xix. but if i were to die by my own hands (my honest dying note would probably mention my uni life) would he turn a blind eye like he always does or would he erase me as if i was never there? i'll never know because i wont die just because i want to. i'll never know, of course, because i'll live and graduate and i'll be the one who forgets him, not vice versa

the only reason im here is to run away & i failed, so i keep seeking for ways to flee, i keep fighting my own shadow. why would anyone study their soul out just to get into the so called best uni in the country that is far away from their home, i wonder as well. my intention was not to study, i wanted to die. im breathing fine. sometimes i get too excited it's so uncomfortable & when i fall it's a dry and dusty abandoned well, you know that my vision stays in the ground. doesnt the soil look lovely, i wonder as well.

the only reason im here is because i am alive, i dont know why it is so obvious to other people yet it's an epiphany to me. i shouldnt be alive today. i shouldnt have survived 2014, let alone 2015 & 2016. it's almost may and now i start to think how nice it will be to be old and have more space for peace rather than keeping chaos as a pet.

this is embarrassing, sure, but sometimes i think i need to feel embarrassed. do you get what i mean, because i kinda dont. anyway, if this is something i can be proud of, i'll without any doubt brag to my parents and post it all over my social media. ive never liked bragging online, but if it's so good i'll think so hard of why not and still not get any good answer. it's a curse for vain people to get trapped inside a body with low self esteem. (fact)

maybe i made a mistake when i entered this uni. all i could think of was death, i didn't think i would be alive until halfway to graduation. now i dont worry about when i'll be able to die anymore, i just worry about when i'll be able to properly study just like the student i used to be. i just worry if i can graduate on time, i just worry if i can graduate with honor. how naive this kid is, i hope she remembers how she totally ruined her grades last semester. (no i dont mean thats the right pronoun i just go with the flow)

there is no flow, of course. why am i saying these things on a poetry website rather than on my rant blog, i wonder as well. i worry about the future & now all the pictures have me in them. i have many regrets about the past but they are a part of what makes me myself. (certainly not a claim that i have a clear sense of self) as for the present, i dont really like being here. i still feel like it will feel so great to not exist at all. but im breathing in anticipation. is it believable, my looking forward to the future, i wonder as well.

is this liquid? i ask
myself because there's no one else
in this room i fall in love with indulgences
never falling out again
i'm a loyal lover of unhealthy desires
if you can call it desire
then i can call myself a lover
of anything that goes through my throat
in and out, in and out
i ask, is this liquid? the bed sheet
is white, translucent at the part
where i lay myself
dry

where
where is a friend in distress of mine?
so many people. none to love.
a body is unnecessary
don't you think? skin, flesh, bone are
too far a distance
so many interactions. none to connect to.
why would i isolate myself? that
just comes as natural
as a textbook

It’s too hot to sleep, and so I’m sitting on the curb. A mosquito whispers in my ear and I lazily sweep her away, I don’t have time to listen.  Not tonight. Not now when his breath is stained with alcohol, not when his eyes are red from restless nights. Wakeless nightmares. He sits on the curb in silence--sitting next to me--hunched over, his spine silhouetted on his skin. And we sit there for hours, exchanging no words, only breaths. Each taking a turn breathing in a little poison.

Those old school friends with their cigarette lips
They don't think of the likes of me or you,
Up on the golden screen.
We weren't quite quiet or reckless
We trialled in something temperate but restless.
Something we bore down to bone,
A noisy belief in man, blurred like a Monet, believed to be etched in stone.
But those old school friends, like you and I, had frames to contain their Icarus flight.  Now, follow on in your new momentary monetary monastery you now call home.
The curious truth is the note is a note regardless of the flute. The credits close, the air stalled, and most rigorously life itself cares not for the "who", but slitheringly moves on.

Do you remember,
Lying on the tennis court at 2 am,
our backs damp from the midnight rain,
and the sky sprinkled with pinpricks?
Do you remember the silence,
the blended darkness
that fit into us perfectly?
Do you remember how you looked at me
And smiled,
Told me how happy you were,
That we would always stay together?
Forever?
Because I do.
And I hope you do too.

People used to tell me
“You say sorry way too much.” This of course would always bring on a clumsy apology
“Yeah I know. I’m sorry.”
They’d also say that sorry is a ******* phrase, that you’ve got to change before you can be sorry.
But I know for a fact that when I apologize I’m saying so because I  am sorry.
I’m sorry but no I didn’t do my homework last night.
Oh I’m sorry that ***** dish I left in the sink—Insert lame excuse here.
Hey, you know that book you let me borrow? Oops, sorry.
See? It’s all better. And so, I’m sorry:  
To that desk for breaking your braces through your cheek.  
For not plugging your ears to those malicious words that no back, not even yours, was meant to bear.
That you went hungry because my allowance wasn’t for you, it was for a my little pony instead.
That you still aren’t better,
at least… not yet.
Sorry To that glass that broke the wall right behind your head.
That you can’t stop suckling on that bottle no matter how hard you try and pull your lips away.
That you lost your hair, house, job and, someone seems to have stolen your smile.
That you have never really been loved, at least, at least not the right way. And maybe it’s my fault…
But when worst meets worst and your hands are beaten and blistered from carrying your troubles. When your mountain is far too tall to climb. Just know that I am sorry. And that’s all I can be
is sorry.

Their thoughts intertwined within each others
Each exploring deep thoughts of the other
Their souls seemed made for one another,
Soon fade apart.
The obvious fate of their futures with out eachother drove them mad.
Eachs passion for eachother grew as the time went on
And they made their homes in eachothers hearts
When the time came they fell into an abyss of loss and despair
And when their souls faded black,
They stayed black forever