falling a p a r t

Why should i paint a butterfly on my wrist,      
when it will inch towards the blade and slit up the memories that my head keeps pounding my muscles with.

Reminding me to stay sane
             keep your thoughts away from
 peering ears in therapist offices;

 and try to dye the thoughts away from your hair, and hide it for long enough and it will come true.       right?

try to draw the sketches of people i want to meet.
 And try to dye my skin with a safety pin without the safety,
 and a pen that i took (apart)from the fact that I’m crying it seems to be fun going through all this shit in my head,
 not a breath
     or a break
and
          I’m holding it in.

 The drawers of my room with the lighter, burn my skin through the night, and the walls close in and warm up my head while I’m trying to sleep away thoughts I (thought)I escaped this place.