you piece of shit

"why don't you want me to be happy?"
i ask, or plead,
beg.
though, i don't know who 
i'm speaking to.
such hostility, i line my words with
concrete edges,
hardened, like the docile statue i feel
i now resemble.
and i stay confused;
unsure of who it is that i am to resent.
everyone is a barricade,
and every pale limb of mine,
or yours,
is just another chain, with a lock
and a key, 
that nobody wants me to find.
under your tongue, in your throat,
in your fucking pathetic mind.
you give me trails with dead ends
or none at all,
because you want me to remain lost.
and i swear,
that if you place one more brick on top of 
the weak foundation which you created,
you moulded,
and you left,
i certainly will collapse.

untitled SB

on, it was like a trip.
through neon clouds
and flashing,
throbbing light spots,
i hallucinated.
i hallucinated you,
and for you.
i longed for the shadow
who would have held the gun,
too;
and i cry tears, still,
still not knowing
if they are from you,
or for you.
and to think,
i have gotten what i wanted.

coordinates

 can remove myself,
and replace my body
with another,
replace the front door
with a staircase,
and leave, or let go.
i can contort myself,
and taste the discomfort,
lick my lips
or another’s
and learn once again,
how to breathe.
distance held me close,
and it kept me warm
and still;
and still, i remain the only place
i cannot leave.