I'm not good at taking care of the people I love.
I can make a cup of tea, but I will still hand it to you
with shaking hands,
hands that want to strangle the illness out of you.
I can tuck a person in at night, but I will begin living out
a nightmare,
a nightmare that begins as soon as I extinguish the light and take my mask off for the day.
I can go to the doctors office, but my brain will process any form of news as negative,
news that flaunts around a stage and presents optimism,
will still reinforce that the end is near, that a show cannot last forever.
I can go to a prison, or a house and visit, but I will tremble with anger at the situation, maybe direct it at a person who is chained both physically and mentally.
I can continue to walk through the normal motions of life, but I will be triggered,
triggered by the thought of losing the ones I care for most, by the fact that I will never do enough, say enough, be enough, and when I do it will be the ugliness of a disease spreading in me, a cancerous trauma that I have lived with my whole life.

Jesus has risen.
But what else?
The sea level, and it was already up to my chest.
My blood pressure, and the screaming just made it worse.
A desire to vanish, and in a more permanent way.
For a moment I envied being an absent God to people.
I would feel their love, and they would know that they are loved,
yet they wouldn't need to
hear me,
see me,
feel me,
smell me,
or taste me
to believe in the overflowing love I possess for everyone but myself.

You decided to find someone better,
My stomach drops before I've even met her.
I bet she stands as tall as the redwood trees,
with just the right amount of confidence and ease.

I knew I was never your first choice,
but I've always hoped you would hear my voice.

It's a voice so soft, with a message so heavy,
and the weight of this message leaves the grave as my levee.

I need to get myself out of this
California hell
Cause there’s a fire burning in my lungs

I know I was born and raised to love these long and hot summer days
And I know you’ll always be my blood

But I’ve never,
thought about the rest of the world
And i’ll never grow if
I’ve never really felt the cold

I hope that you can learn to love yourself, after what you did to me.
Cause I know you well and I know that thoughts can overwhelm,
And you're not getting over me.

You lit the match, you pulled the trigger.
You ****** it up again,
I don’t feel bad, and I’m not bitter,
So do what you do best.

I’m counting on myself, to get out of this house, this hell you call a home? What a ******* joke.
You’re never even here, and when you are, you're passed out on the kitchen floor.
I’m not the type of girl, who wants to settle down, I’ll leave your heart behind in another town
I’m not the type of bird, who flies home to a nest, every night until her timely death.

If I were a bird, I’d fly far away, I’d never look back, never let myself stay
In one place for long, because it gets boring
And I’d rather be soaring high, like a swift in the sky,
A thief in the night, but

the only thing I'm stealing is my freedom now.
And the only way I'll get it is to leave this town
I don't have much time, I'm not planting seeds here
Im just trying to fly.

I haven’t touched my suitcase since I’ve come home,
and I miss your voice so if you would pick up your phone.
I’ve noticed I’m alone here, this house is far from a home.

Cause broken bottles on the floor
is something that cant go ignored
And holes in walls from ****** fists
Just make my stomach churn and twist

And I'm tired.
Tired of this.
And I'm tired
I wasnt built to live with this.

“Call me.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Please ******* call me.”

I don’t sleep well anymore
I need pills to help with that.
Sometimes I sleep too much
I need pills to help with that.
I think about how I’m going to die a lot
I need pills to help with that.
I worry about what I’ll do if I lose you first
I need pills to help with that.
I feel the most lonely in crowded places
With loud banter and familiar faces
I feel the most lonely in my head
The curtains blocking the sun, I’m a slave to my bed
I need pills to help with that.
And I don’t like taking them,
They make me feel less capable, and more ashamed that I cannot function happily like the others.
I need pills to help with that.
I need them but I don’t want them,
And because I don’t want them,
I don’t take them, and because I don’t take them
I take myself to the top of a building, and find peace from the thought of jumping.
Will you watch me fly like a bird, float like a feather? Let me find peace among my brain’s bad weather?
I don’t need pills to help with that.
Can you help with that?

My heart shatters into a million pieces
When i hear her ascendancy through the phone.
She does not speak to you, and yelling would be an understatement.
I can see you tremble when her name appears on your phone screen.
She’s 5’2, harmless but fiesty
But i disagree, in my eyes
She is a destructive, aggressive, poisonous
Being.
There may be glimpses of light and purity within her,
But that’s all they are.
Glimpses.
She was whole once and the world broke her, and she had the decision to
Pick up the pieces and build something better,
Or break everything in her path in the way she once broke.

Mama are you coming home tonight?
If you’re not, will you be mad if I
Tuck myself into your bed
Try on your pajama shirt,
And lie awake until you come back
To play with each curl on my head,
And let your fingers dance
Like little ballerinas across my back

I feel really empty;
Like my stomach is a bottomless pit-
Needing fulfillment of some sort
That cannot be found in this world

I want to swallow pills
Or drive into traffic
And get into bed with someone dangerous.
Maybe drown in a dark beautiful ocean
Find something that makes me feel

I want the pain to make me want to live
I want it to send a signal to my brain
To fight instead of struggle
To try harder than it already is

Something isnt working
And I am impatient.
I dont like sitting around waiting for maintenance and repair.
I want it to be black and white
Life or death
Make up your mind, brain.
I can’t handle teetering on the tightrope any longer.
No more back and fourth
No more waves of misery followed by happiness
I just want it to be this or that.
I want to want to be alive and be alive
Or be dead and be done

I'm counting on myself, to get out of this house,
this hell you call a home? What a ******* joke.
You're never even here, and when you are,
your passed out on the kitchen floor.

I'm not the type of girl, who wants to settle down,
I'll leave your heart behind in another town.
I'm not the type of bird, who flies home to a nest,
every night until her timely death.

If I were a bird, I'd fly far away,
I'd never let back I'd never let myself stay
in one place for long, because it gets boring,
and I'd rather be soaring high.

Like a swift in the sky, a thief in the night.

Somewhere between twelve and fifteen years ago,
I learned to keep my mouth closed.
Mama laughed at the dinner table, Daddy rolled his eyes.
Always had to tell her, "That's not lady-like."
So I learned to whisper, if I needed salt or pepper.
And I always swore, Daddy's eyes could start a war.

I don't want to go home to a place like this.
I don't want to go home to a place I'm walking on glass.

Sometime long ago, my Mama's fire would barely glow.
I asked her, "Mama, Mama, where did it go?"
She told me, "Darling" and looked in my eyes, said, "Sparks are hot but they quickly die. And when Daddy doesn't feed this flame, the love will die just the same."

That's just table talk that's just the way things go.
We sit in silence as we watch the clock tick on and on and on.

Stay a while and be my muse,
the only time you tell the truth
is in a room of mirrors,
filled with tiny dancing figures.

I can see it in your eyes,
you aren't in this room.
Your leaps lift you from the lies,
and your twirling in full bloom.

But I've heard stories of you,
and I can't help wonder if they're true.
Do you hear the whispers follow you?
Or do you drown them out with those dancing shoes?

But I don't care if what they say is valid,
you put me in a trance as you dance another ballad.

Why in the world would you show him something so horrific,
I can hear the voices in his head say, "This is terrific."
They're spinning and stirring like they always do,
and now they get to focus on something brand new.

That is my brother, and he cannot handle
things of that sort, a film or a scandal.
Get out of your seat, and leave the room,
take him with you, or the voices will consume.

Are you out of your mind, haven't you learned
that the voices in his head weren't planted, they were earned.
From one trauma to the next, it filled in his chest
but he's finally on meds, he's doing his best.

Anytime I smile in your direction,
I see it spread through your body like a
******* infection.

And that makes me sick, to affect you that way
I want you to live, get lost like a stray.

Anytime I touch you, on accident or purpose,
it's like your convinced waiting for me,
is worth it.

And that makes me sick, to affect you that way
because I don't love you anymore, I don't want you to stay.

Every man I start to understand helps me grow.
From strangers to lovers, to company under covers,
each one goes to show-

that you really have to love yourself,
before you're with somebody else,
or you'll become someone you don't know.

Please hold me,
don't let go.
I need to be held,
but I don't like asking.
Just for tonight,
just until the sun tells us
"it's time to go home."

I point to the stars,
you say they're in my eyes.
I laugh and brush it off this time.

We're here at night,
but I miss the sun.
You tell me you are looking at one.

I ask you what your favorite planet is,
and then you do the same.
My butterflies are getting harder to tame.

I'd love to go to outer space,
see all the planets and the stars.
It's time to leave though now, so you walk me to the car.

I can't keep you safe anymore,
sweet girl.
You are older now, and the world
undresses in front of you,
day by day.
It seemed too good to be true,
because it was.
This world is a cold and dark place,
a nightmare in the shape of a
daydream.

The liquor wafted its way
scorching the dimly lit path.
His hot and heavy breath pounced
on the back of my neck,
burning worse than his throat as he
tossed back one shot after the other.

I am scared, but I remain calm.
I do not want him to have the satisfaction
that men like him get from a hunt.
I wonder if he can sense my hesitance,
or if he is so utterly intoxicated.
the kind of intoxication that excuses such behavior.

I am the bookshelf, and she is the books.
So many interesting stories inside of her.
I watch you every single day, scoop up a new book,
and leave my shelves more empty than before.

As the books leave my shelves, I imagine all the places you take them.
Coffee shops, with comfy lounge chairs and the constant reassurance from the espresso beans.
Parks, with a nice breeze and picnic to compliment the sweet words that pour into your mind.
Home, where you gush about how wonderful your newest story is, and bring her safely to the solitude of your bedroom.

But I am the bookshelf, and I will provide a sturdy environment,
I am strong and I've held myself together for so long.
I listen, I watch, and I wait for you every single day,
and will continue to do so until my shelves can't bear it anymore.

You could have been a gardener.
I saw you with the tulips in our yard,
and I watched you for hours as you tended to them.
Every time the rain came I asked,
"Will it hurt the tulips?"
You always replied with,
"No, everything needs a bit of rain to grow."

"I am so sorry for your loss."
No you're not, you watched her cross
to the other side, and didn't even try
to stop her or send her back,
so don't start with this lie.

"She's in a better place."
No she's not, her family is here.
How could one still feel whole
without her three children near?

"How's your family holding up?"
How do you think?
Were trembling and broken,
and could all use a drink.

"This will only make you stronger."
I don't see how, I am alone and upset
and I don't want to go out.
I hate the world without her in it,
close the door behind you, just quit.

Congratulations!
it's cancer awareness month.
Just wanted you to be aware,
your mother has cancer.

Welcome!
to stage four,
two to seven months
to live.

You have been chosen!
to grieve for these next few months
and pray to a God who may
or may not listen.

I pretended,
and got good at it.
But that didn't make it any easier.

I lied,
and got good at it.
But that didn't make it any easier.

I stole,
and got good at it.
But that didn't make it any easier.

I cheated,
and got good at it.
But that didn't make it any easier.

I ****** up,
and got good at it.
But that didn't make it any easier.

The street four stories below me,
captivates me the same as the ocean.
Dark and smoothly paved roads,
paired with car engines that call to me,
the sirens of the street.
All I want is to drown in
the dark abyss below.

Just a little warrant.
Nothing important enough
to break up our invaluable and vital
small talk.

The kid can wait.
He should be used to it by now,
waiting for those voices to go away,
for those people to leave his family alone.

Just a mental illness
A lost cause,
who brought this upon himself.

The kid should be thankful,
for people like us,
We protect the city with our oblivion.
There are no problems with our system,
because we ignore the mentally ill.

And everybody knows
if you don’t see something,
It probably doesn’t exist.

I am impressed
at how easily you caught me,
just to toss me back into the
relentless waves of society.

You have won.
You triumph
in the game that is the sea.

But I can't help but wonder,
was it because I am too easy a catch?
Or are you so skilled and so experienced,
that you felt nothing when you threw me back?

Everything around me seems to be 500 stories tall,
When I make it to the top, I'm still haunted by the fall.
White walls around me, paired with white coats
No windows, no sunshine, just a cold stethoscope.

I don't want to be here, cared for, or analyzed
My emotions are raw, and I don't want them supervised
Put your pen down, please stop writing my expression
and maybe you'd be better at your so called "profession."

Not everything is a prescription, my mind will not tame.
You say that I matter, but I could not say the same.
So when you watch me, watch the white wall,
don't bother reaching out, just let me fall.

I want to ask you how your day went,
but at the same time I don’t;
because my stomach becomes more knotted
than my hair after a windy day at the beach,
when thinking of you.

I try to keep my mind from drifting to the image of you
holding a cigarette between your fingers,
and I try to forget the gray smoke,
that clouds your lungs
and turns your eyes
from blue to gray.

It hurts picturing the once innocent and curious boy
that I knew growing up. He is now only a memory I cling to.
I only want to see you grow from these choices you make.
I guess I’m just afraid that
you’ll soon become the ashes that you leave behind.