mortals

you are the universe.

you are the universe. 

i find scars where they shouldn't be and i know

i'm not the type to self-harm in my sleep but it

scares me and maybe i'll just wake up without

a heart one of these days. i mean, i'd barely feel

the absence because i've been trapped between

these barriers of early morning coffee and the

loss of friends in the night-time when none of us

are thinking.

for all i know this is my world, of the dead living.

and we are the bloodthirsty fucking zombies,

the dead people just waiting for someone to

make them alive again. but i can't breathe.

i dove into the lake, falling deep with the vice-like 

grip of an anchor tied to my foot. (this is not the defeat

of achilles, just warning you.)

seconds from breaking the surface, my breath was stolen

with eyes locked wide open. whispers of arcadia blew smoke

in my ear and my inner neo-pagan refracted from my soul

and joined pan in the labyrinth of sheepskins. 

(  they tread softly on our weary hearts;

            | play the pipes once

more for us, travelers. |

    this new world is made up of their

                  iron parts that break

                      before we 

                        use them.  )

a/n: this is shit. i will try to make it less crappy once i get home from school.