coma breath

that skin-thin beauty
beheld and withheld again
the cycle of death in
this shell of a head
empty echo chamber
chaining me to
the remainder of the
best fuck i ever had
those bluish reminders
take forever to fade it seems
stretched beyond my means
render all this mess
meaningless, and what's more
i don't have the good sense
to come in from this rain
hopeful of asphxiation
death by candellight might
even be art-like.
soul to soul, once upon
a daydream
my mind is in seattle
and all points in between.