sillosero - Hello Poetry

So my mental illnesses and I are talking In my head And it looks like one of those support groups And I'm sitting in the middle They all have their own outfits Anxiety wears a hoodie, my favorite pants Depression wears pajamas that I've worn three days in a row Autism is wearing the third new outfit that day PTSD is wearing what I wore that Christmas day when my childhood ended

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Dec 12, 2022

Dec 12, 2022 at 11:27 AM UTC

A Conversation

So my mental illnesses and I are talking In my head And it looks like one of those support groups And I'm sitting in the middle They all have their own outfits Anxiety wears a hoodie, my favorite pants Depression wears pajamas that I've worn three days in a row Autism is wearing the third new outfit that day PTSD is wearing what I wore that Christmas day when my childhood ended

9

TW : eating disorder, suicide attempt, abuse In my phone There’s a contact name that’s just swear words The occasional bad bad word that I can say in therapy but don’t in public And it’s my mom’s contact name I changed it after our 1millionth fight Right before I left for uni Because she called me fat And at the time I was five months sober of my eating disorder Maybe sober isn’t the right word but whatever And my brain snaps I scream and cry She screams back at me I call her “fat” back because I’m mad And I spend the night sobbing I even call my abusive dad who chose to leave therapy because he thinks he’s getting better He hasn’t left his girlfriend who restricted food from me yet so, are you sure Dad? And he tries the whole facetime while I audibly cry to not sound mean about her And I thank him for trying in my head Because my mom only refers to him as slurs or Satan I eat the entire cake she got me in the fridge the next day Before even noon I feel bad immediately after but at least she can’t have any And then I’m suddenly jealous that she didn’t have any So no weight gain I drink two cups of iced coffee with that extra calorie Starbucks syrup And then my sister gets me Popeyes She gets me this after yelling at our mother Because we don’t really talk that much openly But we both have our own scars from her words Mine developed into eating disorders, cuts on my legs, and just general mental illness Hers just developed into being a rock solid wall When my mom comes home and sees me eating She takes a bite

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Aug 20, 2022

Aug 20, 2022 at 11:07 AM UTC

My Mom

TW : eating disorder, suicide attempt, abuse In my phone There’s a contact name that’s just swear words The occasional bad bad word that I can say in therapy but don’t in public And it’s my mom’s contact name I changed it after our 1millionth fight Right before I left for uni Because she called me fat And at the time I was five months sober of my eating disorder Maybe sober isn’t the right word but whatever And my brain snaps I scream and cry She screams back at me I call her “fat” back because I’m mad And I spend the night sobbing I even call my abusive dad who chose to leave therapy because he thinks he’s getting better He hasn’t left his girlfriend who restricted food from me yet so, are you sure Dad? And he tries the whole facetime while I audibly cry to not sound mean about her And I thank him for trying in my head Because my mom only refers to him as slurs or Satan I eat the entire cake she got me in the fridge the next day Before even noon I feel bad immediately after but at least she can’t have any And then I’m suddenly jealous that she didn’t have any So no weight gain I drink two cups of iced coffee with that extra calorie Starbucks syrup And then my sister gets me Popeyes She gets me this after yelling at our mother Because we don’t really talk that much openly But we both have our own scars from her words Mine developed into eating disorders, cuts on my legs, and just general mental illness Hers just developed into being a rock solid wall When my mom comes home and sees me eating She takes a bite

34

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up I walked up the creaky stairs and made myself coffee My favorite Dunkin Donuts cup, filled to the top with ice, coffee left out from the night before, and chocolate milk I wiped the coffee off the counter and filled the dishwasher I added salt to my avocado with eggs and toast I sluggishly made my bed The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love Not with the girl I talk to everyday on my phone Or the grocer who always smiled extra long at me I fell in love with my mother as she sat in my room, Looking through each notebook, looking for all the signs Dusting off the rainbow flag I never took out of it's packaging I fell in love with my brother, who worked desperately at the construction site, Making new things as he tried to forget I wasn’t there to say “How was work?" When he comes home I fell in love with my niece, Texting my friends what happened, Crying in the same room we laughed and had sleepovers in I watched the family dogs, Who pointed their nose when squirrels run past I saw the empty space in Stella’s eyes When she jumped on my bed to snuggle and there was nothing under the covers I saw the coldness in Maple's heart as she searched and searched my room for me How Mama cuddled into the blankets, waiting for me I stood by as she protected my Mom during walks, just as she used to do for me I picked the purple flowers and some dandelions on the side of the house And put them where I used to sit in the woods The morning after I killed myself, I stayed up all night to watch the sun come up The morning after I killed myself, I went to the morgue and gazed at that body Wondered if death was truly worth it I carefully touched all the scars, all the markings no one ever saw but us I told him about the avocado toast, the friends, the dogs, the woods, and his family I told him about the sunsets and the brother and the warm blankets The morning after I killed myself, I cried and cried

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Nov 15, 2021

Nov 15, 2021 at 4:19 PM UTC

The morning after I killed myself

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up I walked up the creaky stairs and made myself coffee My favorite Dunkin Donuts cup, filled to the top with ice, coffee left out from the night before, and chocolate milk I wiped the coffee off the counter and filled the dishwasher I added salt to my avocado with eggs and toast I sluggishly made my bed The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love Not with the girl I talk to everyday on my phone Or the grocer who always smiled extra long at me I fell in love with my mother as she sat in my room, Looking through each notebook, looking for all the signs Dusting off the rainbow flag I never took out of it's packaging I fell in love with my brother, who worked desperately at the construction site, Making new things as he tried to forget I wasn’t there to say “How was work?" When he comes home I fell in love with my niece, Texting my friends what happened, Crying in the same room we laughed and had sleepovers in I watched the family dogs, Who pointed their nose when squirrels run past I saw the empty space in Stella’s eyes When she jumped on my bed to snuggle and there was nothing under the covers I saw the coldness in Maple's heart as she searched and searched my room for me How Mama cuddled into the blankets, waiting for me I stood by as she protected my Mom during walks, just as she used to do for me I picked the purple flowers and some dandelions on the side of the house And put them where I used to sit in the woods The morning after I killed myself, I stayed up all night to watch the sun come up The morning after I killed myself, I went to the morgue and gazed at that body Wondered if death was truly worth it I carefully touched all the scars, all the markings no one ever saw but us I told him about the avocado toast, the friends, the dogs, the woods, and his family I told him about the sunsets and the brother and the warm blankets The morning after I killed myself, I cried and cried

34

I mention me being in therapy during my Gender & Women's Studies Class zoom And there's silence A very long silence that leaves me wondering 'are people judging?' 'are people piting me?' There's no good answer My teacher changes the subject and I'm left feeling guilty For wanting to get better For wanting to stop hurting myself For wanting to understand why my parents abused me I wonder how many teachers wonder what I do when I turn off my microphone and camera during zoom I'm not checking my phone or I'm camera shy I'm crying in the basement No one upstairs in the house can hear me No one in class can see or hear me We're in small groups now I fear people can tell I was crying There's another silence And this time it's sadder than the one before My friend 'it's okay i go to therapy too' I say 'i know' I'm left wondering why no one said anything Why there was a hushed silence? Why was I supposed to feel guilt for something that's not my fault? That's never been my fault?

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Sep 16, 2020

Sep 16, 2020 at 8:50 AM UTC

Silence

I mention me being in therapy during my Gender & Women's Studies Class zoom And there's silence A very long silence that leaves me wondering 'are people judging?' 'are people piting me?' There's no good answer My teacher changes the subject and I'm left feeling guilty For wanting to get better For wanting to stop hurting myself For wanting to understand why my parents abused me I wonder how many teachers wonder what I do when I turn off my microphone and camera during zoom I'm not checking my phone or I'm camera shy I'm crying in the basement No one upstairs in the house can hear me No one in class can see or hear me We're in small groups now I fear people can tell I was crying There's another silence And this time it's sadder than the one before My friend 'it's okay i go to therapy too' I say 'i know' I'm left wondering why no one said anything Why there was a hushed silence? Why was I supposed to feel guilt for something that's not my fault? That's never been my fault?

23

Do you know what it's like to be left alone in love? Do you know what it's like to feel stuck in love? Do you know what it's like to be too depressed? Do you know what it's like to have to beg for forever from your family who neglects your identity? Do you know what it's like to lose everything? Do you know what it's like to wait? Do you know that I will never be too near or too far away? Honestly, I'm still waiting for closure. Do you know how it feels to constantly chase memories? Do you know I've got miles of scars no one's ever seen? And an appetite. And a sweet tooth.

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Jul 20, 2020

Jul 20, 2020 at 4:18 PM UTC

Do you know?

Do you know what it's like to be left alone in love? Do you know what it's like to feel stuck in love? Do you know what it's like to be too depressed? Do you know what it's like to have to beg for forever from your family who neglects your identity? Do you know what it's like to lose everything? Do you know what it's like to wait? Do you know that I will never be too near or too far away? Honestly, I'm still waiting for closure. Do you know how it feels to constantly chase memories? Do you know I've got miles of scars no one's ever seen? And an appetite. And a sweet tooth.

12

I was born on December 19th at about 11:43 pm. I've never been able to tell if I'm being insulted or complimented. I can get away with blaming my indecisiveness on being me. I'm 5'5. I weigh who knows how much. I'm scared of my mom. I'm a real sucker for people with dimples and comfy leggings with giant pockets. I can't drive. I like iced coffee and writing poetry more than the oxygen I need to survive. I have strange fascinations with things like ratted, old Converse and the shape of my self-made scars. They remind me that everything is temporary, but the pain stays. I assume this is why I'm obsessed with drawing my scars as different things: stars, trees, a new poem. I watch the sunset from a hammock every night. Sometimes, I ask myself why so much of my time is invested in things that are only temporary and hope they come back. I'm afraid of heights but not falling and I often wonder if I would survive stepping off a cliff's edge. I also wonder what my clothes whisper about me now that I've left the closet. I spent so long hiding amongst the skeletons that hung there that I'm not sure how to appear alive anymore. I get called a number of things, both good and bad, but my name is Taron. I'm clumsy. I don't laugh easily. I enjoy Korean music and strawberry yogurt. My hobbies include avoiding love, vandalizing people's thoughts with my anxiety, and coming up with masks, I mean metaphors. I have 1,154 followers on Twitter. I can't think of anything to say to them that actually matters. I knew that, right now, I am in both heaven and hell. I know that Google shows 2.8 million results how to tie a nose for hanging yourself. I know that I haven't become anything yet but i have an entire box of unfinished poems. This is only a draft copy of myself. I am not done writing just yet.

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Jul 20, 2020

Jul 20, 2020 at 4:16 PM UTC

I have...

I was born on December 19th at about 11:43 pm. I've never been able to tell if I'm being insulted or complimented. I can get away with blaming my indecisiveness on being me. I'm 5'5. I weigh who knows how much. I'm scared of my mom. I'm a real sucker for people with dimples and comfy leggings with giant pockets. I can't drive. I like iced coffee and writing poetry more than the oxygen I need to survive. I have strange fascinations with things like ratted, old Converse and the shape of my self-made scars. They remind me that everything is temporary, but the pain stays. I assume this is why I'm obsessed with drawing my scars as different things: stars, trees, a new poem. I watch the sunset from a hammock every night. Sometimes, I ask myself why so much of my time is invested in things that are only temporary and hope they come back. I'm afraid of heights but not falling and I often wonder if I would survive stepping off a cliff's edge. I also wonder what my clothes whisper about me now that I've left the closet. I spent so long hiding amongst the skeletons that hung there that I'm not sure how to appear alive anymore. I get called a number of things, both good and bad, but my name is Taron. I'm clumsy. I don't laugh easily. I enjoy Korean music and strawberry yogurt. My hobbies include avoiding love, vandalizing people's thoughts with my anxiety, and coming up with masks, I mean metaphors. I have 1,154 followers on Twitter. I can't think of anything to say to them that actually matters. I knew that, right now, I am in both heaven and hell. I know that Google shows 2.8 million results how to tie a nose for hanging yourself. I know that I haven't become anything yet but i have an entire box of unfinished poems. This is only a draft copy of myself. I am not done writing just yet.

28

I love love though it's hard to put that into loving myself I love the Netflix movies that everyone hates, Irish Breakfast tea, how potato chips taste so good I love the shade of blue called Prussian and singing in the shower and Paul Rudd I love "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel" and how ******* amazing everyone about it is: the plot, the cinematography, the music I want to write about love because I come from a generation where if I identity as aroace, that means I am a robot who can't feel anything I love sunsets and how hard it is not to fall in love with sunsets Other people should love too Fall in love with Mother Nature and her child the Earth instead Fall in love with the water that feels cool no matter what season Fall in love with the air that helps us all breathe and doesn't get mad if it gets left on read Fall in love with the moon because it will always be there every night to say "hello" and won't leave you on read Fall in love with the people learning how to love themselves and remind them that you'll be there to tell them each reason why your dimples appear when you think of them How do you not love, I often wonder I love that my friends know they can lean on my shoulder and just cry and I will be there to give them ice cream, hot tea, and pats on the back I love that my therapist knows just what I need in a bad mood or in one of our more sad conversations I love that the friends I made in college understands what it means to be afraid of me in your life and how hard it is to let someone touch you I love how awesome it is when you finally figure out what you do I love that my therapist agree that dysphoria is a scientific word, not a gender identity

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Jul 20, 2020

Jul 20, 2020 at 4:06 PM UTC

Things I Love

I love love though it's hard to put that into loving myself I love the Netflix movies that everyone hates, Irish Breakfast tea, how potato chips taste so good I love the shade of blue called Prussian and singing in the shower and Paul Rudd I love "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel" and how ******* amazing everyone about it is: the plot, the cinematography, the music I want to write about love because I come from a generation where if I identity as aroace, that means I am a robot who can't feel anything I love sunsets and how hard it is not to fall in love with sunsets Other people should love too Fall in love with Mother Nature and her child the Earth instead Fall in love with the water that feels cool no matter what season Fall in love with the air that helps us all breathe and doesn't get mad if it gets left on read Fall in love with the moon because it will always be there every night to say "hello" and won't leave you on read Fall in love with the people learning how to love themselves and remind them that you'll be there to tell them each reason why your dimples appear when you think of them How do you not love, I often wonder I love that my friends know they can lean on my shoulder and just cry and I will be there to give them ice cream, hot tea, and pats on the back I love that my therapist knows just what I need in a bad mood or in one of our more sad conversations I love that the friends I made in college understands what it means to be afraid of me in your life and how hard it is to let someone touch you I love how awesome it is when you finally figure out what you do I love that my therapist agree that dysphoria is a scientific word, not a gender identity

18

More than quiet trips to the library More than a cup of delicious iced coffee More than canceling Friday night plans More than Tumblr and Pinterest More than a new book that hasn’t been opened yet More than the old bookstore smell More than the coffee shop no one knows about so I’m the only one in it More than finishing my homework early More than writing a new page of my book

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Apr 30, 2020

Apr 30, 2020 at 1:07 PM UTC

I Love Being An Introvert...

More than quiet trips to the library More than a cup of delicious iced coffee More than canceling Friday night plans More than Tumblr and Pinterest More than a new book that hasn’t been opened yet More than the old bookstore smell More than the coffee shop no one knows about so I’m the only one in it More than finishing my homework early More than writing a new page of my book

9

I love you... More than quiet trips to the library More than a up of delicious iced coffee More than cancelling Friday night plans More than Tumblr and Pinterest More than a new book that hasn’t been opened yet More than the old bookstore smell More than the coffee shop no one knows about so I’m the only one in it More than finishing my homework early More than writing a new page of my book

0

Apr 21, 2020

Apr 21, 2020 at 1:51 PM UTC

I Love You More Than...

I love you... More than quiet trips to the library More than a up of delicious iced coffee More than cancelling Friday night plans More than Tumblr and Pinterest More than a new book that hasn’t been opened yet More than the old bookstore smell More than the coffee shop no one knows about so I’m the only one in it More than finishing my homework early More than writing a new page of my book

10

I’m 19 years old I’m ambidextrous I hate bell peppers in my food I still don’t have a driver’s license And for as long as I can remember I’ve had a fascination with hugs, Ginger Ale, and other people’s names I believe there are only two people in the world: Those who like spoken word And liars I’m not religious My faith in God died before I could even figure out who He was But in June 2019 I saw my nephew’s face for the first time and thanked whoever created humans that day I go to a pretty standard college Where thankfully my disabilities are taken seriously And I don’t cry so much anymore I know the best way to lawfully cheat to make your essays longer Hint: the font size But I don’t know the last names of any of the ladies who serve me food every day I’m the transgender son of a man who still doesn’t want to believe it and would rather I be non-binary The son of a woman who finds happiness in putting her children’s hopes and dreams down I’m only 5’5”…on a really good day But being built like a haiku in a poetry book is a lesson in finding ways to be seen as the tallest in the room I don’t know what it means to be a man And for a while, I thought dressing like a ******* could tell me I’m still learning to unlearn the self-hatred inside me Reminded every day that the ******* I have on my chest can be seen as male body parts if I had the humor to see it: ******* can be my misplaced ******** I know that we all carry an addiction to property in our blood I know that love cannot be owned in any way shape or form Somedays, I am still the fourteen-year-old on the ground with my wrists pinned, being told to “shut the **** up” every time I see someone who looks like Him I only watch two shows now but I know deep-down, iCarly and WOWP will always be the best **** Nickelodeon or Disney created I know that the best actual company is not Disney or Pixar but DREAMWORKS Because I like owning the fact that I am a male Yzma from The Emperor’s New Groove I like being the first person in my life to go to a human rights march and actually WANT to be there I was the tree that fell when no one else was looking and dared to make a sound I am the Thanksgiving buffet that depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder tried to take apart piece by piece I am living proof that those ************* didn’t know what they were getting themselves into I am both survivor and boy Every night, the sky opens its mouth and swallows the sun in a single gulp just to make room for the room What a terrifying but amazing way to see our lives To be so full of so much light but always hungry for more

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Mar 2, 2020

Mar 2, 2020 at 6:44 PM UTC

Let's See If You Want To Be My Friend

I’m 19 years old I’m ambidextrous I hate bell peppers in my food I still don’t have a driver’s license And for as long as I can remember I’ve had a fascination with hugs, Ginger Ale, and other people’s names I believe there are only two people in the world: Those who like spoken word And liars I’m not religious My faith in God died before I could even figure out who He was But in June 2019 I saw my nephew’s face for the first time and thanked whoever created humans that day I go to a pretty standard college Where thankfully my disabilities are taken seriously And I don’t cry so much anymore I know the best way to lawfully cheat to make your essays longer Hint: the font size But I don’t know the last names of any of the ladies who serve me food every day I’m the transgender son of a man who still doesn’t want to believe it and would rather I be non-binary The son of a woman who finds happiness in putting her children’s hopes and dreams down I’m only 5’5”…on a really good day But being built like a haiku in a poetry book is a lesson in finding ways to be seen as the tallest in the room I don’t know what it means to be a man And for a while, I thought dressing like a ******* could tell me I’m still learning to unlearn the self-hatred inside me Reminded every day that the ******* I have on my chest can be seen as male body parts if I had the humor to see it: ******* can be my misplaced ******** I know that we all carry an addiction to property in our blood I know that love cannot be owned in any way shape or form Somedays, I am still the fourteen-year-old on the ground with my wrists pinned, being told to “shut the **** up” every time I see someone who looks like Him I only watch two shows now but I know deep-down, iCarly and WOWP will always be the best **** Nickelodeon or Disney created I know that the best actual company is not Disney or Pixar but DREAMWORKS Because I like owning the fact that I am a male Yzma from The Emperor’s New Groove I like being the first person in my life to go to a human rights march and actually WANT to be there I was the tree that fell when no one else was looking and dared to make a sound I am the Thanksgiving buffet that depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder tried to take apart piece by piece I am living proof that those ************* didn’t know what they were getting themselves into I am both survivor and boy Every night, the sky opens its mouth and swallows the sun in a single gulp just to make room for the room What a terrifying but amazing way to see our lives To be so full of so much light but always hungry for more

41