the deconstruction.

my single bed feels so alone.

my heart is calling out for, you to come home.

to push your face into my back,

to stop the cold and fix the gaps

but i know your far away and you ain’t coming back

so we make promises that we can’t keep

i know you’ll miss me, i know i miss you.

theres no way to say goodbye easily.

but i’m letting go. i am letting go

i got a jellyfish tattoo that you drew.

and i have your letter by my bed

i read it sometimes. when i miss you.

i still ride home past places that we went.

theres so many things that we never did

so i play them on repeat in my head

i wish i.   

i want to take you swimming in an aquarium.

i want to dance through the streets with a marching band.

and we all breathe rainbows and you put your hand in mine

and we danced out of time.

our lungs never opened or closed together

neither did our chests rise and fall in time

and our hearts never beat in unison

but it was perfect           

dear god,

if your out there. if your even fucking listening.

can you see what’s going on through the pinpricks in the floor of heaven.

do you hear the pain roaring louder than beached waves.

have you seen my brothers, with the deadpan eyes and empty gaze.

dear god,

i know its a hard question

but if you are so full of peace and love and you are supposed to live within me.

why do i feel so full of sadness and hatred so often?

you think at least my first world problems might be pretty easy to erase.

why are everyones shoes made in slavery 

or food come from machines in factories.

people having no value of humanity

i see that life is not easy, and that your burden is a bit heavier than some would like to think.

dear god,

if your so good, why was i allowed to feel such self hatred at such an early age,

that all i wanted for years was to die.

at 13, fucking 13 i tried to die.

but it didn’t happen outside so i bear it on the inside.

why were friends of mine neglected or raped,

why did they have to live on the streets as kids

or borrow my couch and clothes when their parents didn’t give a shit.

dear god.

my belief in you is like my belief in people in power,

that when i see them do goodness, i love them the more.

but as they break and flake and don’t turn up it wanes

and i don’t believe in them anymore.

that isn’t to say that they do not exist.

merely they disappoint or make me and those around me feel let down or alone or hurt.

so an aching loneliness, i suffered during my years of belief,

has become a numbness.

dear god,

people tell me about you.

how you grew their leg whole or healed their cancer.

or broke their heart to pieces or killed their father.

i’ve felt white light and heart swelling goodness.

but i’ve also felt true distance kind of like your son on that cross.

so i’m thinking i wanna know.

do i fear that i’m drinking a poisoned vessel? 

or.

do i drink from the fountain of life?

fuck it,all i know is that i know nothing.