your own brand of unhappiness.

he spoke like a two tone turntable
two shades short of turmoil.
singing
in off beat beauty
like a pearl- that tries to hard to be white.
when he says that no matter what we eat- drink or steal
we're all going to die the same way.

and it's- it's something like believing the world is going to end
because of our actions. when the skies are standing
on no man made pillars. he tried to teach me
that wishing for the worst is kind of like writing your own epilogue.
so we wished for the universe to collapse upon itself


because feeling this small is torture.

-so he asked me.
if I knew how to trace stars in the sand
and I told him that beauty is breaking harder than the waves
and we both knew what it meant to be rocked
by the presence of purpose
at that moment.

because hearts were meant to focus on the pain.
while the sleeves stayed soaked.
-and sometimes.
it doesn't hurt to fall into a million pieces of penitence.
the picking up is what kills you.


-so he asked me.
do you feel like becoming a hero.

and I fell apart.