Bloom (return To Dust)

There is a certain way we move these chains

like a watch in a box that doesn't tell time but

instead just gives it

it all starts to bleed into miles that separate

or phone calls that aren't on pace

like the chemicals my grandfather gave me

disarrayed and misconstructed

the wrong blend

but my only vice is the will to give in

to the only feeling that has ever felt worth it

excuse-less//trying to figure out what's worth keeping

when I don't hate anyone else half as much as myself.

It numbs in the never ending quiet that burns my

eyelids

learning to learn between the lines of

"I want you to be free"

I want to return to the water.

To drink in the sex//sleaze//mud//greed

Put a gun in the mouth of the sky and just (breathe)

or to where I can bathe in my own conscience.

Sometimes I wake up in the ER with a needle in my arm

or in the back of a mangled car

in the silence before the light comes

but it always ends the same with a flood coursing

through my veins

trying to find words to lay out the things I could

never say

the way the world picks at my brain. How I can't watch

you leave.

Blood is blood

but as everything comes and everyone goes,

"love is love,

return to dust."