it's january but sometime in between like the time between the evening and the morning and how it doesn't actually exist.

there is mud on my shoes and my skin is white and the grass is frozen and the sky is bleeding and as i sit on this swing my head spins. i'm going to fall off into the mud and be asleep forever i'm going to pass out and nobody's going to find me.

the air smells like the promise of tomorrow and nothing has ever smelled more terrifying.

my lungs freeze every time i breathe the air is so cold and my bones are so cold and my stitches are falling out and it's so hard to sew them back together when my hands are so cold. 

i'm beginning to wonder when i'm going to run out of thread.

it's been a long time since you've seen me and i wonder if you'd recognize me i wonder if you could look at my crumbling skeleton and night sky eyes and sadblue skin and still see the candlelight stories and soft hands you loved.

the moon is yellow and cracked and it's the same color of the back of the toilet when i lean my forehead against it and stick my fingers down my throat.

i spill out the yellow stuffing inside of me so that i can feel okay.

the air smells like wine and it makes my head dizzy because it brings back the smell of burning paper and the feel of hands against me where they aren't supposed to be and the grapes in the air remind me of how i'll never belong to myself again.

i want to get in my car and drive and drive until i'm not here and i'm not anywhere i want to drive into a lake and watch my car fill up with water and let the bubbles fill up my lungs but i don't want to be dead and i don't know how to die without being dead.

i am a shattered plastic cup under the feet of a sky with no end and i am filled with the fear of all the dying stars in the sky. my hands shake and my head is full and i don't know how to feel happy and i'm not sure i ever have.

i wonder what it feels like to feel safe.