Bundled in blankets
my skin is cold
Closing my eyes
your smile is warm
Summer heat beams down, angry and punishing,
brutal light blinds me as my shoulders burn.
My nose and cheeks are freckled, ancient specks once lost to childhood memories of swim team and sprinklers.
The belligerently blue current reflects the shrieks and the smiles of countless kids, bittersweet as the memory of you.
You who once laughed quietly, like happiness was a secret you kept from the world, shared only with me and the quiet house by the coast.
The ports, run down, molding and rotting while waves lapped at the thin shoreline, are an eerie mirror of your mind.
Now the chlorinated water only reminds me of your eyes, clear but still too far away to touch, distant but reaching, searching for my name, my face.
I will not visit again.
I will remember you as water, stretching on forever toward the horizon.
it's hard to hear the ones who hurt
who bow their heads,
keep their speech curt
it's harder yet to hear the ones
who smile wide
shine bright like sun
"saving sad souls isn't worth the sacrifice"
but what human hasn't hurt so heavily?
what person percieves perfection perpetually?
alliteration always appeals to an artist (me!) aching to avoid an antiquated approach. also! I always feel like my rhymes are cheesy and unsophisticated
needing to look up
because rock bottom has never been so close
because you can taste the dusty film that coats motivation
you are breathing the achingly sweet stench of giving up
needing to look up
because the light blinds you
from the same destructive melody that echoes constantly
a catchy chorus of crumbling conviction
trying to remember what optimism was like
anxiety is an elusive term.
"anxious for this performance"-
anxious isn't momentary,
anxious is a lifestyle.
anxiety is an elusive state
those who do not live in a bubble
do not understand the fear of living beyond it
those who do not feel that compulsion
precisely where they are
to rest until they can move
to never be able to move
to suffocate beneath
their best friends, the bedsheets.
anxiety is an elusive idea.
every time it feels as though it is tangible,
every time it feels as though you could simply grab it
and rip to shreds,
every single ******* time,
exactly how you do.
running from anxiety is impossible
because you can never be as elusive as anxiety.
It doesn’t matter if smiles or tears paint your face
So long as the numbers say what They want them to say
The transcript, the scores, the resume
Only numbers can tell what a person is worth
Only numbers can tell what a person has paid
A document will never list the price of pain
Will never notice when time has taken its toll
Will never notice the humanity of feeling
The humanity of breaking down
The humanity of mistakes
Until you are crushed
With the weight
Of Their heavy stares
In the meaninglessness
In the worthlessness
Of that numberlessness.
I’m addicted to suffering
The hormones that flood my systems
Pushing until it’s too late
Until I’ve failed again
I’m addicted to the rise
And once I reach the top
I have to fall to feel that glory
I have to fall to feel
I have to fall
Trying to smile while it doesn’t falter
Drooping at the corners, where the temptation is too strong
And the hopelessness is too heavy
False laughs make friends leave
Isolated by my own heartlessness,
A dull beat pumping,
dragging me through the day
Wind lifting my spirit momentarily
before I spiral back
into the inevitable tug of my habits