You say,
you’re like,
a bottle.
Filling it,
with emotions,
until it cracks,
and breaks.
I am,
no chance,
in hell,
a bottle.
More like,
a jar,
shoved to,
the brim,
haphazardly.
I may not,
be as fragile,
definitely,
not as,
pretty.
Under pressure,
I may just,
burst,
into pieces.
In the end,
I’ll just leave you,
covered in,
scratches.

I guess,
I’m the bad guy.
Although,
I’m not,
entirely sure,
what I did wrong,
this time.
I’m being,
chastised,
like a child,
who did naughty.
I stare,
at the ground,
twiddle my thumbs,
and bite my tongue.
I’m sorry,
truly,
I apologize,
forgive me.
Is it okay,
are things alright?
Maybe,
it’s just me,
I’m the bad guy,
again this time.

The world,
is silent.
But I can hear,
the gears turning,
in your empty,
dull brain.
Is this,
that wake up call,
I was,
put on hold for?
The line,
it’s a dead,
rotary phone.
It turns more,
than you.

I held,
my breath,
a little too long.
Cheeks turned blue,
as I started,
to float away.
The world,
faded gradually,
beneath my feet.
Was I,
dreaming?
Most likely,
just not,
breathing.

I want to live life in a mess,
with splashes in mud puddles,
and petals scattered down the aisle.
Let myself fall,
like rain after a dry spell.
And don’t you just love the smell,
of a summer storm rolling in?
How everything comes to life,
just simply after getting wet.
I yearn for simplicity,
mosquito bites,
and june bugs stuck in hair.
Fireflies caught in jars,
like holding lightning in your hands.
And maybe that’s the way love is,
or at least how it should be,
shocking,
but a way to find home

Do you think,
you could hear me?
If only,
I screamed just,
a tiny bit,
louder.
Muffled under this,
pillow,
of solitary,
confinement.
I’m simply,
suffocating,
in this room,
muddled in,
silence.
Am I allowed,
to run?
Escape this,
nightmare,
of breathless,
disenchantments?
I’ll scream just,
a tiny bit,
louder.

Drowning,
in an empty,
man-made lake.
Choking,
on an object,
never meant,
to be swallowed.
Dancing,
with broken ankles,
tears fall,
I am constructed,
to be beautiful.
Breathing,
with lungs deflated,
like dull,
birthday balloons.
Yet you,
expect me,
to be,
cheerful?
That is nothing,
but another,
hallucination.

I watched the moon,
last night,
it danced through,
the tree limbs,
onto my,
bare skin.
I pondered,
if maybe,
you too held,
ballets,
across your chest.

Do you ever feel,
that you’re going through life,
like a story in a book?
You keep turning the pages,
appearing to be empty,
they’re filled to the brim.
With not just words,
but wishes,
you just aren’t able,
to read them.

I watch you sleep,
as the sun wakes up.
You slumber,
as songbirds,
chirp themselves,
awake.
Is it odd,
if I count,
the eyelashes,
that fall on your cheek?
Wishful thinking,
for time to pause,
even just for a moment.
Love,
Me.

I could,
send this letter,
but you’d never read it.
Instead,
I will write it,
and sweep it,
beneath the carpet.
Maybe you know,
possibly you don’t,
I could never tell,
even if I wanted.
Why is life,
so unfair,
leaving bitterness,
on my tongue?
I desire,
to know,
the answer.
Love,
Me.

Why is it,
that I feel as if,
I’m drowning?
When I am,
in fact floating,
above my own head?
My lungs,
filling with cotton,
a soft,
yet abrasive,
sadness.
It holds me,
tightly squeezing,
comfort,
in depression.
I’m choking,
not on tears,
but sea water,
instead.

I saw the moon,
golden through the clouds.
Reminding me,
of the time I once loved you,
and you poisoned my soul.
You drained me dry,
as I appeared a fool.

I’m no good,
a rotten piece of flesh.
My nails,
laced with poison,
and I like to watch you choke.
I press hard,
until skin breaks,
making crimson beads,
down your neck.
You wither,
nonexistent,
and I sweep up leftovers,
under the carpet.

The surface,
of my heart,
has cracked.
Not quite broken,
not close enough,
to perfection.
An empty vessel,
to be filled to the brim,
with restitution.
This useless,
beating *****,
bleeds heavily,
of glowing liquid.
The evidence,
of my struggle,
it's the light,
in my tunnel vision,
of emotions.
I'm drowning,
while breathing,
free falling,
in an empty sky.

I’m considered,
a dog,
chasing its,
own tail,
dim-witted,
unappreciated,
of its,
own efforts.
Probably because,
it’s going up,
an escalator,
going down,
you may,
never make it.
But for some reason,
I’m pushing on,
climbing these stairs,
that seem to be,
working full force,
against me,
but ****,
I’m going to,
make it.

I feel,
worthless,
broken,
and shattered.
My reflection,
it's blurry,
and warped,
beyond recognition.
My mouth,
tastes of,
blood,
teeth stained,
with red.
I'm a,
lost cause,
no one,
to grab,
my hand.
A joke,
made to be,
sneered at.
Like a ball-jointed,
doll,
made for,
entertainment,
and occasional,
pleasure.

I always loved,
the way,
raindrops,
seemed to hold,
fervent races,
on windows,
of buildings,
or vehicles,
and I watch them,
even now,
with such,
concentration,
like a child,
to see who wins,
and loses.

I meant to love you,
you insisted,
on running,
to her,
instead.
I meant to love you,
you called me,
boring,
not so,
intriguing,
and drove away,
in a cliché sunset.
I meant to love you,
you put me,
in time out,
like a child,
face the corner,
and said,
“Now,
think about,
all the things,
you never did.”
I meant to love you,
you kissed,
all the bruises away,
until they became,
bitter memories,
instead.

I,
am a demon.
I whisper,
my words,
they wrap,
themselves,
around,
your head,
and penetrate,
your ears.
They swim,
down your neck,
unable,
to escape,
out your mouth.
As they reach,
your heart,
they tighten,
they squeeze,
until color drained,
and left white,
empty.
I,
am a demon,
and you,
give me power.

As you start to get,
older,
and things seem to get,
simpler.
You begin to respect,
even admire,
the little things.
Like the sound of,
songbirds,
through an open,
window.
Rainstorms going pitter,
patter,
on metal pots,
and pans.
An old truck,
being brought to life,
on a cold,
Sunday morning.
They become,
magical,
in a sense,
that they bring you,
a feeling of,
fullness,
in the pit,
of your chest.

The feeling,
of uneasiness,
down deep,
in the pit,
of my stomach.
Like I ate,
one too many,
raw fish.
I can feel,
them swimming,
their way out,
of unsatisfied,
hunger.

She wore sunglasses,
while driving in the rain,
she swore,
she said,
the world is just a little,
too bright today.
It may be,
cloudy outside,
but she can't handle,
the sunshine,
with those hazy eyes,
she promises,
she says,
everything is alright.
Maybe she's crazy,
a little bit not so sane,
she wore sunglasses,
while driving in the rain,
the sun won't,
bother her,
today.

I love the way,
she whispers,
how the,
moonbeams,
gleam softly,
on sultry skin.
Could you,
call it sin,
if I watch,
her slumber,
in the mornin’,
as the sun,
rolls in?

I got,
abducted,
by aliens,
last night.
I wasn't,
exactly,
their type.
They tossed,
me back,
like a fish,
in the ocean,
tried to catch,
another.

My depression is an ocean,
coming in waves,
sometimes typhoons.
Full of other things,
like ships,
and buoys,
I may crash into.
Which causes my heart,
to race,
to pulsate,
this is my anxiety.
I can’t take it,
I can hardly breathe,
I’m choking,
on seaweed.

Love is pointless,
worthless,
and cheap.
Three words,
uttered,
purchased too easily.
It's exhausting,
dangerous,
and empty.
Love hurts,
painful,
basically scalding.
It's fire,
passionate,
put out with a simple breeze.

She smells sweet,
like roses,
laced with,
cigarette smoke.
Lips soft,
like petals,
and a lingering,
taste of tobacco.
Eyes so blue,
like the sky,
but more at night.
Like her hair,
seemingly darker,
than a cat,
on the same path.
She breathes,
poison into,
my lungs,
I inhale,
and huff,
her in.

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.

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.