no beginning
we all forget
to send
a forward
or regret
not saying
I apologize
like lemons or
lemmings we follow
to the cliff bitter
better yet we fall off
rather than
say
I am sorry,

If only you knew the damage caused
a few small words said and forgotten
days and hours of painful analysing
awake late at night, cold sweat haze
reliving, re-enacting, in my mind
caught in a time trap, held on repeat
left on my own, locked in this hurt
I hear my voice repeat as I cry
eternally asking the question, why?

The thing is:
You **** me off.
I am literally so done with your sass.
Your stares that cut through me.
The annoying way you ignore me to get me to "chase after" you.
What the hell do you think you're doing?
Im not a toy, **** it.
Either love me or don't.
Fact of the matter is, I will ALWAYS love you.
I have tried not to. I can't win.
So either leave me alone,
Or hold me while I cry.

Throw me a line

I don't care if it rhymes

As long as it tickles
my posterior cingulated cortex

Spin me a vortex of spells

Yarn me a tale

Take me to heaven
or your own personal hell


Mesmerise me
with your poemetry.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

(n.)*: the kind of truth that makes your voice crack, no matter how many times you say it aloud

I am trapped here
in yet another metaphorical cage
with nothing to do
but talk about everything that is wrong with me.
They're turning me into someone
who even I don't recognize
and I'm terrified of losing myself
and everything that I have ever fought for.