Recklessness is an art.

Listen to this my screaming and my heartbeat pounding

So symphonic

Watch this blossoming of bruises and the spitting of blood into the sink

Like watercolor

Feel these jutting bones and raised scars

The mountains and valleys of ribs and tissue

Witness this crumbling into despair and exploding into life

I have made self destruction into an art form.

Recklessness is a form of self harm.

Perhaps that's why her lips collided with mine

Despite my knowledge that she's not yet off of antibiotics from being sick

And I smiled.

Perhaps that's why I was at his throat

Ready to fight and even lose

As long as blows were exchanged.

Perhaps that's why I neglected my self

Let the whole room watch as I fell

A result of the self inflicted abuse

Perhaps that's why I deny

When they all begin to wonder

The chair used to sit in the parlor, but when I left you moved it here. Here being diagonal to your bed in the corner. I'm glad you moved it.

I like to sit there when you're sleeping because I get to see you look peaceful. Of course you have nightmares sometimes, but even those are less painful to watch than the mournful expression you keep in your waking hours. Still, I wish I could wake you.

For a while I had the hope that you'd wake up and see me. When you'd toss and turn I'd pray you'd sit up and see me. I could smile and maybe you would too. My hope left last week when you sat up, turned on your bedside lamp, and stared longingly at my chair. You didn't see the tears in my eyes. You just stared and missed me sitting there.

If it carries on like this, your tormented grief, I think you'll be sitting in someone else's empty chair.

I will lay them in the ground,

And one day lay myself with them,

Together in the field.

If there is anything left

Any bones or teeth

They'll know

They'll know my sins

But they won't think

of the wild animals

I fed

I was born with words on my tongue

We live fast and we expect to die young

And on the nights

With no movement or sound

I hold a pen

I write my world down

I write your name

I write my world down

What a game!

Oh, this game that we play

In the air

Are the words we don't say

In your smile

Everything's said

And I will write

Write your name till I'm dead

When we die we'll still be so young

I will die with words on my tongue