Seeking to thrive
despite status quo forces
pulling me to center.
I keep aiming for stars.

Don't feel like a cog.


Don't feel like a bird either.

Dishonorable, repugnant, grotesque.
Words highlighted, bright,
In correlation with your actions.

Gristle filled morality.
Chewing on the facts;
Unable to digest.

Audacity to ask
For cruel silence.
Allegiance forcibly chosen.

Claws against ribcage
Something's trying to escape
You put in chains.

Thoughts off the edge
Falling in circles
Crashing on pikes.

Hands clinched tight
On brittle strands
Of ***** blonde hair. snap

A cowards lies
Tattooed on my bones
"Approved eyes only."

Can't breathe
Atmosphere is toxic
Gassed by friendly fire.

Status quo upheld
Smile, pretty white teeth.
Ready to rip out.

Aim to be the person
you dreamed you'd be as a child
in spite of the world crushing your dreams.

These people act like I sit on my phone, protesting food like Ghandi, and absorb depression through the silicone.

Our relationship is dead,
as a door nail,
six feet under with settled dirt.
Do not think for a second you deserve forgiveness.
Do not think for one minute I owe you anything.

I am an actor on a stage the moment you see me smile your way.
I'll see you on the holidays,
an exclusive relationship of putting up with you.
Like wet socks or taxes.
I'll gladly watch your life blossom or burn from a cozy 850 miles away.

We're not cool and we wont be until [insert actions here].
That's just the thing,
I don't know how you fix this.
I do know I couldn't care less if ya did.
I'd hate you if I thought you were worth the energy, but your not worth a calorie, a thought, and least of all a fourth, fifth, sixth chance.

You're dead to me.
I'll pour one out for you,
If I ever consider you worth the waste.

I will see the day victorious
But the day is never done.
Regardless of their numbers
No mighty sedge will-ever I run.
Never would I waste my time
Pity none the lesser
I will center my emotions
Let the anger manifester
Until it radiates from my skin
Like the fire from suns
Many moons of restless rouges
Informalities and salacious puns.

In an instant
My words overflowed
From their mouth
Taken out of context
Without conscious consideration
Without control of emotion

Perspectives are locked in
And I am the root source
Of all of this tension
Simply because I was seeking release
Of tension - ironic

In an instant
The door was closed
And I, locked inside
I can't ignore this
I can't change it
So I am left with rehashes
And fake smiles.

I am fake smiles personified
In a hollow existence
With goal posts, always moving
I am in a head spin
Trying to figure out
Where the **** to aim

I'll never stand between you and your family,
but I will point out when they use you.
My relationship with members will differ from yours.
There are somethings I'm not sure I'll ever forgive.
Simply put, we are different people,
marching through this life together.
You have to understand
you may be able to move on,
and I may not be able to.
I have a great fake smile,
but I am not going to lie.
That person is dead to me,
that's not something I joke about.
I am done with them,
even if you're not.
I hope you understand.

Plagiarism of worthless ideals,
that you so ignorantly hold high.
Shaking in amazement,
how can you call your self alive?

Totalitarian, lethargic lifestyle.
Ignominious displays of disaffection.
Constant contradictions;
out of your mind.

Caught up in the clouds,
cognition of mania and level debauched.
Up to high to realize, you're an “open mind” with locked doors.
Maslow, Skinner, and Darwin alike, turn in their graves,
over your lack of evolution.

In the mist of night
I sat under computers light
Watching moving pictures
Of ******* delight.
With motions so loveless
Even my father would be amazed
At how empty and soulless
There facile expressions became.
How pathetic am I
Not to get off to such a sight
Am I broken on the outside
Or has the inside ****** me dry?
The continuous coitus
Has me wrapped in memories,
That remind me how miserably inadequate
My past lovers have been to me.
I've never got the good side
Of cunnillingus you see
Just been known as the first three letters aided with a "t."
I am distant and disconsolate with life
Relationships seem to end
Once me and males meet in sight.
My never ending lust for liaison
Has left me with no earth to stand upon.

Curious, the time we waste
being upset over perceived wasted time.
Regardless of the accuracy.
The ever repeating self-fulfilling prophecy
rages on expecting constant perfection.

Everyday is like a hurricane
without NOAA.
High sustained winds
cut my emotions to shreds;
as words, like debris, crash into me.
I'm trying to smile,
but the rain floods my eyes
until the leaves burst.
The storm rages on
with the fury of
high temperatures.
I'm holding on to street lamps,
losing my footing,
while all I was trying to do
was sing in the rain.

Lately when I've been walking,
I find myself staring at the sidewalk.
Thinking "I should just lay down,"
as if the sidewalk is the perfect place
for a defeated nap.

Lately when I've been working
I find myself unable to concentrate.
Words move around on the screen
and my brain can't keep up with my eyes.
Reading only to instantly forget.

Lately when my phone rings
I panic a little.
Fearing whatever is on the other end
is something that isn't conducive
to peace.

Lately I have started to wonder
If I was mistaken to hide my sickness,
to hide my pain.
Because now I can't hide it,
and the perception of me becomes
a crying wolf.
Yet I've always felt this way,
just with lips sewn shut.

Lately when I've been eating
I am repulsed by food.
My throat rejects it;
unable to swallow.
No appetite,
neglecting the consequences;
the hallow weakness.

Lately I've felt like
I am slowly killing myself.
Adrenal gland pumping,
at all hours of the day;
heart grieving;
stomach on strike;
body screaming.

Lately I've been trying to get better
but I can't tell if it's working.

When I was younger
I didn't understand the phrase
"I wish I'd never been born."
I thought it synonymous with
"I want to die."
In many ways it is.
Yet the phrase is less saying
"I want to die," and more saying
"I wish my lack of existence
wouldn't cause you any pain."
It's saying,
"only a few I love keep me here."
It's saying,
"I'd give up all I've lived to not have to go on any longer.
But if not for you,
I would choose an early out."
It's as near sighted
as any suicidal logic.
But the depth is something,
I've identified with in these
later days.

I thought
by 27
cutting myself
would be off the table.
Rather I'm carving pictures
on the table,
wishing it would bleed.

Putting mascara on the eyelashes below your iris,
is like making a promise to yourself that you won't cry today.
Sometimes it's a promise you keep.
Other times your tears run black with broken promises.

I'm starting to think it's me.
Maybe I ask to much,
though, admittedly,
maybe's it's because
I don't know what I am asking for?
I am starting to think, it's me.
Maybe I am the problem.
Or maybe that's just the voice in my head,
like a vice,
crushing any minor thing,
like an atom,
until it splits with the force of a thousand suns.
Or maybe it's everything else,
me included.
Maybe I just say it's me,
because I am my biggest bully,
and easiest target.
I thought I was asking for simple things,
but nothing seems simple anymore.
I just want these ropes untied from my hands.
Trapped in my own mind like a hostage,
who doesn't care if they make it out.
There is no greener grass on the other side,
I just wish this grass wasn't wet.
Sticking to me like feathers and tar.
I'm starting to think that I am just coasting along,
waiting for someone to help me fix my boat for me, before it sinks.

Warmness comes across my skin.
A feeling I know so well,
It devours me.

Coldness creeps over my soul.
The darkness takes a hold.
Tolerance consumes me.

Words fall like sleet
They burn my flesh,
Weaken every inch of me.

Lies grow until they are vast,
Inescapable forrest of wickedness,
All created by me.

[Hashtag]MeToo
Here it goes again,
trending on Insta and Facebook.
Where real awareness stems.
Mind the sarcasm,
social media’s a powerful tool
not knockin’ that.
I wonder though,
does the mind of the follower
understand the context of the hash?
Do they get it should be a call to action?
Not necessarily at the keyboard.
More like on the couch with their children,
Giving the conversation of consent.  
Most people do not even understand it by definition .
The meaning of yes and no convoluted by scenario.  
Bias boils over like milk and water over full flame.
The posts bubble out and stick to the side of the pan,
quickly drying; leaving their mark.
Until the soap and warm water flows over them,
and the steam evaporates the confessions.
Until they are again whispers we all hear and know.
It’s whispers from the alley ways,
and from married couples bedroom doors.
The woman is the property,  
the man is the proprietor.  
We refuse to address the real problems,
the failures of our up-bringers.
We point fingers and slay names
yet the statistics provide the truth.  
One in four for females, one in sixteen for males.
We all have been violated, slandered, and forced to say
[Hashtag]MeToo
Not going to say I did not share it,
I know the touch of unwanted hands,
the invasive *******.
All for the sake of the insanity,  
in repeating a useless gesture.
The only difference is
My hashtag went to my Senator.

Eye lashes brase my brow with a flash of awareness.
Of gravity, of heart rate, with fading memories of mental images and sinking in reality.  
Argument insues among the self
"why do I have to get up?"
"I don't know the ******* answer, just get up."
It goes on repeat.
Get up, get up, get up.
Frozen in the warm sheets and safe feeling that just barely lets the pressure fade.
"Why can't I stay in the twilight of REM and awake where my body is light doesn't hurt and my mind has solace?"
"I don't know, just get up."
Get up, get up, get up.
This feeling has lost me GPA points
and this feeling has cost me jobs.
Place my hands on my chest and streach out my legs.
Rip away from the fetal position and complement myself relentlessly.
Get up, get up, get up.
"You're okay" I wisper as though the echo will ensure it's truth.  
Deep breathing to irratic breathing to controled breathing.
Rise, wash, repeat.
Get up, get up, GET UP.
Rip the sheets off like a bandaid and immediately stand.
Run to the warm shower.
Pretend it's rain and back to deep breathing.
Complement what a great job I'm doing, getting out of bed, not even crying.
How proud I should be I'm taking care of myself - by taking a shower.
A basic Target pattern, fortress of solitude.
Consumed in the hot artificial rain drops I find another fleeting moment of solace.
Deep breathing, "you're okay."
Let the water run over my shoulders until it turns cold.
Dry off in the shower, take advantage of the ignored greenhouse gas - bask in the humidity.
Look into my dark eyes in the mirror, and ask questions. And hope they are good that day.

I have always hated the way you look at me.
With such distance and disgust,
Among colorless eyes.
I am doomed to my fate
The old views I cherish.
I am a child of wind and rain, not DNA.
My scientific lust spliced with my bioluminecent heart.
Nothing more than bones and bruises; trying to hide.

We are children of a past we don’t agree with.
It is a past we comprehend, we’ve lost our empathy.
Forgotten our lust for cruelty.
See it true, those of the past would not pity you.
Not one soul, fore none alive today could know,
The horror of swords, dirt, disease and patriotism.

Being empathic is like having a noose around your neck.
Yet never knowing when someone will decide to drop the floor.
Leaving you hanging.

I hear a sound.
Near my bedroom window,
beyond the panes of glass.
A rumbling and humming;
an idle motorcycle, right on schedule.
Mixed in with the little fan,
it grows into the perfect white noise.
I drift away and think of a warmer place,
bright and expansive.
In my mind, I hear bagpipes playing.
It is some fierce melody,
unfamiliar, yet deeply known.
The meditation fades back to other surroundings.
Back to the dark blank room,
buzzing fan, and noise pollution.
Then I'm reminded, I don't care at all for bagpipes.

Faint whispers in the day and dark.
Smiles fade into clever camouflage as the truth builds walls miles high.
Mirror tells lies, and truths I can't stand to observe.
Body rejects sustinace; swipe left, try again tomorrow.
Mind glossed in walls that reverberate, ever growing louder.
Skin crawls like a million earthworms worms dreaming of becoming butterflies.
Decaying in plain site, hidden behind a thousand "okays" and "alrights."
Verbatim honesty escapes my tounge.
Soul ever inching toward the light.

I need to stand up,
but I am to heavy;
apathetic; hollow.
I wasn't expecting this,
I'm so sorry.
I failed you.
I can't distract myself from reality.
This is all my fault.
I should have treated you better,
I was just so tired; overworked; overburdened.
I brought you into my hurricane
only to be buried a child.
I'm so sorry I couldn't teach you,
to find a way to make you listen;
make you look up.
I loved you to death,
I'm sorry I was to jaded to give you what you needed.
I miss you so much,
I didn't expect this to be so heavy.
I keep seeing your joyous face,
and then the hole in the ground.
Child, I am so sorry.
You deserved better,
you deserved a long life,
you deserved open air.
I did the best I could,
but I can't make you look up,
I can't make their car stop,
I can't wake you up.
I failed you young one.
I'm so sorry.

I had a dream about you last night.
You were laying in my childhood backyard.
I tried to pick you up,
but you were broken.
My mind refusing this reality
made you wake up.
You couldn't walk straight,
but you were your lively self.
Suddenly we were inside,
in my current home.
You jumped onto the couch;
Made silly noises like you always did.
But they were haunting.
My mind made you live as you are
body still broken.
Because you're in the ground,
and I'm roaming the earth looking for you.
Only to see you in my dreams.
At least I got to hold you
One last time.

Today I am "okay."
"Okay" invokes no questions,
"Okay" raises no brow.

I bare the burden of your mistakes.
Forced into scandal
Reckless actions induced
Best efforts lost
In chemical seduction.

Your weaknesses become my wounds.
Lust swooned to torture
My mouth stitched shut
I'm plucking on the stitches.

This illness encompasses me.
A ghost of the mind, haunting my existence.
Even in the brightest moments it finds the instant out.
Laying in the deep, old fashioned tub, relaxing as the ghost whispers.
Of the romanticism of tubs like this and early exists.
In these moments I laugh to myself: "of course you'd think that."
Corruption of the spirit.
Errors of the mind.
I wish heights were just terrifying and not lethargic calls to actions.
Unprompted these thoughts corrode my soul like battery acid.

Blank screen staring...
Make it interesting.
Google it.
Remember it.
That rush;
The excitement;
The release.
That brief moment of peace.
I always did love the feeling,
But most of all
I love to watch.
The drops form like poetry,
They slip down to the pen.
Slinging words so fast
I can't think about it.
The razor refills sitting in the bathroom.
My heart pounding, I shouldn't think about it.
I can't,
I shouldn't!
Close my eyes and try to feel it,
a malicious fantasy.
Heart pounding still.
I can't,
I shouldn't!
But it's right there.
It's so easy.
It's so hard.
Old Addiction arise
like droplets congeal.
Google it.
Remember it.
Imagine it.
Breathing heavy.
It's so hard.
It's so easy.
It's right there.

Waking up 5 a.m.
Aching back.
Husband gets up
Makes sure your alright.
Sets up a pallet dubbed
"****** back set up supreme."
Rubs out the kinks,
From another exhausting week.
Talks about the shared woes,
And how hard things can be.
Mysterious figure-
Kids can be creepy!
Tuck in to our bed.
Lay on the sofa.
Continue talking demons,
Offer mutual support.
Dish out all the feelings,
We had to ignore at work.
May as well stay up now
Since the kid is sound asleep.
Turn on some video game...
Times all the same.
Sun up, Sun down.

Full freefall into bed.
Notice every lumpy detail;
every crumb not swept away.
Head pounds like a drumline.
Aches woven in every muscle fiber.
Hot and cold flashes rotating through time.
Dry sweat soaks my skin.
Seconds masquerading as hours.
Thoughts scratching the chords, choking to death.

Shell shocked
sleepwalking
through the day.

Tormented
by nothing less
than my own mind.

Mind's a hollow black room.
Cacophonous symphonies
echo off the walls.

I want to rip my hair out;
my skin off;
Dissolve entirely.

Once was balanced
now I hang on the pendulum.
Waiting to fall into graves once filled

Personal Devil spouting whispers directly into my consciousness.
Streamlined for exaggerated effect.
The internal constant critic of every action and thought.
Highlighting what could have been better in a way so far from constructive I'd need to update my passport to have a chance to see positivity.
Never harping on what was good, what was done exceptionally well.
Only dissatisfied with how it wasn't perfect.
The stark reminder that my toxic self is standing right behind me.

Hello there.
General Depression.

Corny Star Wars reference aside,
welcome back.
Gotta say,
didn't really want cha back,
but here you are...  Bags and all.
Jeeze, what year are those bags from anyway?
I feel like you should have let those go, awhile ago.
Okay, so you're not going away.
At least not anytime soon.
It's just, when you're here
it's hard to find topics of conversation.
The silence isn't comforting,
but it persists.
I feel like conversations flowed like rivers until you became the dam that stoped the flow.
Now the once prospering ecosystem, is sick and unbalanced.
That ecosystem I call my mind is crying out to the operators to open the gates; let the river flow.
But I sit on shores with waves in the sand that say 'movement once happened here.'
I feel the dust bowl coming
all the signs are here, I've seen this all before.
I have to plant trees now
before everything blows away.

I want to shake you;
toss you down the stairs,
slap your face till your eyes open.
Not to hurt you
just to break the spell,
of the pharmaceutical sleeping beauty.
She got ****** into falling in love
with Snow Whites wicked sisters.
Mind askew in egregious hypocrisy.
She's got the frog emerging into a Prince
but the slipper no longer fits.
Mind lost in jealousy and greed;
vanity and self-doubt.
Ate the apple that positioned her thoughts
into thinking zombification is the only answer to this painful life.
Lacking the courage
to face the telling mirror.
She wonders alone, lost.
Falling down the rabbit hole.
Desperately grasping little vials,
"Eat me"
to hide from the truth,
"Eat me"
forget about self-loathing.
If only the vials carried an ounce of courage
the girl could find the moral
of her privileged story.

Learn how to talk!
Type out a message
Erase it.
Chemically induced paranoia.
Marooned by burning bridges,
I fear starvation.

Just surviving life right now
minutes or hours at a time.
It's not pretty.
Poems don't lie.

Perhaps that's why
I can only gush feelings
in some rhyme or pentameter

Not really pentameter,
to much work and time.
This **** has no flow other than
how I think I'd speak it in my mind.

Can't call it slam.
It's just word *****
so I can read it over
and over and over.

Send it to a friend.
Narcissistic desire.
All positive reviews,
so it doesn't matter.

It's easier to remember the feeling this way. (I guess)
Jaded poems of a jaded mind.
My issues are simple
relapse, replay, rewind.

Chain smoking simply for the high,
Et Cetera, et cetera, along those same lines.
Got all this to live for
yet that **** still remains?

Are you ******* serious?
I thought I served my time!
Regressed back to a default state of mind.

I thought I was better than this,
control seemingly was mine.
Normally I'd meditate;
not in that house of horrors

I barely eat,
Not drinking water.
Nothing but making it worse.

Escape: all available options.
I joke about it.
Reminiscent of Lennon:
Help

Your words spin in circles
around topics that never change.
One place to the next,
everything stays the same.
Compress every minor inconvenence
until they shine like diamonds
in a pitch black sky.
Embed them in your skin.
Wear them like badges of honor,
even though they're scars.
Would have been better,
to just let the coal burn.

I grew up with God in the wind,
and didn't fit in with Christian friends.
They told me stories and begged me to repent.
Though doubtful, my anxiety sparked at the thought of sin.

I was once on a playdate and the mother told me.
She disowned her best friend when she confessed she was a lesbian.
She told me she could only take her back if she came to her senses.
It made me feel sad and sick, with little sympathy for the protagonist.

I was once told by a good friend that no one is bisexual, of course they're just confused.
I knew who I was but I didn't say anything in rebuttal.
I just nodded my head and took the bruise.

Once after jokingly seeing my boyfriend and another male friend hold hands, my mother told me "how dare those ******* disrespect you like that."
It was a moment that shattered glass and left scars.
I managed an apology after too much effort.

My stepfather once told me that gender fluidity was a confused phase, and a fad for attention.
Walls were put up and notes were taken.
Doors remained closed and silence  prevailed.

I am complicated.
I blend in to "normal"
I feel guilty at times and don't feel honest.

I undervalue, perhaps, the benefit of looping everyone in.
Or, perhaps, I'm just keeping the peace and heeding warning signals.

I can say for certain, it's not a fad nor phase.
I've always been who I am, I just had to grow up in order to phrase it.

If you think you're irreplaceable
You are sorely mistaken.
I can pay for a therapist
When I need someone to talk to.
I can pay for a masseuse
When my muscles scream.
You are nothing to me by blood,
You are among the family I chose.
And I can choose to separate from you.
I don't need you.
You need me.

Relapse
It's a word that keeps coming up.
Get it?! Keeps coming up?
It's something that makes us think of substances and addiction.
A narrow view of a massive crisis.
As it festers and grows, you ignore it.
It spins webs that sew into you until more fiber is relapse than progress.
Eventually leading you to the same place it always does.
A self fabricated wall with no ropes, ladders or shovels to aid in moving past the barrier.
Spanning to a wider view you'll find that relapse is a state of mind.
Toward the diet, the feeling, the mood, the bad habit, the obsession, the perspective or the substance.
Though it is a repeated journey attempting to best tbe barrier via the same path is a path to nowhere.
Be creative, be different, be confident, find the energy and want to change.
That is the path away from misery and repetition.

And in an instant
The realization swept me
The weight of all these years

All the lies
Like an avalanche
That I've told myself

It's okay
It's fine
I'm okay

How buried am I
How forgetful
As if I haven't done this before  

It's harder this time
I am so lost
In myself

I want to craft something unique and timeless.
Unfortunately the words do not present themselves organically.
So I look to my wandering thoughts for a sense of purpose;
to discover a catalyst and explode in a burst of creativity.

With fizzles echoing from the hollowness within me;
the empty space where hobbies and passions live.
Sought time and again, to give meaning and purpose to a life as a cog in society's machine.
Perhaps I am wasting the very time I am trying to enrich seeking a dream.

When it comes to finite resources, our concept of time is fickle and dubious.
As it often will, perception steps to the top of the hierarchy of attention.
Time management is a killer sound byte, though an illusive skill, and not often thought of outside of the office.  
Grasping at the moment I cannot help but find myself wondering through the fog of the future.

I fear sitting back when I am older and looking upon a life not lived.
That the time needed to discover what I want will slip through my fingers, and the void will remain indefinitely.
Dreams are hard to fathom in a shroud of controlling darkness beyond your control.
The ever looming need to survive suffocates every orifice without mercy.

The rock and hard place of playing victim and being one by consequence of existing may as well go by “my humble abode.”
Pressure mounts with each tick, and tok - still I throw words at the page.
Waiting for the catharsis to cast itself out of my chest, violently;
for the words to fall into place like sand counting seconds encased in glass.

They are somewhat like a smudge of coal dust
on a white wedding gown

He craves a feeling he cannot grasp
And so he spirals in the darkness
Into the womb of existence
Just wanting to prove himself
To declare "I'm worthy of life, see me!"
As he feels invisible, despite his best efforts
He is more a ghost than a man,
Even so, he lacks spirit.

She wants to be happy
A feeling she cannot define
Gnashing teeth; molded smile
To blend into the crowd
She is an actress forever in the spotlight
Every street, train car, and public sphere
She assimilates to the point of amnesia  
She longs for something easier;
Some kind of relief she can't articulate nor manifest.
Imprisoned by illness of mind, of body -
Her façade shifts to reality as her reflection grows unfamiliar
She tries so hard to differentiate authentic self from the other
But the lies all blend together, leaving her dizzy

Ground in the blinder of life
Their hearts poured through a strainer
She grasps the strings
He weaves them into ropes that hold them together.
Be it kindness or cruelty, the act carries the stench of survival

They are one, and
They are magnets facing
Opposite direction
Jaded jigsaw pieces forced together.
Then called a pretty picture.
They crave singularity
Balance of both body and mind.
A work in progress, they ride the wave
Hoping to wash ashore more whole than before.

One of the most painful things
I have had to endure (so far)
Was watching you slip away.

There is so much to unpack.
So many threads that came together,
Becoming the quilt that is you now.

But patches were removed,
Replaced,
Repurposed.

The reflection remains unchanged.
Nothing else follows.
Nothing else remains.

I see old pictures of us.
A you with different eyes.
If only I could pull you from those images.

I miss who you were.
They are forever gone.
Yet we both remain.

I am somewhat of a ticking time bomb.
I can feel the internal pressure increasing daily.
Reminding me time and energy are finite,
and that bitterness lingers like a bad smell.

Having little practice managing anger
it slips away from me like sand through my fingers.
Sand gets everywhere, leaving nasty texture only I can sense.
The dominos are falling; an unstoppable force.

The fire has been lit in me to discover authenticity.
Inherently, growing aware of every violation against my core values.
The sand allowed for lines to be drawn,
and I am not crossing them; an immovable object.

Static, stuck, still, yet not stable or sustainable.
Understanding that life comes with sacrifices,
I will no longer give away so easily.
Assimilation is removed from my vocabulary.

You do not
****** me,
high as hell,
give me a bunk apology,
and six months later
turn around and change the facts.
Cause they're ******* facts!
I was there,
with your unwelcomed touch.
He walked in to my rescue,
while you dry ******
fantasies
on my couch. (burn it)

You
are
dead
to
me.

Screaming internally; sitting in silence.
Make these feelings wash away without a word spoken.

Articulating perceptions while throwing water on burning oil.
Flames and rainbows blend until the fuel is exhuasted.

I am exhausted.

I am ready to fly off the rails.
I am prepared for the fallout.
I am filled with rage.
I am awaiting the toxicity.
I am craving the release.
I am unable to let go.

So I'll stay here.
In the repetition of misery.

I am not.

Thinking... "I should say I'm sorry"
Then saying nothing.
Because I'm not sorry.

Girl power.