done for

"we are done for"
carved, cut, sewn and drawn.

you used to believe
in fate.
and now you're not sure
what you believe in at all.

you knew from the moment
the word 'love' popped into your head
not so slow
like flowers blooming
but more like
a child's dream dissipating
that you would be destroyed by this

and now
you sit and decay
uncomfortable in your own skin
nails digging
skin catching under them
red raw and still stressed
cliché and yet
it's you.

you may be eating your words
soon enough
bleached plates
hot, hot water
the memory burns your mouth
from plate to fork to tongue
the poison follows.

with photosynthesis
sunlight is turned into energy,
and with hatred
anger is turned into anything you want.

this is where it gets
you.

it's over and you know it
and you'd feel bad
because you brought this upon
so many others before.
but your heart is somewhere
hitching rides on trains
and ghost-town ferris wheels.

and just
gone.