The tomatoes are starting to rot in the flat cardboard box, their juices soaking into the paper as the little mold spots grow.

I do not mind their inevitable decay, but it reminds me of the shed where you decided you would die of your own free will.

The only thing left is the silence that your meaningless, hateful words would have filled, and the little pieces of wood, and metal that you cared for so much more than the blood of your own flesh.

The seeds of your endless sorrow spilling through your fingers, as your last breaths finally expired.

A lifetime I waited for you to see me, for your words to be true.

Don't look, its too much, but its too much to try to comprehend your vacancy unless your flesh crumbles before my eyes.

I think of you in ways I cannot say with words.

Perhaps because I feel lonely, even though I am never alone.

You are wrong, but wrong that feels good is better than nothing, everything.

Always some need hiding around a corner.

But never a need that calls for me to give some deeper more meaningful part of myself.

Only the basal needs of the flesh, the mouths gaping open, always hungry, needing, wanting, taking until there is nothing left of me.

Crumbs of my identity dissappearing between the cracks of the responsibilities I have shouldered upon myself.

I want to burn in the hot sun and hear your scornful, beautiful, rediculous words rolling past on the breeze.

I want your hands to squeeze, and push, and heal my flesh of its sadness while your teeth carve your name into my skin.

I want the salt imbedded in my pores in a place so far removed I cannot be found.

There. I take it back,

everything I didnt say.

Finally, I step tentatively into the light, that first step, so fearful, but driven by unstoppable forces,

churning so close to the surface I fear they may spill out.

If only to taste your breath again.

I have found that I am more afraid that goodbye will be too permanent, than I am of having to scrape to your whims,

In the hopes that I might swim through the depths of your sagacious delusion,

Depsite my better judgment, I wish to drown myself in sentimental repetition.

I used to think, we will get out of this,

We will grow up soon,

He can't live forever.

We will be ok.

Then, I thought it's just a bad day.

Everyone makes mistakes.

I thought you'd come out of it.

Figured you were so so much stronger.

But I guess you werent.

Don't even know who you are now.

All twisted and poisonous inside.

Wearing his skin, and saying his words.

Can't even function, nothing is coherent.

Where is my brother, lovely little brother.

I thought you'd always be my best friend.

Now your just a monster with matted hair.

I hate poems with I, and you and we. I am trying to pull you in so that we might see the same thing simultaneously. I want to erase you so that we don't exist. I want to be better than you so that we know I'm not a fuck up. I want to silence you so that we can breathe. I want you to think I'm clever so that we know I'm not stupid.

Heard a sad song, and now all I can think about is a cigarette. See a black car and I wonder if it was yours. I dont know how to grieve for someone who was so hurtful. I know you were hurting just as much, but you cant take it back now, nothing makes it better. I think I have more in common with you now, then I did when you were around. I wish it could have been different. I wish you hadn't been rotten on the inside. You would have been enough, if you had just been kind.

It sits in the corner.

It waits.

It's biding its time until were alone.

It will wait until I am asleep.

It does not care that I am only ten.

It smokes and drinks to dull it's memory.

It will cut off my wings.

I will not dream of flying anymore.

I will sink into a pit of shame and despair.

They will not believe me.

Every muscle in my neck under tension, pulling my airway closed.

Chest is a cavity under pressure, threatening to combust.

Eyes rolling white, can't keep them closed.

Can't fucking breathe.

All the layers pushing down and in.

Twisting in on themselves.

Strangling me.

Get away.

Run.

The dissonance of life echoing through the cluttered hallways in my brain is an unending cacophony reminding me that I'm doing it all wrong.

It keeps stacking up on top of you until there's no way to get out from under it, pressing down until you feel your bones creaking.

Everyone seems to have goals and purposes and motives but I can't figure out who I am or what I want.