If You Hurt Over Every Little Thing, All You'll Ever Do Is Hurt

The only difference between a monster and a hero is motive

Sometimes when two people are broken in the same way their jagged edges fit together

There's a sparkle in your eyes that twinkles so brightly I want to compare it to the stars in the sky, to nova's and galaxies far away. But these worn words have lost their strength in repetition. Instead, I will search for the words that cause that shine. I will do anything to keep you looking at me that way.

I spent so much time trying to tell you how much you look like the sky.

I was wrong, the sky looks like you.

Coming down

funny how distance looks different sometimes. When I'm sitting back to the dresser, watching my desk come into focus, much closer than anything's been in weeks.

There's carpet under my feet and the hum of a box fan off to the side. Light looks different, brighter where it plays on the reflective surfaces. Throwing overlapping shadows across the room.

And I'm suddenly aware of my own skin where it stretches over my knuckles. Tingly and colder than the night air.

Someones shifted the focus, dialed it up a little. And suddenly I'm here again.

I was never meant to have a body.

My tethered little pet.

So much responsibility to look after.

So much washing and clothing and tucking away.

I was never meant to rot so slowly.

From diseases, I will never know.

So much tending to my body needs.

So much aching and soothing and drugging away.

I was never meant to hold it's hand.

Like a mother holds a child.

So much guarding it needs.

So much hiding and cherishing and giving away.

I was never meant to have a body.

I rub the blanket across my cheek, trying to ground myself.

I feel your skin instead burning and intrusive. Grating on me.

I feel like I'm floating. I'm off in a dream.

Experiencing horrors I've already seen.

My breathing is heavy. I try not to scream.

I scrub at my skin. It never gets clean.

Past, present, and future king

And when he walks the earth, the forests parts like the sea in wide curling waves, rocks and trees falling by the wayside.

Roots curl from his path. Dirt and sand pulling away until only stone remains.

The earth cracks and it emerges from the very mantle like Atlantis from the deeps.

Smoking spires stand tall on soft walls cooling in the breeze. The smell of luckless underbrush permeates the air with it's sizzling screams.

Once he reaches the steps it is solid beneath his feet. A new palace and old king.

There's a strength in the palms of my hands.

And I sit in awe of it.

A short lifetime of climbing my way up and through.

Gifted and abused are my fingers.

Peppered with calluses and scars.

And I find I like it, this simple fact about myself.

It could have been true of a lot of people.

But in this moment it is my truth

I've been here for a while but I really shouldn't stay.

There's an ache in my joints, makes it hard to get away.

I guess I was waiting for you to come and rescue me.

But you never even noticed and now I cannot leave.

@milknosugar-youtube

In response to your beautiful untitled song. This one is for you.