the ghost in monument circle

warning: explicit language. also i kind of hate this one.

my throat is on fire

and my eyes are fighting sleep 

while my heart pukes up fading traces of desire.

my god lies in the folds of my brain 

and every passing word i say 

smells like cheap peppermint

and gives me a migraine. 

i don't think my limbs could carry me

to monument circle again. 

'cause i'm still stuck inside my bedroom

thinking about smoking my

mom's cigarettes 

and looking so damn cool

while doing it. 

there's venom in my dried up spit

and the taste of caustic wit 

on my tongue. 

i'm about to carve out my

chest and pour little drops

of Heaven in my lungs. 

i wanna die while

i'm still young. 

i'm holding onto my myself like my body

is the only thing that matters. 

don't get too close to my ghost

or i'll haunt the places you love most.

no, nothing really matters

anymore. 

i like to think i would look better

with my head against the floor.

but me coughing up my guts

won't do us any good.

and my mouth will spill the words

your heart never could. 

maybe i should live a little 

before i pick up a pen again. 

'cause i need to stop writing about

the fire coursing through my dusty old veins 

and how my head is a f*****g hurricane. 

maybe my tongue is a bullet

or maybe i'm full of it. 

Author's Note

please don't leave any criticisms involving grammar or the technicalities of the poem because you would just be wasting yours and my time. I only want to know if the subject matter, the words I use and whatnot completely suck or not. Thank you.

This poem was also inspired by the song Broadripple is Burning by Margot and the Nuclear So and So's.