I am a long list of synonyms
For the word “terrified.”
Most days, I couldn’t even tell you
Why it is that
Kissing you feels like
A twenty story free-fall;
A swan dive into a slab of concrete
Like swerving into oncoming traffic
Sometimes the butterflies in my stomach
Turn into a hornets nest
And I am unsure of how to handle it
When your heart falls asleep
Next to the hole in my chest
I keep thinking that you’re only here
Until you get sick of me,
But you never say anything about
My cold smile
Or my ice cube teeth.
I think you’re trying to melt me
Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 5:56 PM UTC
for every pierced ear on
every girl on planet earth,
i can count another reason why
i am not like them.
they say i just haven't found my place yet,
but they don't know
i've had the map backwards my whole life
i'm lost the way a shoe on the side of the highway is lost
i'm the crack in the wall
that your mother covered with a painting
i'm the bulb in a string of lights
that burned too bright and flickered and died
i've been sitting on my emotions for so long
they're only pins and needles now
nobody screamed when
i asked the world to forget about me
like when you say something in a crowded room
and nobody even looks at you
all i have to do is ask myself for
a way out; look myself in the eye
and say, "it doesn't have to be this way,"
i think about last november
that day i lost blood in the bathtub
as the water got colder
and i keep my mouth shut
but i think that i am cursed
to walk through life with glass
in my eyes, and i'll get my
ride in a hearse before i
am twenty-five.
there's shrapnel and
pieces of old photographs inside
every scar on my left arm.
dirt and grime
from the last five places i've lived reside
inside every canyon carved.
all i want is for somebody to
look into the hollow sockets of my head and
see me
but i don't think i need a heart to
sleep next to the hole in my
chest, i just need to put
this thing to rest
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 12:13 AM UTC
"i bet death feels like emdless, dreamless sleep." this is the source of my near constant anxiety. I wish i knew God. i don't believe in anything. i didn't think about what that meant until after i tried to **** myself. endless, dreamless sleep. maybe there are dreams, few and far between. feels like nothing. imagine nothing. i exist, feel these things, take up space, die and feel nothing nothing nothing. but then the infrequent dreams become more. constant lucid dreams where the neon sky vibrates and the entire world does what i tell it to.
i am not afraid to die.
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 2:17 AM UTC
did i ever tell you about
the dream i had where
your name was on
every page of my phone book
and all the numbers were wrong
what about the one where
i'm in the hospital
and every doctor that
checks my pulse and takes my blood
has your face
or how about the one where
you're dying of cancer
and you can't stop yourself
from living life too fast?
and you swear the answer to
every question is a
significant something from your past
like
cigarette smoke and diet coke
and the weary tone of your grandfather's voice
as he spoke about the end of all things
and we had to remind you to stop
saying such sharp things as
words sliced your throat
and we all choked.
what about the one where
you roll your eyes at me
as we're flying through the windshield
your spine snapped as you
told me it was my fault
we crashed the car
i spit my heart up on the pavement
and watch it beat.
how about the one where
you keep sticking your fingers
in my hair to warm them up, and
every time you pull away
my mouth falls open and fills the room
with a thousand reasons to stay
or how about all the bad ones
where the only time your eyes hold
any color is when they aren't
locked with mine
the ones where the entire world
goes silent when you speak
and i can never quite catch
what you're saying.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
somewhere beyond the baseball fields
inside my mind
i see myself in a linden tree
toes grazing the grass
with the perfect knot of a noose
tight around my neck
the names of all the people
i've never met
and all the places
i've never been
fall from my mouth
and from my mother's eyes
i won't apologize
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC
every single time
you smile at me
something in my head
malfunctions
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 5:33 PM UTC
i'm constantly stuck between
bones and blood and amphetamines
i keep thinking that
i can have it all if i just find the right scene
and i can see toxic thoughts like toxic waste
contaminating the oceans of my mind
a bitter aftertaste, a better nursery rhyme
the glowing eyes of my demons
reflecting off the blade of a knife
and the half smiling rings on the coffee table
are the only things keeping me
company at night
i never thought i'd ever describe pain as
"bright"
"vibrant"
"almost warm in the right light"
i'm stuck here, falling apart
a glass object breaking in slow motion
becoming bones before tomorrow starts
fissures turn to fractures, an explosion
kids these days call that abstract art
who i am hates who i used to be,
and who i was always wanted to be
this
a human typewriter who knows
how everyone's stories begin and end
a tree limb that never breaks, only bends
the back end of a horse
a street with a dead-end
a best friend a godsend
wind me up and watch me pretend
turning circles and spitting up my
heart on my bedroom floor.
"this is as good as it gets, my friend."
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
and suddenly time stops
after weeks and weeks of moving too fast
the stillness makes my head spin
or maybe you make my head spin
because there you are
a friend of a friend
standing in the living room
had it been my living room
i'd have asked you to leave
our history was crashing around
inside of my skull
a ricocheting bullet i didn't know how to stop
as it were
all i could do was stand there
statue still in the doorway
frozen in time
your silhouette blurred against
the afternoon sunlight streaming in
through the window
and i stared for moment after long moment
wanting
wishing
needing you to be someone else
and just like in all my bad dreams
when i scrounged up the courage to greet you
your face fell into an expressionless mask
our eyes barely met
your irises the same shade
as the coffee that holds my eyes open every morning
and nothing fell from your mouth
i tried hard not to feel anything
i know you were as terrified as me
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
this is how it happens
it's the last day the temperature will be
above thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit
until February
you're not looking at the date
it's just the end of November
the middle of the night in the middle of a road
at the end of November
the hum of this small town hurts your ears
you're stuck in a dream where everything you see
turns into a weapon
this is how it happens
you knocked back sharp, amber liquid
to make this place feel a little more okay
and it only worked halfway
no matter how soft the edges are
you bruise your hips when you
run into them in the dark
you're ******* on your fourth cigarette when
a police officer pulls over and asks
how you're doing today
in the too-bright white of the headlights
the sick taste of Red Stag sticks to
the roof of your mouth
the mouth that you're moving into a smile
the mouth exhaling plumes of smoke at the ground
you're okay
"i'm okay."
you don't tell him what you're really doing
you're really taking all of your
thoughts about stopping your pulse for a walk
you don't tell him you've been
chasing ambulances all night long
please, officer don't leave me alone, you don't say
he tells you to have a good night and drives away
and this is how it happens
the moon smiles at you with every single one
of its tiny, sharp teeth
nobody but your cat finds you in that bathtub
nobody but your cat watches you rise from red water
watches it drip drip drip
from every chasm carved in your left arm
nobody but your cat saw the soft animal of your soul
shiver from the cold that day
it's the first day the temperature
dropped below
thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit inside your chest
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 9:48 AM UTC
And my problem is that i don't know
where to start or how to end.
I live in ellipses,
commas, and dramatic pauses
and I pretend that I'm doing it on purpose.
When you saw through the blur in my head,
you told me all about my heart and
how out of sync it was with my mind.
And I was sitting right next to you when
I hid a letter in a box,
tucked it right between your running shoes,
but it's December,
and you don't run when there's snow on the ground.
I told you I was a baseball field,
empty at two in the morning,
dust settling, but I don't think you
knew what I meant.
So I told you that my bathroom sink
has swallowed more demons than gallons,
and that I lay on my kitchen floor
more often than I sit on my couch,
and that I am hemorrhaging indigo
and dry-heaving maroon late at night
when you are asleep,
and maybe you only pretended
to understand what I was talking about.
They're all sick of me
ending statements with "never mind,"
downplaying my madness to keep them calm.
I told my dad I loved him for the first time
in two years, and followed up by
stealing my grandfather's anxiety medication
to sedate the butterflies in my stomach.
I like to think I know what it feels like to be dead.
Like sleep, only colder. Darker.
Less and less until I only exist as
stains on people's brains.
I always liked the number zero.
I am the journal I threw out two nights ago
without checking the pages for things to keep.
I am three days awake, bloodshot eyes,
six cups of black coffee first thing in the morning,
and black-out curtains at three in the afternoon.
I am a suicide car and a pedestrian who never looks both ways.
I'm my own worst enemy.
Someday, I'll light a few candles to set the mood and
take a bath with my toaster.
I am an appendix; nobody needs me.
I'm full of **** and I need removing.
And I guess you should know that I am not sorry.
You're going to find that letter tucked between your shoes
come spring, written by someone who isn't red stains
on bathroom linolium. She was
rainbow streaks that the sun plastered to your livingroom walls
at eight in the morning.
At least, that's what you told me.
I don't think I knew what you meant.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 2:10 AM UTC