The  dormancy of my linguistics,
          doesn't mean  I'm ignorant.

But I jest at the wastefulness
                                  of breath.

To expel the fortitude of such.

    Anger is to give me weakness
           of character, and you undue
                                        strength.

I may seem like the sheep,
                   but do not take my

muteness, as a respite of no validation.

For one is most aware when all is smothered
                      in contemplation.

And then you are like a crumpled leaf,
                    silent and calm....

I didn't utter a word, I just walked away.
            letting you take in the view
of me not caring that you were in my shadow.

Not uttering  your worth, but I showed you
                that silence can knock down the
                                              strongest word.

It was never about trust or promises or destiny, was it?
All you cared about was money, your life, your health, and your lusts.

You threw me away as if I was a crumpled paper,
my words didn't matter to you,
neither did my feelings.

Yet I stayed by your side,
because I thought that I could see a change in you.
I thought I would...
Alas, I only wasted my time and yours,
and also the food I cooked.

i have anxiety
undiagnosed.
well that’s not true i’ve been to therapists, psychologists.
many, so many doctor appointments.
i have old medications for it, i haven’t kept up with
i don’t like the way they force my brain
to conform to the usual and to feel a certain way

sometimes it feels like my head is stuffed with an overflowing amount of crumpled paper *****
piling up crowding the available space in my frontal lobe
the things i never said, the things i should have never said,
the things that someone never said to me.
that special someone that holds hands with the prettier girl
about two feet away from me.
she’s a better fit for you. i guess
the grade that i got on my last math test but really don’t care about
because by this point i’m habituated to the sting of failure.
i sit in my room and cry by myself because my nerves feel like they are ripping apart
or maybe it’s the sensation of exploding
similar to the creation of a star, or i guess in my case,
the painful closure of a life well lived.
of a time far too stressed.

my brain feels very full while simultaneously existing almost on empty.
i wake up from a drowsy late afternoon depression nap with
my neurons firing too fast for me to catch up with and a weirdly powerful
and persevering sense of anger or maybe it’s frustration.
i feel like i’m stuck in a crevasse between the cliffs of successful and beautiful
but maybe i’ve always been here
living in the pits of my insanity stuck under the weights of my anxiety

all of these things are written on these crumpled pieces of paper
there are so many of them, i used to be in control, not anymore
the world feels as if it’s tumbling out of my hands
rolling down the hill and crushing my motivation with it
there are so many things on my mind
right now that no more would be able to fit 
in my brain, it’s overcrowded like an LA rush hour
with time speeding by, with me just sat there working from my tower.

i have reached maximum capacity
and yet i can't stop thinking things,
i can't stop saying stupid things,
i can't stop wishing things. 
i sigh, i reach up to my forehead and i swipe away remnants of exhaustion
and bend down to pick up my backpack that weighs far more than it should
with my shaky hands caused by a high intake of caffeine
that i now require just to stay awake in class
i’m tired but as i sit here avoiding responsibilities
and the anxiety that often travels along with it

i'm hoping that one day when i get to this place
of unbearable tensions in my shoulders
and stress that pulls the insanity directly from my mind
that translates to unrelenting tears falling from my eyes.
the top of my head will crank itself open
and all of these crumpled pieces of thoughts and worries
will pour out into a neat little pile
on the floor 
and disappear
at least for just a while.
that would be nice.
as my arms let go and the tension falls away along with my body
letting go of the stress and the pressures of
holding those pillars together
and fall through the sky
just so i have enough time to
take a truly deep breath.

here’s to a peaceful ending,
a crumbled paper ball fate.

crumpled among the change
brushing against lint
surrounded by hollow wrappers
and peppermint swirls
Forgotten
deep in my pocket

our happiness captured
so much has changed

I could write you away
Into a million poems
Escape from your being
As you are sprawled out
On a thousand crumpled sheets
Thrown in many dust bins
Or caught under the bed
Maybe lying on the desk
Or trapped inside my mind.

When I was sleeping
I had a dream
That I was you
And you were me

But we were really
The same person

Then I
Looked in the mirror
And she was staring back at me
And she looked in the mirror
And he was staring back at me

Take
Me
Home

We
Are
One

I will write meaningless poems about you
my nonexistent emotions fill blank pages
the invisible feelings will choke on the ink stained paper
disgorging emptiness becoming an extension of who I am.

but, my words still pour onto the page unwilling to stop for anything
a storm of letters against the hard white surface
which crash violently into one another
ending in a pile of bad clichés and broken pencil tips
solely because I can’t allow myself
to write meaningful poems
anymore.