was her fault, and she believed him, a little bit. but she wrote me a letter last night, it was addressed to me. it had my name on it, in her big block letters. like the communist manifesto, it said her hair's gone grey and her skin's fallen off, so i asked her, "baby, did the cocaine get the better of you again?"

I want it, it is you.

"Somebody put me back in school, I forget everything. I used to know how to leave the boy behind without having to watch him go, oh."

I am so very confused, so very uninspired, so very uncomfortable. Without a plan, I've got half the mind I should. Without a kiss, I've got half the confidence in you I should. Without you, I've got a better chance. And lately I'm so tired that I can't even see.

6:15 A.M

i'm wide awake and you're barely listening.

was my body not the skeletal version of your own?
how i wish i could write like i used to.
if you'd like me to stop trying to lose, i will not.
perhaps i can't do it 'cause you've inspired me less,
because i have not yet been hurt.

is it masochism to wish for pain, if it means creativity?
perhaps i am wrong: if i take the reins we will surely fall.
i only want success for us, but i only want you to destroy me.
this battle is hardly worth fighting for if i can't make up which side i'm not.
like comfort, you spread over me and keep me quiet.
like indecision, i will not make it.

everybody here's got somebody to live for.

a reminder of how much you have given yourself: this is your inspiration to change, to breathe how you once did; in harmony with mind. like pen to paper, take this like a promise to yourself; you will go backwards.

can't you stay here?
i cannot.
do not trust me.
i will not.
fall hard, or fall fast?
i choose isolation.
keep me close.
i hardly think i can.
cry.
how?
what do i do?
you leave.
is that what you want?
hardly.