combined effort of everyone i ever knew (of) .

because sleep hates me.

it is an established fact
like how roses die and peaches rot and ink fades
that i am a meteor
heading full on towards you
       _{(i never could turn cartwheels)}
with impact imminent
and an oil rig crew playing dress up spacemen cant stop me now.

in my dream i woke up dead _{because in dreams everything is possible}
continued to jump off the pier _{there was shrapnel in the sea}
into the black liquid 
and a decomposing iceman 
drowned me
with the make up of a clown and a knife down my middle.

in my dream there is no colour 

not even a shade of sepia or a skin tone in my knees

and there are dead trees grasping at life

with hands like witches fingers

in a ring at the bottom of a hill. there is
one ontop _{alive with hope} with a grey swing and a girl with a black
hair and a white dress and she's singing
and gosh, her face is a w f u l. 

in my dream i am not broken any more
and that is more a nightmare than drowing with clowns
and girls in dead worlds because i don't know who i am
or what i am apart from broken
because the cracks are defining my wholeness
and there is not alot left.

i was happy with bipolar
i was alright with being an insomniac
i was fine with a history of anorexia and bulimia and self harm
i was ok with being someone who sees more people than there are there
i was happy with {{some stupid condition in my knees that i cant spell}}
i was alright with the fact that they hurt.
i was fine with seeing the trail of lights left after your form has moved.

but now the people who arn't there have left
or have grown teeth and now bite
and god how shadows hurt my eyes

i buried the roses in coffins
and keep the pages i wrote in the dark so the ink can't fade
and rotten peaches taste rather too sweet and dead and disgusting
and maybe im more like a rotten peach than a meteor because 

meteors are strong.

Author's Note

sorry if its graphic. these are the tame ones.