echor-words

[echor-words]

life is oh so forgiving to me

luck is always on my side

the boot is always so forgetful

and i am so, so pitied.

everything i have is from

an act of kindness

everything i have ever done

a stroke of luck

how fortunate i am to have anything at all

to have anyone donate their time to me

every second like a penny in my cup.

i am drowning in debt.

[echor-words]

and i choose you again,

and again,

and always,

forever.

in two and a half years i’ll still be

on your front step

hoping my fingers will find their way back

in your hair,

against ur scalp

pressed against the side of your jaw.

you always smell the same

a reminder of comfort, almost painful

and i hide in the crook of your elbow

hoping that i ever did the same

for you.

did you ever choose me back

will you choose me again

and again

at all?

you won’t spend your time breathing in

where i’d left

the way that i did

and still do

and will do.

[echor-words]

and so what is it like up there?

what a pretty view of who i am

breaking my wrists, hands in the sand.

is it pretty up there?

what is it i can’t see over that ledge?

how small do i look? an ant, squirming in the tunnels?

how did you get up there?

were you born with the wings?

or did you build them yourself

with the feathers of geese and the wax from your dimly lit candle?

and yet i shouldn’t wonder.

i should be taking flight

up on that hill

my home, my safety.

the more i wonder, the further you get.

but what

what?

what is it like up there?

what a pretty view of who i am

breaking my wrists, hands in the sand.

[echor-words]

twenty inches of yarn between us

i wonder what it is that makes it stay

strung by the shoulder, the end of collarbone

can i make it fifteen, ten, zero?

i forgot that not everybody has

a head made of glass

the spiders crawling the corners

perhaps i never knew this, at all.

i didn’t know the hands who befriend the spiders

and build up their spines

metal welded shut and strong

far up and sturdy.

my hands and my mouth are full of spoons

spoons to keep you full

to lift

enough metal to fill in the glass.

your metal spine hides away the gaps

a twenty inch piece of yarn stretches to fifty

slips along the edge of your cutting edge steel shoulder

do my spoons ring true?

do you see them at all?

they are all i have.

do they matter to you at all?

[echor-words]

and yet couldn’t you understand that

reality is malleable

the gold sheet in between your fingers

easily. you could crumple it like origami.

i have my glasses on and you laugh, kindly

gold and gold

around my neck, between your teeth.

roses on my windowsill, from last night

i guess i do understand

when you know reality around you is set in stone.

but in my mind

in my mind it is still gold

reflecting along our walls and across our arms.

[echor-words]

pressed a mud caked basket into your arms

baked clean and fresh with the earth oozing between your fingers

isn’t it unlike anything you’ve ever held?

against your heart

grass stains and the wet dirt on your cheeks

a praying mantis in your palm

and i pray to your upbringing that it remains like this always

[echor-words]

time is so slow with yellow honey lights and heaven and hell at ease

sine waves and yin and yang slotting together the water glass seven-eighths empty full of still and sweet air

time is so slow and soup with tomatoes and egg drop and the familiar oil in the spoon and at the roots of your hair. your chest does not hum under you but is still with your ribs, every curved ridge, sine waves, yin and yang, slotting together like puzzle pieces

time is so slow and you do not shake. nine times two and six times three you did not mean to see- the ink hangs from the walls like small dragons. the past and the present, and the future honey yellow, sticky and foggy, immiscible, sitting atop the other in sine, yin yang slots.

[echor-words]

knocking at your collarbones

[echor-words]

i dont know where my obsession of selfishness came from but it eats me alive everyday

where you know the sinful and rancid thoughts of what i think i need or what i want or what i dont want and then i wish i were better in the worst possible ways, with a headache holy war in my mind and twenty old texts come to mind. “i am so sorry.” and i want to stop the smoke and fire and clashing sounds of shield to sword but maybe it’s the reform, it’s what’s right, and execute them forever until the day i die. but i escape from under the boot (of pressure, how is it that i have this image but i still never change?). shut in my headphones (that your father bought you, mind you) and sooth myself with the sounds of cluelessness and innocence because apparently that’s the only thing i to do. but isn’t it awful? it’s absolutely awful. maybe i was inherently awful. where can i kill the cycle of selfishness, my heart and mind is full of it and it doesn’t ever drain out of the holes of my eyes my ears my nose my mouth

i climb up to here and i get cut down with my own hand, my own doing, i fall back to the fucking awful corner of my bed and i would much rather stay there to fight but isn’t that selfish? the people up there need me. but isn’t it selfish to think i would be needed at all?

[echor-words]

purple blooming

daisy meets the floor

indent

print

mechanical wind above my skull

hours, days, week long scales

(all tipped)

waiting for a fix

indent

print

will i disappear?

purple blooming

daisy meets the floor

[echor-words]

the slow, casual entrance of dawn

opened the blinds expecting

a daze of pink and red

and instead found

a pale blue expanse

my heart is still aching

yearning beyond what i have known before

how is it that i will forever find you in the skies?

you once told me that you’d never seen snow

and now every time i do (i think of you)

but will i be forgotten by you

an expectation

met with the barest of pink clouds

the books and films don’t come close

to the shallow puddles in my mind

would it hurt more to do so? or would it be just what i am looking for?

how do i get there?

[echor-words]

tripping all over my steps

1:30 am systems

rabbit holes and groundhog homes

i think i fell in love again

the smallest of things

my heart gives and aches

celebrate!

i feel it once again

have my heart and my brain returned home?

the pounding

and the tugging

the vibration of pre civil thread

it hurts so well

am i the same in this?

forgot my sensitivity

why i missed it so

[echor-words]

trust me that

when i say i know

i do know

i know i could be better

and i know i could stop

trust me that

when i say i know

i don’t know

why i need to be better

and why i need to stop

[echor-words]

green spiderwebs of blood

weaved into my chest

(what did i once say?

about rats in my rib cage

and spiders creeping in the corners)

i have never felt

so unlike me before

[echor-words]

i forgot my head is not made of glass

my brain on display for all to see

with all these words spilling from my heart and out my mouth

give so easy like a dam gone mad

(every morning with sleep swollen eyes

i thought that its soul was quite obvious.)

maybe it builds an armor instead

packed so closely it sprains and falls

i pulled myself so far apart

am nothing thick but just a single thread page

[echor-words]

questions for a you

how have i been doing this every

every

every

single

dead

dying

day

how have i woken up

and thought

and thought

and thought

and talked and stumbled my way through

yes

ive got

friends

,,, i supposed

no nobodys number one

i guess that’s just a little bit funny, how that youve given up on everything you’ve hoped for

am i really over it? this

war

i go through

and lose every day?

it’s like a million wounded

a million casualties

in my chest every day

the world goes triumphant outside

when i scurry through the aisles

silent and without

eye contact

pretending i dont exist

does it help you?

does it help you

does it help

you imagine

what it was like

for you to be dead?

how have you been doing this

every

single

every

drag on

every

war

every

death

dying

day

[echor-words]

by god

i dont think i was meant for this life

[…]

and god im so

so

fucking

lost

where has my head gone?