Once,
I fell in love,
with a ghost,
which wasn't,
as much,
a mistake,
as it was,
a mystery.
She promised,
she would,
always,
be there,
but by habit,
she faded away,
gradually.
As I screamed,
begged,
pleaded.
I couldn't,
grab her hand,
it wasn't really,
ever there.
That was when,
I fell in love,
with a ghost,
but she didn't,
fall for me.

Like a moth,
to a flame,
you draw me in,
or is it,
insane?
I burnt,
my wings,
getting too close,
to you.
Scalding myself,
from the heat,
of your chest,
I ignite within,
a new addiction,
I inhale,
and huff,
you in.
Tasting that of,
cinnamon,
and cherries,
with a knotted stem.
You grow lavender,
in the pocket,
of your,
jeans.
I doze,
into enchanted,
dreams.

Maybe,
you’re right,
I’m just,
a sad,
pathetic,
oh woe is me,
little thing.
My half sized,
brain,
could never,
begin to,
comprehend,
such a thing.
It must be,
the size,
no,
smaller,
than a pea.
Because you,
you are,
OBVIOUSLY,
right,
right?
I mean,
who else,
could be?
Surely,
no way,
in hell,
Me.

I spit,
my tongue,
right out,
on the,
cold tile floor,
I couldn’t taste it.
You stared at me,
and it,
me,
it,
horrified,
practically disgusted.
“I thought,
that was gum,”
you said,
bewildered,
basically,
out of breath.
I would have,
answered,
but shrugged,
instead.

Hi,
nice to,
meet you.
I’m the,
disappointment,
your mother,
told you,
not,
to take,
in bed.
Instead,
you took,
a leapt,
and asked,
my hand,
to wed.
Do I,
say yes?
Or maybe,
*****,
on your,
clothes.
My favorite,
flowers,
are daffodils,
and daisies,
but they’re wilted,
and have lost,
their charm.
That should’ve,
been me,
instead.

I jumped,
right in,
this black hole,
of solitary,
confinement.
It’s nothing,
like the game,
of solitaire,
we’re not,
playing with,
cards here.
I held,
my breath,
and avidly,
did I,
long for,
oxygen.
I rolled,
the dice,
and begged,
please,
don’t be,
snake eyes.
Let me,
slither away,
to freedom,
and possibly,
enlightenment.
I’m not playing,
a game,
here,
I just,
forgot,
to hit,
save.

The eyes,
window,
to the soul.
Unfortunately,
yours,
are closed.
I peek,
I pry,
trying to,
catch a glimpse,
of what,
makes you,
glow.
Will you,
push back,
the curtains,
and crack,
the blinds?
Open,
the door,
to the beat,
of your heart.
I long,
to hear,
the sound,
of your,
world.

Do you,
think of,
me,
the way,
I,
think of,
you?
Because,
truth is,
I,
really don’t.
When the news says,
someone’s dead,
I look for,
your name,
instead.
Is that,
bad?
Possibly,
just sad?
It probably is,
but truth is,
I don’t care.
The scars you left,
wont wither,
until you taste,
the poison you,
hypocritically,
made for me.
Do you,
think of,
me,
the way,
I,
think of,
you?
Probably,
not.

I know,
it’s been,
some time.
I just wanted,
to write,
to see how,
you’ve been.
How’s the weather,
is the sun,
shining,
and the moon,
glowing?
Have you become,
the star,
you always,
hoped for?
Maybe you,
finally learned,
how to keep,
afloat,
and your head,
out of the clouds.
I hope this letter,
finds you well,
and maybe someday,
you’ll find,
your own way,
home.
Love,
Me.

Walking on walls,
dancing on the ceiling,
the room is spinning,
I’m going through,
the motions.
Playlist on shuffle,
but I don’t like this song,
or this one,
this one,
and that one too.
My tongue is twisted,
and my throat is choking,
I’m going through the motions,
I don’t wanna,
go through the motions.
I’m getting sick,
it just won’t stick,
I forgot the words,
someone hit reverse,
I don’t wanna,
go through the motions.
My mind is slipping,
my feet,
tripping,
I forgot how to,
go through the motions.
I overcompensate,
say things I shouldn’t say,
I shoot,
he scores,
I’m tired of going,
through the motions.
I jump head first,
hold my breath,
this is my chance,
I’m not going,
through the motions.

Up and down,
like a red rubber,
ball.
Yes,
you stick,
like a fly,
on the wall.
You buzz,
my ears,
and land,
on my nose.
I swat,
I zap,
but your,
persistence,
pays off.

You can’t cry,
when you’re already,
beneath,
the surface.
For fear that,
you might drown,
your mouth stays shut,
there is no scream,
under the ocean.
It’s pointless,
worthless,
to let,
tears fall.
The water,
can’t taste,
more like,
the salt lines,
on your cheeks.
Is it empty,
to be so full,
you’re bursting,
at the seams?
Just a sunken,
ship,
at the,
bottom,
of the,
ocean.

Her skin tastes,
that of stars,
and her hair,
has the scent,
of lilacs,
and driftwood,
tainted by,
morningdew.
I can’t help,
but stop,
and stare for,
just a few.

There’s a tornado,
in my throat,
and I,
can’t seem,
to get the words,
out of,
the pit,
in my stomach.
I’m choking,
on letters,
that make words,
never heard.

Don’t drown,
Mr. Fish,
he forgot,
how to hold,
his breath.
Glub glub,
he says.
His fins,
don’t work,
Mr. Fish,
can’t you,
swim?
The water is,
too deep,
in his bowl.
Don’t drown,
Mr. Fish.

There's a girl in the glass box,
poor little bird can't fly.
Her wings have been snipped,
bound in ribbon,
made of knives.
Girl in the glass box,
what are you doing in there?
I can see you screaming,
why can't I hear a sound?
Please, shattered doll,
don't you cry,
you're out of time.
Girl in the glass box,
who are you?
With your brown hair,
made of curls,
won't you please tell me?
Poor broken doll,
with her bruised,
bleeding porcelain skin.
Girl in the glass box,
will you let me in?

I am unable to be happy,
that is my conclusion,
a self-diagnosis.
I simply just,
cannot be satisfied,
it's just that,
honestly.
I sit there,
and stare,
dumbfounded,
I don't know,
I don't care.
Bottom lip sticking out,
legs crossed,
arms folded,
tapping the mole,
on my left bicep.
It's not my fault,
really,
I'm frustrated,
it isn't fair.
I don’t care,
I don't know,
how to be happy,
that is my conclusion,
a self-diagnosis.

My legs,
I can’t feel them.
Dear God,
I can’t move.
The devil,
put a curse,
on me.
He cracked,
my bones,
used them,
as forks,
and spoons.
I've become,
cutlery,
for Satan,
instead.

I found myself,
drowning,
unable,
to reach,
the surface.
Not quite,
dead,
yet unable,
to be called,
living.
My lungs fill,
to the brim,
as if I’m the,
sunkissed pitcher,
with sour lemonade,
inside of it.
I can’t breathe,
I’m pursed lipped,
wont accept it,
it is not,
my decision.
My cheeks,
warm yet,
wet.
Salty,
unlike,
my lungs.
It’s not,
fair,
but I’m not,
a child,
anymore.
Throwing,
tantrums,
until you give,
and I get,
my way.

Please,
I beg of,
thee,
bury,
me.
No,
a snorkel,
isn’t,
necessary,
I do not,
require,
to breathe,
and I forgot,
how to swim.
Bring tools,
to dig,
a hole,
deep.
****,
I broke,
a nail,
attempting,
free.
Worthless,
please,
push dirt,
over my head,
I’d much rather,
be dead.
Grant my wish,
desperately,
I’ve been,
good,
promisingly,
let me,
leave.

This year,
I want to,
live.
I’ll fly,
on onyx wings,
made of butterflies,
and broken,
tree limbs.
This year,
I crave to,
grow.
I’ll plant,
my own seeds,
and water,
roots,
that I’m sure,
will reach.
This year,
I’m going to,
jump.
I’ll hold,
my breath,
and know,
that yes,
I’m learning,
once again,
I can,
breathe.
This year,
I’m going to,
live,
I will fly,
jump right in,
into water,
that will grow,
my garden,
holding my breath,
I will swim,
to the surface,
breathing.

I hope,
you’re dead,
with little,
tiny maggots,
swimming,
in your,
head.
That’d be too,
easy,
like a fish,
off the hook.
I want you,
to be,
the worm,
wriggling,
for a sense of,
free.
I will,
dig you from,
the dirt,
you call,
home,
squish you,
under my,
converse.

She’s a sun dancer,
she smiles softly,
and breathes kisses,
onto the nape,
of your neck.
She lights cigarettes,
with the heat,
from her,
chest.
Is it sin,
forbidden,
to take a taste,
of the flavors,
she mixed?
Fingertips,
glide hesitantly,
among her,
hips.
Lustful marks,
left behind,
bruised fingerprints,
the curves,
of crooked,
teeth,
and my own,
dreams.
I don’t know her,
but I inhale,
and huff,
her in.

I saw butterflies,
perch,
on my toes,
last night.
They fluttered down,
from the ceiling,
calling my sole,
their home.
Onyx wings,
somehow sparkle,
in the late,
early hours,
of dawn.
I ponder,
will they,
carry me,
to my end,
this time?
Only wishes,
and the anxiety,
of being lost,
again,
this time.
I dream,
of freedom,
from reality.
It’s mocking my,
illusions,
birthing them into,
hallucinations.
My brain,
broken,
haphazardly,
glueing,
the pieces,
together.
Lost,
I’m drowning,
forgotten,
I should be,
flying.

Lips pursed,
blowing bubbles,
and placing kisses,
on the back of,
wrists,
that lay there,
bleeding.
A sick,
smile,
a smirking,
child,
breathes hot air,
against fogged windows,
drawing pictures,
of ******,
figures.
The world is all,
consuming,
trapping me behind,
bars,
bullet proof glass rooms,
it keeps me,
spinning.
I am twisting,
turning,
my stomach,
it keeps it churning,
dizzying,
I am losing,
no I’m,
winning.
Drink the liquor,
it drowns out,
the sound,
and keeps,
us swimming.
Nicotine laced,
smoking kisses,
it helps you,
pull the trigger.

I used to,
beg to be,
different.
Longed for,
oddity,
uniqueness.
Now I’m craving,
normality,
familiar,
experiences.
God is mocking me,
finally granting,
my wishes.
While also,
divulging in my,
desires.
It’s not,
fair,
I no longer,
yearn to,
disappear.
But there seems,
to be a,
delay in,
messages.
I prayed,
at the wrong,
time,
and now,
I’ve forgotten,
how to say,
amen.
Can someone,
pay the toll,
I’m losing,
my way,
home.

Light a cigarette,
and it,
fills your consciousness.
It drowns your mind,
it pools into your lungs,
it teaches you how to live it,
poisons your brain.
Can you remember,
how to breathe,
take one in,
scream it out,
pull the trigger,
and blow your mind.
Stop and think,
for just a minute,
nicotine laced smoke kisses,
to clear the head.
Pop a percocet,
choke on the curses,
bite the hand,
that fed your ***** mouth,
you sick child,
don’t you listen?
Light a cigarette,
stop and breathe,
for just a,
minute.

Last night,
I dreamt,
of your lips,
pressed gently,
against my,
pale neck.
My heart,
skips,
sputters,
to a pause.
I ponder,
if you too,
dream of sin.
The fog carries,
a lust,
I have only,
been forbid.

You told me,
don’t let go,
even when,
you’re dead.
Then you,
unlocked,
our fingers,
like taking,
one last breath.
You’re not dead,
just a reflection,
in a smudged mirror,
cracked far beyond,
repair.
I won’t let go,
but not because,
you told me so.
I’ll turn my,
back to the,
past.
In the sky,
look for me,
this time.
I’m the one,
holding on,
to the clouds.

It’s the smell of cigarettes,
too early in the morning.
When you choke on your own spit,
and snort while you laugh.
It’s the carbonated drink,
in the old pillsbury dough boy cup.
The way the sun shines,
between white curtains,
that are almost translucent.
It’s saying the word,
“****!”,
when your lighter doesn’t work.
It’s the red carpet on the stairs,
and the way they creak,
when you haven’t quite mastered them.
It’s making mud pies,
in the puddle of your driveway,
every time it pours.
When you hit the wrong light switch,
though it’s been more than a few years
It’s the sound of the breaks,
when the bus stops in the morning,
and you can barely roll out of bed.
The sweet smell of dandelions,
before your dad mows them.
It’s dyeing your hair,
and staining your friend’s bathroom sink.
It’s losing your bra in a glovebox,
and never finding it again.
It’s learning how to live,
before you lose your chance.

When you,
feel alone,
and can’t,
seem,
to stay,
afloat.
Read me,
when you,
seem so,
down,
you can,
only,
go up.
Read me,
when you,
are unable,
to breathe,
the words,
seem lost,
in between,
your teeth.
Read me,
when you,
can’t seem,
to read,
and the words,
are just,
gibberish,
on the blinking,
screen.
Read me,
when you,
feel as if,
you need,
to be,
read.

She’s made of,
stardust,
and dances,
on the surface,
of the,
moon.
She breathes,
the scent,
of roses,
with a hint,
of cigarettes,
and black cherry,
incense.
She intoxicates,
the room,
with her,
presence,
as she twirls,
and spins,
the world,
does too.

Her eyes,
follow you,
across the crowd.
And you,
your curiosity,
can’t help it.
She blushes,
turns away,
didn’t see,
the glint,
in your own.
Is this,
the start,
of a cliché,
garbage,
romance?
Big brown eyes,
can only see,
what the daytime,
can’t.
Girl’s a daydreamer,
in the search,
of a night owl,
dance.

I keep her,
in a jar,
tight lipped,
and sealed,
with holes,
big enough,
for air.
She screams,
muffled,
by her own,
containment.
If she,
cries,
she might,
drown,
in her own,
confinement.
No one,
is aware,
of my little,
experiment.
It hurts,
me,
more than,
her,
to witness,
entrapment.
My heart,
shatters,
at the,
predicament.
But I can’t,
speak,
I lost,
the words,
and the pen,
to write them.

I take,
scissors,
to my,
tongue.
Only then,
I won’t,
have to,
listen,
to myself,
drone.
I’ll snap,
my fingers,
at the knuckles,
puncture,
eardrums,
still,
I won’t,
shut up.

I’m,
choking,
there’s,
something,
stuck,
in my,
throat.
Most,
likely,
my own,
heart,
hollowed,
is attempting,
an,
escape.
Like a,
sponge,
it soaks,
up all,
damage,
begins to,
crumble.
I breathe,
through,
holes left,
behind,
a past,
rescue,
mission.
A,
lost,
cause.
I just,
want,
to,
breathe,
again.

There’s this,
demon,
inside of,
me.
It plays,
a facade,
and looks,
just like,
me.
Whispers,
you are,
worthless,
not,
wanted,
so,
pathetic,
me.
I beg,
please,
stop,
just for a,
minute,
for,
me.
I laugh,
the demon,
frowns,
it’s obviously,
been a,
reflection,
just,
Me.

Time moves,
so slow.
Like a snail,
on the clock,
nailed to the,
wall.
The slime,
it seeps,
into the gears,
of it all.
Almost,
as if,
we go backwards,
as he inches,
along.

I think,
I feel,
sick.
Absolutely,
most definitely,
overly,
nauseous.
I’m going to,
*****,
right in,
my bare,
hands.
The words,
they spill,
all wrong,
staining,
the carpet,
and my own,
white shirt.
It’s obvious,
I’m such,
a mess.

I held on,
as you slipped,
right through,
my calloused,
fingertips.
My breath,
got caught,
in the back,
of my,
throat.
I swear,
I saw your,
reflection,
beside mine.
Instead it,
was a shadow,
tricking me,
into believing,
you’re not,
dead.
My head,
spins,
searching for,
you.
Running,
out of,
time,
or is,
the clock,
broken?

This love,
melts,
like hard candy,
on the pavement,
in warm sunshine.
And would you,
call it,
sin,
if I watch,
you slumber,
as the morning,
rolls in?
Holding my,
breath,
your scent,
makes me,
spin.
Intoxicated,
only in,
your,
presence.
You are,
sour,
yet,
too sweet,
leaving,
heat,
dancing among,
my tastebuds.
I could,
swallow,
someone,
like you,
whole.
Instead,
I’ll let,
you linger,
a little,
while,
longer.

Hello again,
it’s been too long.
I apologize,
you see,
somehow I lost,
not just my words,
but also my pen.
Maybe you can,
begin to understand.
Love,
Me.

Maybe it’s the,
blue skies,
green fields,
or the dirt roads.
It could be,
white clouds,
cool breezes,
or the smell of,
s’mores over a bonfire.
More than likely,
it’s the music,
playing on the radio,
making me fall,
more in love with you.

I’m made of,
blue skies,
sunshine,
fluffy clouds,
and rainbows.
Yet I tend to rain,
and have clouded eyes,
my touch can be lightening.
How am I,
even nearly enough,
to be able to breathe?
I fear that,
you hate me,
the rest of the sky,
just tolerates.
I’m filled,
to the brim,
with insecurity,
and unnecessary,
anxiety.
A storm,
of emotions,
and uncertainty.

My heart,
it’s broken.
I feel as though,
all the wind,
has been blown,
out of me.
Becoming empty,
and withered,
into nothing.
Won’t you,
breathe into,
me?
Please,
lend me some,
of your air.
Inflate me,
like a balloon,
and watch me float,
away.

I hope,
I never cross,
your mind.
Just forget me,
block off the path,
worn into,
the mentality,
of your brain.
Let me fade,
like the bitter taste,
of sugarless,
lemonade.
Breath easy,
knowing I’m okay,
without your presence,
on a short lived leash.

The moon,
she lies.
Claims to be,
made of,
cheese.
But does not,
pair well,
with wine.

There is no point,
in rain,
on a winter morning.
It melts,
the beauty,
in the snow,
and makes,
your eyeliner run.
Freezing over,
roads,
causing you to slip,
and break a nail.
But,
it makes,
cheeks redden,
with the cold.
It causes,
fingertips,
to search for yours,
retrieving their warmth.
I like witnessing,
our hot breath,
blending together.
That’s the point,
in rain,
on a cold winter,
morning.

How ridiculous,
to feel,
out of breath.
When you’re,
barely breathing,
to begin with.
Your mouth,
tastes of metal,
because you were,
stupid.
Bit down,
on your tongue,
too hard.
Who am I,
you ask?
You’re looking,
in a mirror,
*******.

I want to lose myself,
surround myself,
with this consuming,
darkness.
Getting smaller,
basically,
nonexistent.
I really don’t,
want to be,
me.
I’ve forgotten,
who,
I might be.