seems so selfless
how could it be just to keep me from exploding from guilt?
turns out forgiveness is for the offender
there is no comfort for the victim
except a way forward

starving as he was,
the snow could not hinder
the undying rage
beneath his fur, his skin—
it was boiling,
as if to erupt,
to evolve into
something entirely
different.

wailing, he kept walking
despite the weight of it all,
shredding every piece
of humanity ever
afforded to him.
it was then
that he realized
animals were never
concerned with rights
or wrongs—
only what was
in their hearts,
or their craving.

he kept his fangs
showing, his claws
sharp enough to maim,
to turn his next friend
into a victim—
just so he can go back,
rest, and live
another god-awful day.

When I look at the poems from my past,
Sometimes I smile.
Then I feel mad.
The age I was, becomes so apparent to me.

The younger version of me feels some kind of, well, something.
Each time I take a trip down memory lane
It's hard to not feel something when I remember the pain.

But when I look at the situation today,
After all that I've encountered...
Each stone I've flipped over, and
every waterfall I've checked behind,

I feel so mad at you.

Even the poems we wrote back and forth,
They're so childish, you reference cartoons.
I would have done anything for you,
You plucked me out of my broken world and threw me onto the rift.

I fell asleep at night telling myself stories about an empty apartment with a mattress.
It's so uncomfortable now to look back at.
The fact that you were the hope I had for my future.

It's not okay and I'll never stop thinking this way.

The waiting list has an opening
Here's to new hopes and beginnings.
Will therapy benefit me once again
or will I end up hurt in the end?
There is so much I need to fix
and so much to come to terms with.
I never noticed,
and because of me the one who was closest
no longer is.
Why did things have to turn out the way they did?
It's so cliche but I'd do anything to start over again.
There is nothing like having a friend
who you feel so connected with
But when I pick through my nostalgia
I'm left to wonder where the connection is
What do I really know about you?
What was true?
Where did things start to go bad?
The exchanging of passwords I think.
I think that's where it began.
After I saw the things you had said
My heart started to turn black.
It's normal to be mad and say things you don't mean when you don't think anyone's looking.
But you were so important to me back then
I will never forget the feeling I had.
I should have just told you back then that it hurt my feelings
Gotta love growing up with no boundaries
No choices when it came to yes or no
I got hit if I contemplated it
Came to write poems on the internet
And would be groomed by countless men
Think I was in love because of things they said
But I was eleven and they were gross
I played games with you and laughed
Then I'd cry to men I didn't know
In exchange for pictures that made me feel like an adult
Infatuation is a ***** for middle school kids
At least for this girl it was
I'd word ***** so much
Honestly I never stopped
Validation is a drug stronger than any other
I love to feel like I matter
Especially when I care about the person too
I think that's a huge key to why we were a we in my mind.
Whenever I was with you I was high
Until I wasn't, jealousy hit me hard
When I'd see you making plans with others
I always wondered why we couldn't call
Why it was awkward to play games after all
The time that passed between us
I think you knew way before I did
Just how toxic I was
Another guy and I broke up
My insecurities told me you thought I was a ****
A new relationship and I was gone
I don't think we spoke for months
This relationship is different
I think I'm actually in love
I debated infatuation since learning what it was
I wanted to talk to you about it
Eventually I did
I smothered you and hated when I couldn't
Months go by, I'm still word vomiting
You try to set boundaries
I still can't read the messages without crying
I didn't understand and chose to pretend instead
I ignored you and you distanced
It felt like you had passed away.
I try to say hi and it's so awkward
I wished I would die
You reach out and I feel so happy I could fly
I tell you everything I had been holding in
You disappear from my inbox and I cry
This is so toxic I'm in bed grieving a friend
Left to wonder why I do this
The counselor on the line says enmeshment
And I hate myself as I sob to a stranger about you for an hour.
Searching for therapists never made me feel like such a loser.
Wait list, wait list full, wait list
Months pass
You didn't wish me a happy birthday and for the first time in years I didn't tell you either.
I sent nothing.
I'm a bad friend.
New job, New accounts, New acquaintances
I still think of you but only cry on the drive home
Sun sets are pretty
I sit outside with my dog and look at the sky
I think she can feel my pain when she looks in my eyes
It rained for weeks and now the leaves are changing around me
I can live without you and you without me.
You reached out and I crumbled again
I told you about my 988 experience
Why do I do this
I have an episode
I'm the heaviest I have ever been.
But I'm off the therapy wait list.

I can't learn to let you go,
You toy with my bruised used youth,
And I need to need you,

Even whilst the
black and blue spreads.

I scurry around the kitchen floor
Picking up the crumbs I find.
This is not the life we asked for,
But the 'adults' play deaf, dumb and blind.

I am afraid that this is my home,
Though, I know you do not want me here,
But where else do I have to roam?
Outside gets cold this time of year.

So I scuttle from the kitchen to my room,
Hot in the knowledge that I am disgusting.
Society would have the streets, my tomb
To spend eternity in entropy, rusting.

Like the Cockroach
We are victims of circumstance,
But we know our enemy and wait
For a call to arms, for our chance.

From my miserable cavity, out spills terror;
An illusion waiting to bite, the heavy desire of hunger
Splatter and traumatize with desire
Eyes creeping around the corner
When the shadow swiftly descends,
The next victim has been found.

~
stationary now
duct tape loves
mouth and hands

inside removable interiors
heliocentric discontinuities:

the racket club
and the backstroke
the rabid club
and the hallucinogenic backchannels

swallowing too many placebos
on his balcony
facing away from the sun
blank diary entry
open on the table
'from despair to where?'

stationary in the trunk now
he says it will all
make sense soon
~