If there was one word
One word, isolated by itself
That I cannot stand above all others
It would have to be "Okay"
I despise "Okay"
"Okay"
Is how your millionth day at work went
"Okay"
Is off-brand raisin bran
"Okay"
Is how you say life is going
When you don't want to admit you spend
Every second of it
Wanting to die
"Okay"
Is packed to the brim with
Hidden implications
Like a treasure chest
Filled with bottles
With little subliminal hatreds
Written on tiny slips of paper
Passively aggressively pushed inside
To discover later
As I pull out a treasure map
And try to decipher
Where I went wrong
"Okay"
Is a one word dismissal
That feels like an essay a thousand pages long
"Okay"
Is a poison dripping with disinterest
When I dared to share with you
Something I thought might make you smile
"Okay"
Is like trying to talk to a wall
While watching the paint on it dry
"Okay"
Takes two seconds to write
Yet I waited days
For that dreaded word
To grace my notifications
"Okay"
Should be used sparingly
As if each time you send it
You **** the receiver just a little bit
"Okay"
Should not be said so often that
I know what you're about to say
Like I saw it in a crystal ball
"Okay"
Is not looking up from your phone
When I tell you about my day
"Okay"
Is not the proper response
To "I love you"
They say that the opposite of love isn't hatred
It's indifference
And I can't think of a response
More indifferent to pouring out
My heart into your hands
Than "Okay"
At least the last thing you said to me
Before we parted ways
Showed that you cared
At least a little bit
"I hate you"
Stung less
Than the thousands of times
Over our countless conversations
You responded
"Okay"
Okay?
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 4:06 AM UTC
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 4:19 AM UTC
Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 6:25 AM UTC
Around me the world buzzes
As everyone speaks and no one
Listens,
And my silence kills me
When I'm right,
I'm quiet
When I'm wrong,
I'm quiet
When I'm asked,
I'm quiet
When I'm told,
I'm quiet
And these thoughts ricochet
Around behind the mask
Of mediocrity and submission
That I wear
for the
world
And the more I hear,
The more I think,
The less I say,
The faster I rot away
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
Our hearts are not
all they seem to be.
They are not just
muscles pumping blood
throughout our bodies.
They are the most
intricate of beacons,
thumping out a frequency
and listening to the rhythms
of every other heart.
Some hearts share
segments of the same beat,
but ultimately, unfortunately,
are not the same as the
tune your own heart sings.
Until that day comes
(and it always comes)
when your heart
and another's
sync up.
And together they make
a symphony so beautiful
that it manifests into
a physical attraction
and an emotional bond.
So I'm here waiting,
and I'll keep on waiting,
until my heart
and another's
make the melody of love.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 6:17 AM UTC
i used to be
afraid of death
isn't that funny
because now
i like killing myself
i like the feeling of
being torn apart by
other people's opinions
i beg them to tell the truth
even when i know
it's not what i want to hear
tell me
tell me you liked my hair longer
before i cut it short
tell me
tell me i'm too skinny
that i should put on some weight
tell me
tell me you're shocked
tell me i should know these basic things
i want the truth
not a sugar coating
and i don't exactly want it to hurt
but i'm starting to think
it is better than nothing
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 5:49 AM UTC
i want you
in every way there is to want a person
from lazy rainy days
sitting around in underwear
wrapped up in the covers
enveloped in each other
to lustful late nights
high happy and in love
too absorbed with each other
to focus on anything else
i want you
and i see so much in you
that counting all your perfections
would be like counting the stars
there's too many to keep track of
and they just seem endless
i am utterly in love
with every inch of your being
every corner of your mind
and everything in between
i might not know what i believe
or where i'm going
or what i'm doing
but i do hope
you'll hold my hand
and wander blindly with me
because as long as i'm with you
i don't need a destination
you are the journey
i am simply enamored with your entity
captivated by your character
fascinated
infatuated
amorous
in love
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 6:27 AM UTC
Having Depression is like finding out that mermaids are real
It doesn’t make sense to you until you’re getting dragged to the bottom of the ocean
And then you think
Oh
That’s what this is
And I’m drowning now,
That’s just……… great
And eventually, with your last vestiges of breath left
You float back to the surface
And you’re fine.
And that’s it.
Mermaids stop existing again.
Because you never actually saw what grabbed you
You only felt the claws around your leg
The cold, clammy hands tugging
With a force that you could never fight against
But you never saw her
So it was all a dream
Right?
And it happens again and again
You are drowning again and again
Until the water begins to feel like home
And the only thing reminding you that you are alive
Is the burning in your lungs
And when everything you had balanced so very carefully starts falling
Off the shelves of your life
When your “mild” depression starts deciding it wants to be more
When being alone makes you feel dead inside
And when losing your cool for one ******* second makes you contemplate your own demise
When do you admit to yourself that you are slipping
You are sinking and just because you can slow your descent
Does not mean that you’re not still drowning
And at the end of the day just because it took you longer to get there this time
Doesn’t mean you aren’t still lying on the ocean floor
Devoid of light and sound
And if you had just climbed onto that now distant boat and sailed away
You’d be fine.
But climbing was too hard
And sinking is so much easier
And you’re scared that if you reach out
Your hands will feel clammy and cold
As they wrap around your friends throats
And drag them down with you
And you would rather rot at the bottom of an endless sea
Than let that happen
So you lie in darkness and wait
For a sound
The singular resounding sound
Of failure
And you slowly float back to the surface
Take a deep breath
And you’re fine.
Because mermaids aren’t real
It’s all in your head
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 7:54 AM UTC
I've discovered Hell, and the truth is,
It isn't a place you go, it's a sickness.
It resides within your bones
And its scaffolding is made from trauma.
The only fire you'll find is from the white-hot flashbacks
That leave you drenched in sweat that smells like smoke.
No-one lives there except you and your enemies,
And your enemies are fragments of history, unable to be killed.
Your mind is the devil that subjects you to punishment
That you can't help but be convinced that you deserve,
And escape is a notion kept only for tears;
Everything else remains trapped.
Hell is being held within the cage of your own body
And killing yourself trying to break free.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 7:05 AM UTC
Sitting here,
feeling like part of me
has died.
I hate these walls
and these people
that surround me,
boxing me in,
squashing my dreams,
making me hate myself.
This ball of pain,
pit of darkness,
where my heart once was.
Somebody help me.
Somebody save me.
Before I lose myself.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC