I just want to sleep why can't I forget about her already
I don't care about her lips or her arms around me anymore
Please, just let me go.
I talk to this mirror too much they think I'm crazy
I yell and scream at myself to just quit already
I'm so annoyed at this person who's only in my head
At these people who are only in my mind
At these ******* thoughts that only sound like an extremely angry swarm of bees at night.
I just want to be done with you.
I just want you to realize how much you hurt me.
How good I had it when I had you.
How quiet everything was because I could always look foreword to your texts.
How soft my bed was when the lingering feeling of the kiss you gave me that morning lulled me to sleep every night.
How much I've been arguing with myself because I don't agree with me.
I hate you so much but you just don't deserve it.
I want to love myself but I just, don't, deserve it.
I still check my phone every morning, 8 months later.
I still secretly hope I'll see you at the super market over by your house and you'll try to talk to me.
I still look at that picture you gave me and scoff like a disappointed father at a little league game.
I want so much for you, I want the best for you.
But I don't want to keep thinking that you were the best for me.

Marching through the streets chanting and hollering.
Waving evil flags and burning tiki torches.
Calling out for the death of many.
Not thinking about their own.
Anger, hatred, met with silence.
Stillness, steadfast.
Mace and truncheons meet faces and bodies.
Close quarter hate-to-hate combat.
Swastikas fly protected by sacred badges.
While voices of peace lay on the ground in hopes of a better tomorrow.
Peacefully we try and violently it fails.
The fight never won by one side or the other.
We can't share our living space.
We can't share our voice.
Coexist is a death sentence to those without weapons.
We sharpen our tongues and dull our blades to fight this war on our own neighbors and friends.
One day it will end.
We just don't know when.
The drums of war will quiet and give way to new peace.

Yes, I am trying
No, I have not made progress
You will still haunt me

You're not dying
What you held in your hand isn't there anymore
And that's okay
Everyone knows you're going to live
So you might as well start trying

Like this balloon, I'm filled with helium, as the things I love keep floating away

Smile
Wave
Pass
She came and went
Smile
Wave
Pass
She never really cared
Smile
Wave
Pass
She walks by you like any other stranger
Smile
Wave
Pass
You want to tell her so bad
Smile
Stop
Forget
Pass

Eat **** and die

Dear home,
I'm sorry I was too late.
I talked to dad, he's changed so much.
He's too different to remember you now.
I thought I'd find you on the other side but you weren't there.
I came back hoping I was wrong and you'd be here.
But you aren't.
You've been gone,and I had no idea.
I spent all that time looking for you.
When I should have been building a new home, new memories.
I should have moved on but you were so warm, so comforting.
I'll visit your grave whenever I find it.
I'll leave the photo albums and home videos for you.
Maybe if you watch them instead of me, you'll remember me like I did you.
Goodbye home,
Yours truly.

I have so much to say
But I don't want to tell anyone any of it.
I focus on hating myself so much that I'm sick of me.
I press pen to page in hopes of making some way to cope but the words dont flow like they use to.
Those pipes are rusted shut.
Clogged by to many thoughts of myself that came from my own sick head.
The ones that come from loving lips and caring smiles sit outside and freeze.
I want to write my pain into oblivion but it doesn't go willingly.
I could bleed my hands ripping up the rusted copper pipes and give myself a new outlook but the foundation is too thick too break through and I don't have a hammer strong enough to hit it with.
Steel pressed to concrete spelling out my words with smashing instead of ink on the page I set out to write on.
But the strokes of the hammer are quiet.
Because I'll never say any of it.

I don't have clarity anymore, it costs more than the 2.25 I have in my bank account.
The job I couldn't keep didn't burn to the ground so I don't have that going for me either.
I spend my nights not knowing how to say these things I'm feeling.
Then I spend my days screaming them at the mirror.
I have make funeral arrangements every time I lay down but I have to refund them because I keep waking up.
Maybe next time will be the time I get up and have the beautiful view of me still laying there.
Still.
Cold.
I'll fade away into the void of night and the corpses legs won't let it get up again.
They'll stay rooted to the ground as everyone weeps and mourns around it.
Mourns another fallen shard of glass fracturing into a miasma of hate and dissonance.
I'll get to watch myself get lowered into the ground as my mother is comforted by her remaining sons.
The corpse will lay still in the coffin.
The payment on the arrangements goes through and I don't get up the next morning.
Instead of all this I open my eyes.
I check the time.
And I try to die again for a few more hours.

When I starred myself down in the mirror and said
"I can't, it won't, it couldn't"
It felt wrong.

I see you in so many other things
Other people
Your face still smiling at me
Ready to take me into your arms.
But that isn't you.
That's not what you ever were.
Please go away.

She looked so beautiful without me next to her

I've spent a lot of time being told how to live but no one's actually told me HOW to live

Now I know that I'm bad.
Because I think you're so amazing.
So good.
So pure.
And I'm nothing like you.

The shovel I used to dig myself into these holes its strapped to my back.
It comes with me, haunting me whenever I meet someone.
Whenever there's a situation to dig in, you best believe it's digging.
For just once I want to break it down into metal and wood.
Make ladder rungs from a haft used to dig so many graves before.
A grappling hook made from a bent shovel blade no longer used to bury the hopeless but pull out the hopeful.
Every time I get here, I realize I'm back again, not for the first time, but a repeating pattern.
I'll break it someday.
Mark my words.
I won't be  back.