Remember, remember the 5th of November, and remember the point of the plot.

That blind obedience and fear of others is what spoiled the ***.

Life, four letters that mean everything.
Clearly, without life who would write?
Who would see? And clearly nothing would be.
This world would be empty, and boring.
It would be without color.
Does color exist if no one is there to see it?
There would be no action nor compassion.
Everything would be still and blatantly lifeless.
The bird would not chase the worm,
Nor would the caterpillar rest it's head upon the soft flower.
There would be no countries, no math, no science or sizes.
France the size of Texas, Jacksonville and Paris,
All would be nothingness, nameless, and void.
No fetuses to grow in to babies,
Naked without knowledge.
No balloons to fly at the end of the parade,
Let go by young Marry, with her father John.
No! Without life there would be nothing.
Nothing to evolve from nor too,
Fish to monkeys to me and you.
Four letter word, that means literally all of the above.

Thing's that make me uncomfortable:

That feeling when you get mad at me,
because I didn't do the thing, you didn't ask me to do, cause I can't read minds; I'm not your parent.
That tone in your voice when you go off about how unfair the world is, triggered by the slightest setback.
The feeling when I sacrifice all that I am for the sake of your mood and happiness, in vain.
That sound of the exacerbated sigh when I ask you to run an errand, as if I am not also tired.
The pressure of carrying us both on broken legs.
The pit in my chest when I ask your opinion and you say "I don't care," but you actually do care, because whatever choice I make is laced in ridicule.
When you say you're doing something for me but you're just trying to make yourself feel better about doing it for yourself.
When you use my disorder as a justification or excuse, but when I actually need your help you seem burdened and annoyed.
That "okay then" moment when I give you everything you ask for and you take it as if you never wanted it.

It's not that music defines me,
It just helps me explain to myself how I feel.

I will not carry
any unnecessary weight,
because the world is heavy enough.

I will not compare myself to others,
and feel guilty about my shortcomings
because each experience is unique.

I will not let failure consume me
with guilt, but I will carry the anxiety
because I do want to be better.

I will no longer torture myself
because I feel I'm supposed too.

I will allow myself to experience forgiveness from myself.

Sometimes when I'm waiting in public
I stare at the tv screens blaring sports.
I don't watch the game,
I zone out.
Into the abyss.
Until I don't have to be in public anymore.
I don't like sports.
Watching the spectacle makes me seem normal amongst the herd.

"Your discomfort is better than mine"
They speak without words.

Slowly roasting from the inside out
is a hard thing to hide;
smiling with lava in your chest.
Persist, persevere, push onward;
put a pin in it.

Pin the feelings that are inconvenient.
Note and move past the ignorance and injustice, impulsivity and disrespect.

"Shut up and melt"

Ever acclimating to reality.
Subtle differences between then and now.
Hopelessness fades into almost happy.
Depressed all the same but getting better.
Minor inconveniences explode into melodrama.
Relearning coping mechanisms like burning down sulphur.
Olympian effort for maintaining expectations.
Progress yet still nervous.
Like standing on a sandstone cliff on the edge of the Grand Canyon.
No difficulty fathoming how far I could fall.
Challenge is trusting that I won't blindly jump into the river.

Never take for granted
The energy it takes
To subdue the knee **** reaction of
"Go **** yourself"

Hello all!

I am in the process of creating my own blog/ poetry website. I will still be posting here for a while as I continue development on the site. But feel free to come check it out in it's most basic form!

Updates to come in the coming weeks.

https://spacepuppybarks.com/


Thanks all.
-Alaina

My favorite time of the day lately
Is when everyone else in the house is sleeping.
This is my alone time.
Laying in my cocoon of warm blankets
I take in the silence
My mantra ensues

This is my time
And no one can take it from me.

I get lost in daydreams that fade into real dreams.
And as I hit snooze on my alarm the mantra continues

These next 10 minutes are mine and mine alone.
I am safe in my cocoon and I am safe in this room.
Hold on to this feeling of calm.
The day will pass at times constant speed.
No one can change that no matter how it feels.
This is my time
No one can take it from me.

Mouth over mind;
I could have said that better.
I’m sick and I don’t know how to be helped.
I am lonely in a crowded room.
Grasping for something that
simply isn’t there.
The silence is laced with disrespect,
and the disregard leaches my hope.
Articulation like strangulation,
each sentence a new meal
shoved down my throat.
Perhaps that’s where my appetite fled,
full of past statements
out of context.
I need a break that’s not from a bat.
I need compassion that isn’t laced with guilt.
Above all else I need honesty.
Without that all I have is chaos.
I’d ask you to keep me in your mind,
among all the impulsive desires
to self-indulge.

Green, yellow, red,
The color of me and my fellows.
When the sun's heat touches my friends,
They create life, thus I began.
I gown to serve my family,
To keep the tree alive.
I grow to aid the environment,
I make the animals thrive.
Ever since I opened my stigma
I have seen this world of truths.
I watch the animals fight and blossom.
I also understand I must die.
But I will never die in vain.
I am nourishment. I am the beginning.
I start new life, or sustain it.
Natures circle, where I fit.

The relief of sheet and blanket, nestled between hands and heart.

Floods my being with irrational safety and solace.

I never want to leave.

I seek out the riptide
to carry me to oblivion,
assuming I can breathe underwater.

Joints simply electric.
Aware of every muscle.
Feel heavier today,
Did I wake up on Jupiter?
No, just barometric pressure.
Each step a chore;
Try not to let it show.
My mind compensating,
Trying to ignore what the brain perceives.
By then end of the day I am wasteland.
Existence becomes intolerable.
It's times like these I forget,
That my minds on constant auto pilot.
"It's not pain it's pressure"
"It's all a misfire"
"This isn't real."
Without a rested mind,
I melt, I burn, I'm plagued by electric waves.
Harshly remained of what I daily ignore.
Some days I can't do it,
Today is one.

Picture yourself:
confident threads,
in a mix fabric shirt.
You're in a relationship,
and it's full of love.
Till one day,
it's skewed.
The love is there by title,
but the actions have fled.
Hands cupping a Samsung,
rather than your hand.
Their mind fixed to any and everything,
but a conversation with you.
Spend the whole day together,
with but a few, short replies.
Keep telling yourself,
it will improve.
In the blue light haze,
sitting right next to the love of your life,
feeling lonelier than ever.
Unable to express it,
for fear of retaliation.
So you sit there,
noting the confidence count
on the clothes you're wearing
isn't high enough for this.
So you stay silent,
wondering what's so captivating,
in the blue light.

You know that feeling,
of not wanting to go home?
Because you know there is some trigger there, just waiting behind the door.
Or somewhere in the hall closet,
or kitchen cupboard.
When the wrong tone rolls off the tongue and you end up eating crow for dinner, in total silence.
The hollowness grows like a **** in your chest.
Ceaselessly creating shelters just to watch them burn.
Eggshells crack like atom bombs,
and this emptiness grows heavy with each passing step.
When your biggest wish is to come home to smiling faces.

I love you,
despite the many failures
The true and perceived.
I want to hear about it all
be here through it all.
I wish you'd respond.
I hope you know you're worth more than you're giving yourself.
This doesn't have to be the final chapter.

Caught up in mirrors,
not caring for what I see.
The reflection creeps
and crawls deep inside of me.

Ignition of the core, or soul,
or whatever - doesn't matter.
As long as I can manifest
A perfect reflection of everything you'd like to see.

At times, it sounds like crowds are cheering, when I'm sitting in a silent room.

With my lower jaw working on a merger with my upper. I take a deep breath and sigh.

Until I hear the silence.

Some chemical influences are necessary.
Experimentation is mandatory.

Skim the syllabus and you will see,
MDMA is chapter three.
Hemp is the strongest ****,
At least that's what I learned in Botany.

Biology came as quite a shock,
When the plants pulled out their *****.
English came as such a breeze,
The Diazepam brought poetry bees.

They pollinated the dopamine receptor,
Which greatly impressed my psychology professor.  
When the zombies rose for dead weeks droll,
Adderall and Vyvanse kept us cool.

There's always a place in the Union Bathroom stall
To do a dome some Coke before study hall.
Of all the girls in my dorm floor
Roxy and Molly were just next door.

Art history wasn't the most entertaining,
Until Absinth was my painting water.
Finals were such a stress, so I'll admit
We laced our gin shots with Xanex.  

College was an experience, I'll admit,
But Chemistry got me on the DEAn'S list.

Sometimes the path forward is obvious
But is hard to swallow
So we choose to choke on ignorance
Until one day we remind ourselves we know the right path
All we must do is choose to walk forward.

Rapidly approaching dusk, the sunbeams are bouncing across car roofs, creating a river of deep red.
Below there's broken glass strewn across the always shining like star light bending in the atmosphere.
I wonder what the glass thinks of being shattered by drunk nomad who felt the desire to release the bottle at high velocity?
Does it care that it's avoided by all the passers by?
Does it feel free having escaped the vessel and sprawl across the concrete?
Perhaps I need to be shattered to break free?
Trapped in mental paradox I struggle to find resolution.
Wading in ambiguity without direction, exhaustion settles into routine.
Waiting to see the fruits of my investment in self.

Never feel like there is not
consistency in your life.
There will always be people
that disappoint you.
Rolling over you like
a gravel road.
They will be that wheel crushing you
into the stones.

I feel as though
I could sink below this Cobblestone
and lay forever among these rocks.
That have been pounded
so hard by the tide
they were brave enough to become smooth.

Adapting to roll along blissfull waters,
until imprisoned here
among the urban shore.

I envy these soft stones.
Cemented in their purpose.
I relate to the chips on the rocks,
unable to bare the new pressures
of high heels and loafers.

I too feel imprisoned in this pressure,
I too feel the cracks on my surface forming.

My favorite meal (apparently)
Is eating crow
****** every day
Devoured like ice cream
On a hot day
I'm a hot mess
Words equate land mines
Going off without warning
Disguised as words
Play me a fool
I thought I was helpful
But alas
Set the gasoline on fire
Let it light the way
Use me as a bridge
And light me aflame
And they say
You should talk more
What do I get from that
Besides explosions
And feathers in my teeth
But with lips sewn shut
I won't be eating anything
So crow is better than nothing
Only because starvation
Takes 45 days
I lack the patience

So I just did some math.
This week,
according to the numbers,
I've consumed on average
375 calories a day.
Call it 500.
I have no appetite;
I'm stressed;
It's hot;
I'm ill.
This relapse is
not like the ones I know.
It's so subconscious
I'm drowning
trying to fix it.
I tremble as I write this.
I don't know how I get through the day.
But I do know,
there is a mountain
of responsibilities
that I must manage
regardless.
I can't just over medicate
and play games
when I'm stressed.
I can't rest when I'm sick.
I must bare it all,
for both of us.
I'm being crushed
by this mountain.

I married a hurricane, and still get surprised when it rains.

I keep pen to paper
As if these words will heal me

I keep lips together
As if no words will save me.

On your manic days,
when I can't get eye contact from you,
when your phone is your best friend,
and cleaning up your mess,
is the only thing on your mind.
I keep hearing your words
"I'm not a cuddling person,
you should be grateful
for what affection
you get from me."
You say you didn't mean it.
Yet I'm a ghost in my own home.
Unable to get my husbands touch.
I question my existence,
my purpose,
and why I sacrifice so much,
only to be scarified.

A stark realization.
I'm, for lack of a better word, obsessed with South Park.
Not like collectables, clothing, or other cluttered stuff.
But like ingrained into my personality, seriously, like a face hugger planting seeds in my core. Hatching into satirical, political, ridiculous obsession
Half my inside jokes.
The majority of my random noises.
Sewn within my vocabulary.
Constantly murmuring on the TV like old friends at dinner.
In my achievement list on Steam.
On my blu-ray shelf.
Gently nudging me with phone notifications to collect my free pack.
Definitely used in comparisons at work.

Equally tearing down the walls of anyone and everyone.
I eat it up.

I am running in sand.

I am drying off in the river.

I am free in chains.

I am lost surrounded by directions.

Missed the deadline
To submit poems
To one of my favorite books...

Lost my drive for poems
Because I am caught in the gears
Grinding against medal

I have a lot to say
Eh... I'm to worried to say it
To tired to push through articulation.

The poems come like fleeting thoughts
With no time to focus on them
Nor jot them down in the moment.

Just small snippits for me
I suppose
Jumbled attempts at explaination.

Tremors from the pressure
tremble the relics
of years past
Years reflected now
via passionate words
of miscommunication.
No matter how articulated
the opposite is spewed
like blood on the walls.
Best intentions die
among solid efforts.

Finding It's best to not
say anything at all.

I like to frolic in fields
Laced with landmines.

I like to take bubble baths
With curling irons, plugged in.  

I like to walk alleys
Naked at night.

I like to fast.
Indefinitely.

I like look in the mirror
And see someone else.

I like to think about these things
As if they were true.

Skills we don't teach:
How to articulate
disappointment
to someone you love,
at their weakest state.
In an empowering way;
positively.
Negating the overwhelming
negativity
you feel inside.

I stumbled upon your linkedin yesterday,
and saw you frozen in time.
Read through an articulate and proud bio, and wished that that was still you embodied.  
Before all the pieces crumbled apart.
I didn't realize that it would haunt me.
What a feeling it is, to know you're alive, while mourning as if you're gone.
I would give you all my hope if it had a chance of saving you.

What a lonely place it is when the grace of a pause is not given.

Between patients and rationality- all the filters that each data point wiggles through. To calculate how to disarm the bomb, without sacrificing myself.

What a waste, all this energy spent to go unrealized, and not truly appreciated.
A thousand apologies nor gratitude wishes can equate to the power a single breath, a pause, can make.

Were I a Starfleet Captain I would be unfit for duty, but this is no Federation of Planets.
This is a moment in time and barely anything at all, yet it is everything.
Carrying a weight on my back of a small crew, I lack the mental fortitude to take care of their carrier.
The cacophonous cocktail stirring within my ribs is barely tolerable.
In fact, It is not tolerable.
Adorned in a gown of ripped tissues,
the waves come like tsunamis.
Somehow throughout my turmoil I have to remain focused and continue forward.
Every step is heavier than the last and I often am unsure how I will see the sun set.
If I'll make it there alive or as some hollow shell with a faux optimism.

Peak depression:
Asking your spouse
"Do you wanna eat dinner?"
Rather than
"What do you want for dinner?"

In algebra there is a method for factoring polynomials
called "guess and check."
You figure out the factors A and C  
and mix and match them until you find something equal to the original problem.
It's a good analogy for this feeling, these moments, where a direct answer escapes me, or you.
So I am left with no other method,
besides "guess and check."
Sometimes the first few guesses find the answers, sometimes you have to try it twenty different ways.

I am exhausted by this constant guess,
of what A and C equal.
An onerous search for the variables to solve the equation of making you happy.

Ever had someone tell you something
That swept the rug out beneath your feet?
Falling so slow it takes hours to hit the ground.
But you find it.
Cold and merciless.

I'm on the floor
Can't find my feet.
But I will.

"You need to chill."
"Why don't you just relax?"
"Why are you so sensitive?"
"Why are you depressed?"
"What are you doing about your depression?"
"Why don't you just eat something?"
"Are you even trying to get better?"
"You're not trying"
"Why don't you try harder?"
"You should workout more"
"Why don't you grow your hair out?"
"If you lost more weight you'd be really ****"
"You need to learn how to entertain yourself"
"Everyone has problems"
"Would you just stop talking"
"You make everything about yourself"
"You're just confused"
"We've plateaued"
"My mom thinks you hate her"
"You don't listen to feedback"
"You make jab comments"
"You take everything as a jab comment"
"If you can't see I'm trying to help you then, sorry"
"I don't have the mental fortitude to deal with you"
"You're not supportive enough of others"
"I give up"
"You complain to much"
"You just sit around and mope all the time"
"You're always on your phone"
"You bring up the past to much"
"You don't do enough around the house"
"You should be grateful for what affection you get"
"Why are you anxious?"
"You make me crazy"
"I don't care"
"You're too needy"
"You need to just get over it"
"I give up, there's no talking to you"
"I can't say anything to you without you getting upset"
"Just stop crying"
"You need to be nicer"
"You're impeding my progress"

Look forward to seeing you there!
Aiming for a post every weekday.

Though every joy that could be enhanced, and every misery that could be diluted.
Thoughts of escape dance like ballerinas in my mind.
Fluid in motion and undeniably enticing

I swoon for them - hypnotized.

They are really sirens seducing me, and pulling me toward oblivion.

I'm a moth to the flame.

Seeking a comfort zone that was never comfortable to begin with.
To inflict a suffering I do not deserve, yet so desperately long for at times.

"What's funny is" is a ****** statement to be on the receiving end of, it nearly ever ends well.

What's funny is... Often times, most of the time, it's not funny at all. Curious, that we take humorous language and make it into lighter fluid to burn bridges.

What's funny is... The fire is usually a case of arson brought about by projection of in-the-moment feelings, that are fleeting. *******, that we allow ourselves to make them permanent; just mindless masochistic beasts wallowing in the ashes.
What's funny is... The echo chambers we've created for ourselves are actually prisons. Ironic, that we make up walls made out of bricks of unreachable goals, and feel disappointment when we don't achieve them.

What's funny is... Is that the more I interact with people the more I understand why we let ourselves indulge, and indulge, and indulge, to numb the monotony for just one ******* second. Nerve wracking, that every person is just a liability I cannot trust to not become the shackles attaching the weights that drown me.

What's funny is... As hard as I try to remain invisible, I'm forever tracked by a spotlight that blinds me. Insane, to think for one second we are anything but dirt on the ground; let me be dirt.

What's funny is... The numbness, and the pain, are like logs on the fire. Enduring, daily, the pokes and prods to keep the embers going when all they wanna do is die.

What's funny is... I like to dance in the flames but hate being on fire. Truthfully, I aim for embers.

The amount of messages
I compose and then delete
would almost make you wonder
if I was just talking to myself.

Overwhelmed is a term tossed around to the point of underwelming.
I am a depressed person in a glass cage, with no way to hide my fear.
Like a million little cuts across my body, and not a **** one distracts me from myself.
I feel like I'm pounding on the glass screaming, "I wish you would just be happy!"

I'm a depressed person wanting telling a depressed person the worst things to say to depressed people.
The irony is a silent needle that sews the lips shut.
Pretend you're alseep while pretending to be alive.
I sacrifice myself for others worthy of the life.
Exhausting to carry their burdens, and the tears they can't actually cry.
Faces rest in palms as if hands are any sort of shelter.
Inability to let things go makes me feel like I have to rip them apart.
Living like this makes you ill beyond belief.
All I want is a good night's sleep.

Big city.
Crowded train.
Observe the vast graveyard,
on the commute.
All those who came before.
Some days it induces fear.
The great unknown.
The hard stop.
Some days it spurrs a sigh.
A releiving exhale.
All things end.
Reminder of the moment.
A promise to end all suffering.
Assuming I'm patient enough,
to let it consume me naturally.
Reminder not to rush to the finale.
It is inevitable, after all.