i hate to say this,

but i'm leaving your sun-starched cliffsides
burnt orange with time, and i'm leaving
your starry-explosion-oceanside
for a better view of my own insides,
all earth tones and matching palettes--

i am leaving you
for a better view
of myself.

--

the sound of bones popping makes me think of you--
you are marrow in my bloodstream,
deadly in a matter of seconds and god you hurt
when you go down.
you're a pill made of sandpaper and brambles,
painful to swallow and no good for the soul.

--

i want a change of scenery,
but even more i want physical harm--
let's hit each other until our brains bleed
because i love the way my cheek feels on gravel,
fill my veins with fire because i like the way it glows;

my passtime is imagining your face hitting rock bottom.