i don’t care if anyone likes me or not.
i don’t find myself caught up in the daily pleasures or indulgences that most of my peers boast about on social media.
although, my subconscious find ways to betray what my mind puts in play
this means that temptation is nothing until i’m caught
under a bridge
in the rain
trying to swim
my way out
of the storm
in my brain.
when my subconscious and conscious greet each other they say **** ME RIGHT?
today i yelled at my coworker for stacking the cups in an unorganized fashion.
**** ME RIGHT?
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC
i’ve come to believe that the definition of love is very broad and complex and is hard to describe.
although, i know what love is when i see it. eyes are said to be a reflection of the soul and when two lovers are matched with their counterpart their eyes are stable and confident.
an undying trust that is fueled by a desire to be complete.
sometimes i wonder;
do my eyes shake because the taste of love is something i have not acquired. for my testimony of in doubt passion screams for another who shares the same eyes. eyes that can see my vision of peace. eyes that direct hatred from the soul.
eyes that don’t judge nor falter.
eyes that know pain.
sometimes when i look into your eyes i see my reflection, my vision, my love.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 10:56 PM UTC
i smoke cigarettes to blacken my lungs so they can match my heart
cough up tar in my morning caffeine that excite the drugs that i impart
after i inhale green to forget that i’m alive
then i balance it with aderall so that my anxiety will thrive
im prepared for the fire because my house has been burned before
those glowing flames don’t seem to be so inviting anymore
like how drugs come with a fear of peaking
when i dip myself in acid then wonder if my brain is leaking
somehow i have fit my ambiguity with the thoughts i consider more real
death is inevitable but am i really living if i have emotions i cannot feel
although i know this is not a dream because the scars i’ve pick at don’t bleed as before
and the crow awaits me singing my death as so, nevermore nevermore
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 12:31 AM UTC
the wind was blowing from the southwest today. i was infuriated by mostly everything. my mind began feeling a distance from my body when i was a junior in high school. periods of instability.
estranged and unengaged
i distance myself from society so that i do not act on my sobriety. emotions come in variety. i **** on my anxiety
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
i’m all too interesting
although, unable to relate.
consider my personal state,
i’m not feeling too great.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 1:07 PM UTC
i’m better off gone.
so far that i cannot connect
so far that i cannot find
my mind.
for in fact,
i am a wanderer,
adrenaline addict
drug fiend.
do not get my wrong when i say i am better off gone.
away and untamable.
drifting across the oklahoma wind,
just as violent and atrocious.
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 7:51 PM UTC
dripping in gold,
eye contact is fatal.
i think i am unable to relate,
amongst my interpersonal debate.
relax time,
contain my glow.
it’s warm in december,
the weather changes
without snow.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 5:34 AM UTC
I want to be left alone
I don't want to feel alone
I want someone to hug me.
I hate being touched.
I want to tell someone.
People scare me.
I want to speak.
I can't open up.
I want comfort.
I push people away.
"I'll be fine."
"No you won't."
"But I will."
"What if something happens?"
"No, it'll be okay."
"But now you're doubting yourself."
"NO."
"Oh come on. I'm a friend."
"You cause so many problems for us."
"There's nothing you can do now."
"Don't do this."
"It's too late, I've won."
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 12:55 AM UTC
You can't love a poet.
Even though, you feel flattered by my witty one liners,
And my charming stanzas, you can't love a poet.
I will write the good and the bad and you won't like it.
You won't like my version of the fight
And you'll like my metaphors even less.
It will drive you crazy and you will tell your friends,
"She's obsessed".
I can't help the memories that stick like glue, imprinted on my brain
And I can't stop feeling the words exchanged 3 Sunday's ago that you forgot as soon as they left your mouth.
I will relive and reread until the end of my days and inevitably you will leave,
because you can't love a poet.
You can't love someone who will publish your intimacy and print your passion.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 12:44 AM UTC
I saw it in her eyes
She was going to leave
But she didn’t know it yet
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 12:42 AM UTC