broken bikes

of wrecks

someone stop me,

i am burning

not from the outside,

but on the inside,

where you cannot see

the scorched ashes

floating in my lungs

my heart has been

charred and blackened;

if you were to reach down my throat,

and attempt to curl your fingers

around the most fragile of organs,

you would find nothing more

than a cracked stone

someone stop me,

i am on fire,

and the matches are nestled

not in my hands,

but somewhere in my ribs,

roasting my flesh

and searing my bones

there are no dreams in my head,

they have all been obliterated

by the darkness that seeps in;

if you were to search through my thoughts,

you would be disturbed 

by the stark lack of optimism,

you would hurt for me

someone stop me,

i am vanishing

into thin air and out of sight;

but there is no you

to reach down my throat and find my heart,

and there is no you

to search through my thoughts for optimism

there is no you,

and that is why i am vanishing

because there is no one

to stall the burning,

to quench the fire,

to retrieve the matches;

there is no one to stop me