stress.

read my mind
i am in the mood for sorrow
aching to kill frailty.
too bored
hence tired to sleep.
the crevices in the ceiling
aiming back at me;
right between the eyes.
i scratch 'till it reddens,
i forgot how beauty connotes logic.
how then this excuse of an auspex,
my fingernails rot from the liquid..
i touch the worthless turning to stone
and it reminds me of fortitude
as like shun from light so clearly blinding.

this
failing to achieve so passionately,
coincides with depicting tones of gray..
and
where have all those flowers gone?
cant help but talk about the weather,
and once i drown in a sea of aborted children,
i'll say martyrdom pays well and be savored.

i think of that cigarette-charred voice;
that will bring us together
you..
and us