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i feel the weight of my dreams pressing down on my chest i can feel hope sucking the air out of my lungs i can feel desperation and desire twisting my guts up i can feel need, simple and plain, clawing at my spine rabid for attention
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i dont care for subtle wanting i crave that deep, aching longing that hums in your bones and claws at your nerves the kind that swallows you up consumes your every waking thought the longing that is desperate for attention that needs someone to watch as it tears your soul to shreds and burns down…
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when i was 16, i check off that little box in the DMV hoping that when im gone, they will find some use for my flesh beyond what shallow things i have done with it. the day i die they will cut me open they will search my corpse for something they could use to…
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i still hold on to my memories of you and try them on like and old jacket where the sleeves are to short and the pockets have holes but i keep it in my closet and try it back on when the world gets to cold because any time i wear that tattered fabric i…
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when they see me in passing, do they know im coming undone? when they glance at my face as i walk by, can they recognize the madness? when i speak, can they hear the grief flowing from my lips?
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sometimes i feel like sorrow was woven in to the fabric that made me created already tainted as if god himself looked into my soul, raw and uninhibited, and declared that it was beyond fixing
sterling poems 