Everything you do will be a miracle
when you start respecting yourself
just the way you are

You realize
how important words are
when you can’t find them

Maybe it’s not
A needle and thread,
But a voice.
One which carries words
On waves above a crowd.

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

I am so afraid of becoming White Collar Micheal.
He likes to act like his life is so hopelessly blightful, because his name is White Collar Micheal.
On the weekend, he throws on a tie-dye.
Goes from Business Man, to Mr. Nice Guy?
Deep down you know it's a facade, aka,
Your big life's a big lie.  
He does so many uppers you may as well call it the tweekend.
He fills his mind with illusions of grandeur.
I look at him and think "you need to be a man first."
Instead of filling my head with candy and dreams, I face my demons.
And it's utterly delightful because I know I will never become a
White Collar Micheal.

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.

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 keep pen to paper
As if these words will heal me

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

I could never own a gun,
I'm too much of a risk for that.