To the love and trust you once owned
Say Goodbye
To all the privileges merited
say goodbye
Because they're gone faster than you've earned the temporary happiness
But now it's all gone
Say goodbye
You contemplate stopping your anti-depressants just to feel something again
Because the messed you've made has only numbed you
Hurting yourself is more rewarding than others hurting you
Because you can stop if you want to
Sometimes
You have the control
But say goodbye
Everything is gone and so am I

Is living breathing?
Is it uncomfortable?
Or is it beautiful?

Is surviving breathing?
Is it painful?
Or is it delightful?

Definitions are actions
Not words

Surviving is inhaling and exhaling
It is laborious
It is restlessly avoiding death

Living is breathing
It is loving
It is balanced
It is enjoying yourself and the world.

I wonder if we'll ever get the chance to live

When your paving new roads of living
But your own blood brings back the past like it’s a beautiful scrapbook
Pointing and adding their own comments like it's something new

But living In a trash bag will suffocate you.

You're the inconvenience at the bottom of that trash bag
Except they treat you like a silver spoon
Then realize you're merely a used plastic knife

And living in a trash bag will suffocate you.

They assume all your thoughts and feelings
Because you're dead to them
And bringing to your grave nothing but fists and bad attitudes

Being dead can't hurt you.

But unfortunately I'm in the bottom of the black trash bag
Along with immature arguments
And stinging comments

The fight I've put up hasn't been enough
Hopefully one day they’ll recycle this trash bag to become something new again.

Feeling guilty when kissing foreign lips
but saying your name through my head at the same time I was being taken advantage of.
We're both guilty of taking advantage of the other, however.
Me for my body
and you merely because your name his is face
but nothing's really the same
and now I'm completely sure that I love you.

"Welcome back," says the silver stained rectangles
when that's the only hand you can hold because every other coping mechanism is just as harmful.

"Welcome home," says the sideways thoughts
when you're sliding through the crevices of your brain but get stuck in a black hole socket.

"Are you warm yet?" asks the deep red valleys
when you're bearing over your sink and covering your arm in dark wash rags.

"Do you remember this?" asks the familiar burn of the white soap in the red shower,
asks the watered eyes and soaking pillowcase,
asks the summer of sophomore year,
asks the midnight letters never sent,
asks the boy who never forgave me for helping him like my parents are doing to me,
asks my father,
who's reflection burns with wild red hair and bad decisions,
is his daughter
who asks is there even hope?

Decision after decision
is death after death
is another look of disappointment
from the adults who knew me as an intelligent kid

We're working backwards in timeless cities
where "getting over it" are my good mornings
and tearful hands around my throat are my good nights

Suitcases filled with souvenirs just to visit my own home
but nothing feels like home anymore
maybe your arms are the welcome mat
and maybe its the highway

no one knows
but everyone knows my mistakes
and there's no going back now
this is who I am.
A Disappointment

See, I'm not allowed to go back to the welcome mat called home
Merely because of a boy with green lungs

Bedtime story mouths say you're heading down a path of destruction
But how am I supposed to sit back and let that happen?

Because a way of living they don't approve of,
I am force fed hypocritical helping hands
Moonlit hearts and guilty rules

That palpation in your heart called pain
Does not escape in the form of smoke, blood, or tears.

Listen to me
let my words sit in the crevices of your brain just this once

This is not good for me
Its eating me from the inside out
Leaving the memory of you behind

My heart is reproducing arms
And they are reaching out my chest
Stretching out for miles
Just trying to find you