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
distracts you
from the same destructive melody that echoes constantly
a catchy chorus of crumbling conviction

looking up
trying to remember what optimism was like

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
Repeated mistakes
Repeated excuses
Repeated words
All meaningless
Until you are crushed
With the weight
Of Their heavy stares
Disapproving
Disappointed
In the meaninglessness
In the worthlessness
Of that numberlessness.

moment wrapped in ribbons of silk
twirling and swirling in circles
amaranthine

driving at night, sky blackened
windows like vacuums
******* in the smoky winter air

wheels grinding, rolling against the lopsided asphalt
crushing rocks with every bounce
driving,
no location
only hands gripping the wheel
and pressure on the acceleration

driving down silky ribbons of rocky asphalt
driving
no location
only hands gripping the wheel
only pressure on the acceleration
only you holding tight
grabbing life by the neck

sitting in a box
only going where someone else takes you
is empty
so grab every moment
wrapped in ribbons of silk
twirling and swirling in circles
amaranthine
savor the bittersweet memory while it lasts

ripped and torn from its place in the neurons
in the brain
stored in the depths of the ocean
the ocean of memories abandoned
lapping against the vacant shore
sky blackened, windows like vacuums,
******* in sand, summoning dust
spiraling piles crowding out a smooth smile

driving through amaranthine moments
widening eyes
moments wrapped in bittersweet anticipation

Your smile
Lightning across every nerve
sizzling through every vein
headed straight to my heart.

My eyes
Darting away quickly
crossing over tiled floors
landing outside the window.

A headache blooms with my blush
and it's suddenly too much.

Shame I couldn't bring myself to smile back.

I cloak my conditions in colloquial
Decode my demeanor, I dare you.
There’s no definition to be found.

I am the same as the others
Too different and you’re strange
And hidden feels happier than strange.

I'd say something if I felt like it
but depression seems to take feeling
and wrinkle it into *****
crumpled and crushed
compacted closer than the papers piling around me
as I delete drafts
dramatically demanding a **** word
to hold meaning it never could.

Sometimes, words are nothing.
Because when they are everything,
I can't bring myself to say anything
so they might as well be nothing.

Every time I try to tell someone,
Anyone,
It comes rushing through my eyes instead
Let me paint you a picture,
A self-portrait from painful pastels
And punishing paints

Living in a lonely world,
In my lonely mind,
It gets tiring.

I wish someone could see past my fronts.
Look at me;
See a real person,
And not the mask I wear

I know I could take it off
I should
I would
I can't

It's my only defense.

Because if they don't like my mask, it's fake.
But if they hate me, it's too real.

And every time I try to tell you,
It comes pouring from my eyes instead.

Let me wear these sarcastic stripes
and austere arches.
My sorrowful scene.  

This picture isn't pretty-
far from perfect.
But it is me.

And so she sat there,
smiling quietly,
watching the sun set fire
to the bright green trees,
feeling the window warm against her head,
as frizzy hair brushed her shoulders.
Music flowed through her earbuds,
the scent of orange bloomed
in the gently chattering bus.
Fridays couldn't be better,
and life was beautiful.
Too bad she'd have to leave it behind.

Screeching stung the lovely afternoon,
spinning, and spinning, and spinning.
A cocktail of chemicals rushing,
flushing out the floating happiness.

Black, and tears, and tragedy.
The most beautiful of souls had to pass before all others.