Alone I lie awake,
sitting in an empty room.
Another long night.

I don't seek your permission...
To write about the what, why and how.
It could be a haiku or come in the shape of a cow.

I don't need your approval...
When I don't sound the least bit poetic...
In my mismatched metaphors or ill-rhymed acrostic.

I'm not asking for your blessing...
When I pen down and put up what I think...
Be it in cloying cliches or in tear drenched ink.

I don't crave for your understanding...
When my 10 word poems weren't filtered through your poetic lens,
Or if my contributions in collaborations lack in sense.

I don't hope for your likes...
If my content does not tickle your fancy,
Or if my words just rubs you silly.

I mean no disrespect...
But don't be too quick to click on the 'comment' button.
Private messaging has been put there for a reason.

I don't mean to cramp your style...*
You're entitled to your own opinions of course...
But if you've got nothing good to say, please save it and shove it up yours.

The wisdom is held tightly,
swaddled in opinion.
The trains of though race,
with a hot coal that burns.

Burns and pounds
and the weapon's locked away.
Writhing and screaming,
but a silence counts the seconds on the clock.

Clock's that move quickly,
but slowly runs the time.
The gunpowder finds the match:
Smithereens of impressions scattered on the floor.

So many people enter and leave your life!
Hundreds of thousands of people!
You have to keep the door open so they can come in!
But it also means you have to let them go!

My life story is the story of everyone I've ever met.
But I still couldn't figure out what it all meant.
The more I found out, the less I understood.

Why I'm Not Where You Are?
Because I missed you even when I was with you.
That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have,
and I surround myself with things that are missing.

I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about you.

I tried the key in all the doors.
At the end of my search I wanted to be able to say:
I don't know how I could have tried harder.
All I could do was put my hand on the doorknob
maybe her hand was on the doorknob on the other side

Just because you're an atheist
that doesn't mean you wouldn't love
for things to have reasons for why they are.

I remember when feathers filled the small room.
Our laughter kept the feathers in the air.
I thought about birds.
Could they fly is there wasn't someone, somewhere, laughing?

I remember how she laughed enough to migrate an entire flock of birds.
That was how she said yes.
We talked about nothing in particular,
but it felt like we were talking about the most important things.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining
under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.
I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.
Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time.
My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.

My heart pounds in my ears
My breathing wracks my body
I can't think
I can't stop the
Panic attacks that attack me

Stupidest reasons
Lead to me crying
Lead to me screaming
Lead to me dying and
Nightmarish dreaming
Waking up sweating
Yet freezing cold
My heart squeezing in fear.

Always afraid
Always wary
Always watching out for
The panic attacks that attack me.

Hidden somewhere
A dark corner somewhere
My head in my hands
And a scream in my throat
Silent. No one can hear
No one can know
Quiet despair.

I can't breath
Though I'm trying
I can't scream
Though I'm trying
I can't quite get my nails through my skin
Though I'm trying.
Even seven feet below in the dark
In this state I can't
Reach my goal of ending my life.

My lips can't move as fast as my head
And my head can't describe what I'm feeling
My feelings are leaving me reeling
So confused and hopeless
Close to help but can't reach it
My lips can't wrap around the words I need.
Can't wrap around a simple "Help Me"

So I lay in my room
Hidden somewhere dark
And I let the tears
Leave their marks
On my pillows
On my sheets
On my face.
And I sob silently as the
Words I don't wan't to hear
And lies lead me away.
Silent screams and zero breath reaching
My shaking body and my
Panic attacks just attack me again.

I’m a functionally depressed person.
I’ve self-diagnosed myself as this
Because severe depression makes
Me feel like I should be lying
Around my house all day and
Although I’d rather wrap myself
In the blankets of my bed,
I push myself out into the day.
Dressed in an outfit that’s not
Sweatpants and a t-shirt, but
Instead, jeans and a sweater.
Long sleeves to cover the cuts
On my arm, or many bracelets
With no colors that match my
Outfit but they cover my
Self-inflicted wounds from
The night before.
I fake a smile at people
That I pass by during the day
And I hope that they can’t
See through my eyes and into
My head. I hope they can’t read
The suicidal thoughts swimming
Around, filling the lack of serotonin
That I’m missing from my brain.
Their eyes feel like lasers shooting
Into my brain like bullets that I dream
Of releasing from the chamber
To settle in my head.
I’m a functionally depressed person
Because I function in society
Without anyone knowing that
Inside, I’m already dead.