It’s not something I could name, it’s all those I love sitting on my shoulders, whispering questions in my ears and pulling the answers out of my throat. It’s the hooks in my lips, pinning them back to my cheeks. It’s the ever present knife in my brow, twisting when I feel the need to speak. It’s the cinch bag of my stomach, shooting closed in defiance whenever I consider a meal. It’s more than a feeling, a fleeting emotion, it’s the weight under which I try to live.

And I still can’t name it, all I know is the weight and the dragging, my collection of masks for different occasions.

I was eleven Knew less than I do now You were thirteen All alone, and I showed you some kindness

God, how could that go wrong

We were roughhousing As kids do And you pinned me to my bed You hovered over me

God, how did you forget

You started talking about sex And I couldn’t throw you This is why I learned Jiu Jitsu Because I never want this again

God, how does a kid do this

And I don’t think I could forgive you Because to forgive Is to forget And I could never forget this

Don’t smile Run away And hide

Don’t laugh Rip it out And run

All emotion A smoking gun Now run

Feet pound Gasps for air Faster

Her darkness Just behind Faster than before

Heart pounding Breaths shallow Running harder

No emotion Just away Hide it all

Trees ablaze Smoky lungs Coughing now

Stop.

Turn around Quick draw The queen has fallen

Look down on your mother, Broken boy Look down at her blood and cry, Broken boy

Your feet are bleeding, Your throat is ragged, And you are no more than A broken boy

No less broken than when you began Less trapped, Sure

But freedom comes with tears Comes with with knees hitting the ground Comes with that newly familiar taste, That copper filling your throat

The gun in your hands is not for you, Broken boy The fates have more for you, Broken boy

You will never get a break, Never a way out, Always with the loss of the broken boy, The hero.

True beauty flowers in love And those I love are not by blood Not bonds carefully manufactured Not sentenced by blood in my veins

Like poppies in my garden, Like that pumpkin in the fall, Things I never meant to plant, But show up all the same

I have three brothers, Two claimed by my own beating heart, The other by the blood it pumps, But I love them all the same

My mother is the words I’ve read, Teaching me how to care and learn, Teaching me to read and write, Not the woman woman who birthed me

My dad is the one teaching me to drive, Giving me a truck and telling me I’m smart Helping me learn, not putting me down, Not the man who looks at me with sadness

We’re our own wild family Our mascot is a chair We speak many languages We worship many things

Jewish, Catholic, Christian, Pagan, Satanist We’re all here, we manage to coexist Can’t tell you how we got here, But I know we’ll never leave

I’m not heliocentric ‘Cause I guess I’m Ganymede Out here with Jupiter And all the others that you’ve Screwed over Screwed up Straight up screwed I’m out here with Jupiter A name in a list under yours Finally a footnote to your glory ‘Cause you’re my Jupiter I wish I orbited anyone else but you But I’m stuck out here with Jupiter Stuck out in the cold With Io and Europa and all the others you’ve Screwed over Screwed up Straight up screwed All the moons stuck in your pull Your lack of light Known only for fucking you For bearing your weight Gardening your ego And growing that head Bigger than Jupiter

I have fifteen tattoos, have jumped out of three planes, climbed the tallest mountains in every continent, and have been married seven times. There is only one that I regret, the one that started this whole adventure.

I warn you, it’s awful, one I regret, and I’m only telling the story because of a dare.

See, I dated a woman because of a bet, and her brother cursed me. Now I have to take every bet, every dare, every time someone says ‘no balls’. It doesn’t seem that bad, but I also know every member of my local hospital’s staff. I’m very deep in debt, and live with the man who cursed me.

Of course, the curse doesn’t affect dares of the original one’s nature. I can turn those down just fine, and always will.

Hey, he didn’t specify how long this had to be, or how good the writing had to be.

I survive on loopholes.

Know that death comes with love, I will wipe away your tears, Turn you away from the body you leave

Know that death comes with a price, Not of emptiness or metaphor, But your fare to cross the river

Know there is a place for you, Whether you believe in fields or brimstone, Or nothing at all

Know that your self is not a crime, Your judgement comes with care, And a great deal of tissues

Know that I love each of life’s children, And cannot wait to escort you home

Every day, I break down Whether from stress or sound It depends on who’s around Who’s there to guide me When I can’t get out

Every day I break down Mourning what could have been I don’t mean lost relationships I mean my lost marbles I just want to heal

Every day I break down The same old wounds reopening I’m always over or undereating Seeing faces in the walls, Or shadows in the halls

Every day a break down Ever a battle of strength Fighting urges to remove fingers Little voice calling to me Little voice calling to burn

Every day a break down My mother says I’m fine Dad thinks I’m a genius Brother thinks I’m a badass But I know I’m broken

Nothing. My eyes are still filled with tears, my thoughts are still full of hurt, but I feel nothing. The tears refuse to fall, though I know they should, so I sit in the kitchen, watching the candles burn. There’s one for every family death that’s happened on this day, plus Oscar Wilde’s. One for Lyall , from last year, one for Fang, and several more that I’m not sure I could name if I tried. I know he was only a cat, but I still loved him, he was still part of the family, and I should be feeling things. But every time I try to cry, my emotions stop in their tracks. I have plenty of reason, death and depression, circumstance and pie, but I still feel nothing when I need to. When I got the news that my cat died, all I wanted to do was laugh, and I’m really not sure why. Who the fuck laughs? I guess this is just more proof that I’m broken, another thing to add to the fucking list. No. You know what? I’m done. I am fucking done with this brain, with this fucking brain that I’ve been given. I’ve been dealt a Hell of a hand, and I’m ready to either fold or kill the dealer. And the latter is looking pretty fucking good right now. I don’t care how unreasonable it is, I am done feeling broken and miserable, and I am done hurting other people, and I am even more fucking done with whoever the fuck is looking down on me and watching. I am done with whatever god decided to take that amazing fucking woman out of this world before she really had a chance to get started. I am done with whoever decided that cat had lived long enough, had had enough fucking happiness, and stopped enough panic attacks. Shit, I broke the lighter. Guess I better go swing around a foil and listen to metal until I don’t want to murder every fucking being who much as looks at me.

The world is darker than in death. Thanatos’s skin shines like a full moon, though his wings seem to suck in all color. His eyes were swirling pools of beauty, like the pictures from the Hubble Telescope. It was a harsh wake up call to have him pulled from my sight, to be yanked back into reality. I should be grateful, but I am furious. I had freedom, it was right in front of me, his hand outstretched, his smile luring me in- But you revived me. And at what cost? I’m no less suicidal than I was this morning, we’re no less doomed than we were five minutes ago. But now your lightning has scorched my lips and scarred my throat. Your kiss of life has torn away my speech. Hero my ass.