"If it feels like suicide again today, I give up."

I want to disappear, become invisible. I'd rather lay in a coffin than live this life.

Me : bye.
bad habit: bye?
Me : yeah. They say it takes 21 days to get rid of a bad habit. Tomorrow is day one. So for now, bye.
Bad Habit : what bad habit?
Me : you.
People too, can be bad habits.
Day 1. My brain kept yelling at my heart, asking her to stop weeping over a love she won’t receive. Brain warned heart and heart didn’t listen. The rest of my body tried ignoring this Civil War, attempting to find ways to keep me busy. Heart wept so much it worried Brain to spending the night numb to everything but my ears just to make sure Heart wouldn’t give in and stop pumping blood or convince Lungs to stop breathing.
Day 2. I spent my day locked up in my room browsing the Internet and having consecutive naps but you kept running in my mind and weighing me down. You are the reason I am weak, not the lack of food. I went to see my best friend at dawn because you shout in my mind and stab my heart when it gets dark and I was actually afraid of being by myself. I couldn’t witnesses parts of me fighting because of you all night again. I kept thinking of how I shouldn’t be thinking of you. My mind is very upset with my heart.
Day 3. I spent the day with my friends and we danced all day and you weren’t in my mind until a handsome guy came my way and all I could talk to him was about you. I thought I was getting cured but it seems that my mind is playing a cruel joke on me.
Day 4. My knuckles are ****** from all the ways I tried to stop myself from texting you. Eventually, I had to delete your numbers and block you from every social network to stop myself from talking to you.
Day 5 : I saw my doctor today. I have to go to Pretoria for further mental evaluation. It seems like you did more damage than I had presumed.
Day 6 : We could have been so much better together. I was ready to grow in love with you. I don’t understand how one can fear commitment or love itself so awfully. Am I the only one who felt the fire we make?
Day 7 : I found myself thinking of you with other girls. I feel sorry for them. You will look for me in every girl you come across. I am not replaceable. They will find pieces of me left behind inside of you along their attempts to love you, they will keep bumping into me.
Day 8 : I talked to your brother today. He said you say I’m a warrior and you are happy I’ve moved on but really, I am weak. I could cry an entire ocean into existence and swim across it if that would bring you back into my life. I am not without you.
Day 9 : I laughed without you today.
Day 10 : when I woke up, you weren’t the first thing on my mind. I fell asleep on my mother’s lap.
Day 11 : I stopped wearing your t-shirt to bed.
Day 12 : maybe I love me more than I think I love you.
Day 13 : I spent the whole day in your t-shirt listening to our favourite album and cried whenever our favourite parts played. I’ve forgotten how your touch feels but your scent still quivers up my nostrils when I hold onto myself for long enough.
Day 14 : Maybe we will meet again next life time. Maybe it will work out next life time. Maybe I should get out of bed, take off your shirt, take a shower and have a warm meal. Maybe I will lay here in the dark until you return.
Day 15 : I remember the night you kissed my neck and carved “forever” on my left thigh with your finger tips.
Day 16 : I miss you quiet terribly.
Day 17 : How long does a human being go without food or water again?
Day 18 : I cry but the tears don’t come out anymore. I cry in silence. Mother begged me to have breakfast this morning. I asked for coffee instead. Two sugars, no milk. Just the way you like it.
Day 19 : My mind won’t let me rest. My mind is trying to find you. You promised me forever. I’m still here. Where are you now?
Day 20 : I finally got out of bed for a shower. I put your shirt back on. I cannot let it get washed. Too much of what I had with you has been washed away already.
Day 21 : I swept the piles of our memories together in a neat lump behind my heart. I’m expecting your visit...so i can tell you i did my time, Goodbye.

Have you had your soul hurt so bad that you felt like dying?

He said there is poetry within my soul
smooth,sweet, golden and jazzy with indigo undertones
And 7 shades of peace, love.
He said there is poetry beneath my skin, within my soul, where God reins. Crossing over..

What's the use of being happy if something comes along and ruins all the happiness?She doesn't deserve contentment. She will stop being happy and wait for all the stress and bad energy to creep in as usual. No happiness for her. It stops today.

“I don’t think heartbreak is a beautiful thing.
I don’t think not being able to sleep until 3 am is beautiful.
I don’t think changing multiple songs because it hurts too much to listen is beautiful.
I don’t think the pain that stains your cheek is art.
To me, heartbreak is something I would never wish upon my worst enemy. The act of being abandoned. Lost. Still haunted by a ghost that is long gone. Heartbreak is not beautiful nor art. Heartbreak are the needles puncturing you, making it impossible to forget

“She will sleep
with her heart strings
knotted and forgotten
on the bedroom floor
while he will lay awake
wishing he had
used his hands
instead of a knife”

“i can feel autumn in the air tonight, and as always , my lungs feel so heavy. the trees are turning color, and i am turning pages. a new chapter begins for me. i can’t help but feel better when the wind is cooler, when the sky is grayer. this season matches my soul. all rusted, where the living goes to die, where the old washes away in the rain. a place where dead looks so pretty, where it’s okay to fall away from what keeps you elevated. i breathe better, the air isn’t thick around me, suffocating the soul that lives in this body. gloomy never looked so beautiful, and i secretly hope, someone will look past the dead pieces of who i once was. the remnants i carry in my pockets, and on my smile. i hope they can see the beauty i offer. despite the dying soul i may have.”

Here’s to the security guards who maybe had a degree in another land.
Here’s to the manicurist who had to leave her family to come here, painting the nails, scrubbing the feet of strangers.
Here’s to the janitors who don’t even ******* understand English yet work hard despite it all.
Here’s to the fast food workers who work hard to see their family smile.
Here’s to the laundry man downtown who told me with the sparkle in his eyes how he was an engineer in Peru.
Here’s to the bus driver, the grey haired angel who almost danced when I quoted Nelson Mandela.
Here’s to the harvesters who live in fear of being deported for coming here to open the road for their future generation.
Here’s to the foreigners here to make ends meet..Here is to them waking up at 4am, calling home to hear the voices of their loved ones. Here is to their children, to the children who despite it all become artists, writers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, activists and rebels.
Here’s to our patriots. For never forgetting home. Here’s to their children who carry the heartbeats of their motherland and even in sleep, speak with pride about their fathers. Keep on...

Hoping for a miracle yet fearing for the worst.

You’re growing; I can see it. I can see
you’re okay with not being okay and it’s
beautiful.

“I can’t speak my mind. But I can write it well enough.”

I am a Ghanaian girl born on Basotho land. I ask you why my relatives know how to speak Twi and I don't, it was then when I was aware of the decision you had made to keep me away. My family has been filled with Ghanaians who can speak their native tongue but you made me the only different. When it's all set and done I do not know my native tongue. The truth is my I'm filled with Basotho air rather than the identity of Ghanaian princess. I was born to you as a citizen. I am trying to join them but I am stuck. Also, I wonder, who am I?I haven't come to a conclusion. I am forever shopping for a new identity. So I am an actor, I did Drama in high school and usually I have my props on stage but in this poem all my props are gone. I'm just revealed with nothing to hide asking myself who am I?I could say I am diverse but then again I think not. It's sad how I can't even pronounce my own name.

“If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad.”

My thoughts are jumbled, lost in a haze. All I can do is look forward without fear. Wishing I could travel back and hit reset. But the past is gone and we are here. I cherish those days, man do they go quick. Just yesterday it was 2012 when we were in S2 and now we in S5 saying bye.

I have to keep reminding myself
My worst days in recovery are better than my best days in relapse
Because perhaps
When the voices in my head
Won’t let me go to bed
I still make the choice to wake up in the morning...

“I hope there are days when you fall in love with being alive.”

now close your eyes,
and please understand
that you are still young,
and the universe is endless,
and somehow,
everything will be okay

Holidays always hurt, I know. The
bandages on your wounds always seem to fall away this time of year. Let the wounds air, it’ll do those you love good to see how they’ve changed. How you’ve changed.

I was initially attracted to him depth of feeling.
Even her pain I found appealing

“I write because there is a fire inside me that only ink can put out.”

I am in love with letters and the words they create.

“Introverts, man. We’re weird sometimes. Like, “I love you, but I need to go over here by myself right now.”

“I spoke about everything,
My heart did,
My voice, the bearer of my symphony,
The continuous hum of purity,
My heart said,
The words that I spoke,
And in my misery, I spoke about everything,
From the darkness in the corners,
Those shadows that pricked at my neck,
The trees that were too tall,
Or too short,
And the rain,
Too heavy or tickling my skin,
Or if it was the sunshine,
Too bright, or never enough,
I spoke of the ones I loved,
Too much, or too little,
I spoke of the ones I loved,
Too many, or too few.
I spoke, to the one I loved,
I spoke,
Too much, too little

later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt? it answered everywhere
everywhere

“The point about hope is that it is something that occurs in very dark moments. It is like a flame in the darkness; it isn’t like a confidence and a promise.”

Its time to leave your sword in it’s sheath and walk to the battlefield to make peace, because this war you are raging against isn’t hurting them half as much as it’s hurting you

I am frightened to hear about your twisted ways. Each occasion I am encircled by you and think to how naïve I had been. I pray every night for God to forgive you for your sins and to give me the strength to fix this fiasco of an equation which is yet to be solved.  I had no idea your edges were rough to me, you were pure. I've got a volcanic eruption going on in my chest, wrapped with a soul that wants to be laid to rest filled with content. My illusion of who you were  was shattered by the truth of who you are so hopefully, probably you will look me in the face, whisper those words of accuracy and veracity.

I wait for my mother to go to bed
Its two am and I am sleeping in the living room yet again
I stay up all night
And close my eyes as I inhale even more smoke, as I try to **** myself even more”

There are always going to be talents that you want to have, looks that you prefer over yours, intelligence that you crave, and people that are beyond your grasps. Life will never fall perfectly in your hands and you will never be the ideal person that you imagine in your head. There is always going to be somebody else who you wish you were. But you don’t need all those things to be a good person. You don’t need to know how to deliver prose like melodies or how to write words into stories to realize that kindness is one of the few things you can learn to control. You don’t need to look like supermodels or Photoshop masterpieces to appreciate the fact that no matter your appearance, who you are inside is what counts. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to understand that compassion goes a long way and you don’t need to have hundreds of friends to know that it’s more important for you just to be one. There are so many things that we wish we could change about ourselves but in the end, none of it will make much of a difference if we cannot say that we are proud of who we are within.
— “Not everyone can be a supermodel but everyone can be a role model

They can make the chemicals for love in a lab. I know. I’m sick of hearing how unspecial it is that I exist alive with passion.
Listen. The world around me is howling and the moon is sick with our worries. We are all in a flood that wants us to sink without screaming. There is nothing in my pocket but debt and shadows and the teeth that have been knocked out of me. There is nothing in my future but cubicles and temp agencies.
Let us have love. This generation is dying. We are sweating out the innocence we were supposed to grow up in. We are all stumbling around with our hearts pounding in desperate fire alarms. We are all smothered. Let us have love.
Let us love each other wildly with our pictures of girls laughing in the passenger seat. Let us hold onto the images of our friends on the beach with sandy knees, of bonfires, of blurry drunken singing, of stopping for shakes and slurping them over bridges, of a shy look over one shoulder, of the sun setting, of selfies that show: I’m alive right now. I’m happy. Let us keep that. Let us keep proof that we are happy.
Love can be made in a lab. “Let that sink in,” he tells me. I say, “I knew that already.” So can basically anything. I want to stop questioning myself. I want to love so wide it breaks your measuring systems. I want to love her until she shakes, I want to touch him until it breaks me. I want to stop the cynics in their tracks. Everything is already so sad.
Can’t you see? Science doesn’t make this boring. Science makes this amazing. Everything that’s dancing in my head when I think of the people I love - it’s so real that they can read it in chemistry. It’s not just fantasy. It means I feel it to the very cells of me.
Let us have love. Let us have our dopamine, our seratonin, our oxytocin. We are surrounded by poison. Give us our delicate balance. Give us something we can believe.
”
— Love is scientifically explainable. That doesn’t mean it’s not amazing

I am too shy to tell you how I feel so I'll hide behind my poetic thoughts and soft smile. I am afraid to ask you "why eight?".     Your reply might a heart attack followed by death.  I am so desperate to eradicate these thoughts that never go away.  I've spent hours contemplating the words to say to you but no combination of alphabet letters could ever explain how the news I heard teared my skin apart.  Gradually my soul started slipping away.

“Loneliness is black coffee and late-night television; solitude is herb tea and soft music. Solitude, quality solitude, is an assertion of self-worth, because only in the stillness can we hear the truth of our own unique voices

Turned lonely into solitary confinement and apathy into a ******* contest.

I am losing. What?Myself.

I need direction. I just don't know anymore. I don't understand where I am going in life and I feel confused. Lord give me strength for I am lost. Let there be light at the end of this tunnel. I trust and know you got this. I won't feel like this for long. I'm down and out but I know you have a plan and you are up to something good in store for me.

Girl, you know you're lost. Lost in it all.

“I found God in the cracks between the tiles
of my bathroom wall,
as I puked my guts and
my melancholy
into the toilet.
I lost God for the first time
in my first love’s eyes,
the way the unearthly brown flecks
of his eyes caught the fluorescent lights.
I lost God in the way
I swore to love him for the rest of my life,
and in the way the “I love you”s soon
turned into nothing but fragile syllables to break
the uncomfortable silence.
I found God in he hastily wrapped cigarette paper,
but He only lasted before
specks of withered ashes
could hit the ground.
I lost God in the bottom of
the pill bottle,
and at the threshold of the tub,
where my toes lingered to touch
the steaming hot water,
where I sat for hours on end,
staring at my reflection,
begging him to stop me…
begging him to be real.
I lost God in the midst of the
soft music,
my hands on a girl’s waist,
my eyes devouring her.
In my head she was God,
the most divine, exquisite immortal
(I made her immortal,
for I had put down on paper the way
her body moves beneath mine).
I think God was calling for me,
telling me to snap out of it.
But everything else
was too vivid for me
to hear.
I found Him in the blood
under my fingernails
after heated nights where
I was too frail to dial
my best friend’s phone number.
But I washed my hands,
and he was gone again.
I evaded God
in the bends of her body,
the bends of her smile,
the bend of her tranquil manner
when I told her
that I loved her.
I have lost and I have found God
in all the places I have been told
he would usually avoid.
The back of a car with a boy
whose lips were venomous,
the cramped bathroom
where I rashly thought
to end my life,
and in body of a girl
who still cannot love me back.
I think that even after all this time,
even after the vile, decadent side of me
still denies Him a space in my heart,
another part of me still hopes He’s real.
A part of me still hopes He’ll save me.”
— this is how I lost and found and lost god again

"Make-up, a content originally made to compliment a woman now corrupts her connection to a man's conception of what quality content is..."

I hate how I am one of those people who work hard and gets mediocre marks. I absolutely loathe it. I am sad and devastated.  My soul is slipping away.

“If you could feel the way my hands
shake when I write your name,
you would know how much you
mean to me and you would see
how much of my blood runs through
my veins for the sole purpose of
keeping you in existence because when
you are written across the pages
of my notebooks, it feels like you’re
still here, it feels like you could
never die– but my hands,
my shaking hands– they’re enough
evidence to show you’re no longer alive

I can hear it, can you?
The voice in my head that says; let’s just have one, maybe two
Try as I might, fight, fight, fight
I always give in to the craving
Straight down to the pub, I feel a little strange
I feel dazed, and confused, why am I here?
I feel guilt and I feel shame
It’s not going to happen again
I’ll never touch another drop, after this shot
Last hangover was death
I felt I would die
I felt anxious, I felt crazed
I felt like running away
Why did I drink until dawn the next day?
Now I remember the day I got drunk
It felt like a calling, a job to be done
you’ll drink until you’re happy, don’t answer back
and so I obeyed, until my whole world went black
And here I am again, preparing to drink
standing in line, waiting for service
anticipation, my heart races faster
I know it’s not good, but I just can’t help it
The thought of the sweet liquid, warming my heart
the laughter I’ll share, the fun I will have
then I hear the voice, urging me on
let’s just have one drink; it’s nice to feel nice
No! I hear you this time
It’s over, my friend
I see you this time
You are me, but I am not you
I grab my coat and head for the door

“There is no normal
There is no okay
But there’s a kind of normal
And a kind of okay
That makes everything berable”

Not happy, not sad just present.

“I’m not going to give you the world because you have your own. I’m not going to show you how beautiful is the mess that your mind was made of because you know. I’m only going to share my world with you and you can make home of it so I can get lost in yours.

I let numbness wash over me
Again
And again
And again
Because being numb is so much better than feeling a **** thing.

My cousin and I get hammered
It’s his mother’s funeral and we sit around the fire, drinking horrible mixes from red solo cups
He tells me he does ******* and acid
I tell him I take Adderall and pain killers
We are both just trying to numb the pain from everything we would never quite get to do.

My cousin and I get hammered
It’s his mother’s funeral and we sit around the fire, drinking horrible mixes from red solo cups
He tells me he does ******* and acid
I tell him I take Adderall and pain killers
We are both just trying to numb the pain from everything we would never quite get to do”

One day my hands will settle inside themselves.
I feel most free in the dark where there are dozens of bodies
and no one knows me. I’m trying to text this boy
but my nails are wet with paint. When scientists tell me
there is the possibility of another universe I think yes
and I am better in it. I want fresh flowers on every table
and for tomorrow to be a gentler crime scene. My twenties
are teaching me that no one is ever as busy as they say they are.
Like, honestly, where you going with all that debt, honey?
I don’t know how to describe my kind of loneliness.
Maybe open wound, maybe stepping into a dress
with a broken zipper. I wish my lips weren’t dry for attention
I wish I was tough and hard like men. I know exactly
what you mean when you say you can’t wait to get out of here
but you're here now because money because god or fate
or whatever. Sometimes I just want to say what I actually
******* mean. For someone who thinks she knows it all
I say I don’t know a lot to save my own ***. Am I crying
on this bus right now or is that just the sun. I go
an even darker shade of brown. I go and hide the body
which is really just my body. My friends say self-sabotage
and I say honest. During the quietest hour, it rains.
My heart is full. J pulls up in his car. I am lucky
and the night is behind us, laughing.
— Girl, Why Your Heart Leaking Like That?