eat pills. go to sleep dead. 
skin the color of sheep. my body is a well
“go healthy” 
words that fall to my feet like picking up the pieces of 
broken teeth 
the ones he leaves without in my dreams 
perched and maimed they just lay there. 
dumbfounded. un-struck
my mind knows when it is starting to get colder. 
it starts to wander. 
it starts to wonder why in these periods of cease the 
bravery turns to hunger 
and your stare goes dull
but I know you better. 
I wanted to see the eternally embellished doorstep. 
but the pains have slowed my fingers - no talking points. 
no relevance 
cross the street a little early just to wake up the tips 
of my fingers.
and when the headlights come blaring towards me
will acceptance come more easy?
will depression set me free?
when you spilled my design into there palms
you spilled me.