I haven't yet
figured out
how to put into words
what it feels like
to be trapped in my own head.
I fear that's a fate worse than death.
My whole life
everything--
every single emotional pang--
has flowed from me;
through my pen,
on to paper.
Just like that:
A balloon of troubles
released into air.
Well I've been silent
too long now.
My emotional drain,
clogged,
without a single bottle
of Drain-O left on any
of the Superstore shelves.
I'm in the unforgiving chokehold
of Depression.
With a capital D.
"Write your feelings down,"
my counselor says to me.
"writing can be therapeutic."
I know, Doc.
Which is why I'm here
on this double stuffed couch,
instead of in the safety
of my apartment
with my ink filled sword
and leather bound shield.
No thesaurus can aid me.
Merriam Webster is at a loss for words.
What is a poet without poetry?
I'm as useless
as the g
in lasagna.
Scars line my wrist;
Feeble attempts
of liberating the feelings
by placing them saddleback
on droplets of blood.
Keeping an open mind
is hardest when
your mind is the vault
sealed away
in your Fort Knox skull.
The pill popping lethargy.
This rainy day sadness.
Somewhere inside me
a little poet waits out the storm.

Can
     I sleep beneath the willows in the garden
     In the shade of weeping eaves
You
     Planted deep in soft mulch
     above the hallowed canary grave?
Breathe
     Out  the eerie recollections of
     a marrow chilling orchestra
In
     the confines of
     the white wicker cage.
Song
     I cannot hear
     but I taste in the sap of the willow
As
     it sobs softly
    on my heavy shoulders.
You
    spread a quilt out on the grass
    and whispered to the weeping branches
"Do
     you hear the canary  choir
     ringing through your roots?"
Oxygen
    expired from my lungs
    and I wailed a yellow-bird song.

How do you feel when the waves from the ocean come out to grab you in the water with them, and you cannot go? How do you feel when your old memories pull your soul to a place you miss, but do not remember? How do you feel when the words that live inside your mind eat away at your heart, yet you're even stronger? I want to see the way the moon light hits your face and still makes you look beautiful from every angle. I want to be the one to dust off the dirt that people throw at you, that you don't cry away, that makes you look beautiful anyway. How do you write your 'a' 's? I want to breathe in your scent every night before the dreams start. I want to keep a piece of your writing stapled to my wrist so I have a chance at being as eloquent as you always are. You never say 'sink or swim'; to you, sinking was never an option. How do you feel about your house number? What goes through your mind when you hear the word 'back'? What makes ''to delay is to lose.'' Your favourite quote? Why are blue jeans your favourite? Why do you always look up to the light but never down on the darkness? If I could be a star in the sky, the unlimited space beyond planets and moons still would be unable to answer
why
every
answer
from
you
creates
a tsunami
under
the depths
of this
earth.

Been a year since the blade touched her skin
Those white lines that remind her
How strong she has been.

She's been strong for a long time,
Why would she give up now?
She thought she can take it
But she spoke too soon
She couldn't.

Giving up
It was easy for her
But little did she knew
That everyone cared for her
She just can't see it.

I've spent half my time telling myself that you are a terrible person.
And with just a few sentences you've unlocked the chains around my heart.
The only thing keeping me from feeling what I once felt for you.
I find myself smiling, laughing
With you.
You caused me so much pain
So, so many tears.
The knots in my stomach I thought would never come unclenched.
But here I am laughing.
Betraying myself.
Breaking my own heart because it's fool me twice shame on me.
But if we're being honest, it's way past fool me twice.
More like fool me to the moon and back
Because that's the line that got me
To the moon and back
How romantic of you, to travel that far
Just for me
But we both know it was only pretty words
And the only reason you're here now is because even though we are as used to each other as the stars are the night sky,
I'm new.
We fell into the pattern of comfortable
And then we had our break
And the tears
And the silence
So the talking is new
The flirting is innocent, but oh so loaded
It's like a grenade, this fragile line we walk
One wrong word, one bold move and this pretty picture of happiness would be shattered
But I do love art
Especially the kind you and I make
The way we are together
How the tired sentences don't make sense, but neither of us will say goodnight.
Even now.
And maybe you're supposed to be there.
On my mind and in my life
Because I'm sure as hell not shaking you.

If I were to mindlessly meander the streets
That you told me were all in my thalamus, I
Would find the edge of Earth, devastated
And barren. Then I would contently sit on the
Brim and toss broken asphalt into the somber
Chasm and listen for echoes that remain absent.
I would welcome the silence into my
Lonesome and say, “Thank you for
Reminding me that this is all  my imagination.”

I used to count the hours until the moon awakened
and the stars blanketed the blackness of the sky.
I fought through the heaviness of my eyelids,
managing to stay awake long enough to answer your call.

My nights were encompassed in your stories, thoughts…laughter.
I was tainted with infatuation.
Every night I was wasted in your love,
and not once did it cross my mind that this was dangerous.

Now I loathe every passing hour of the day.
I kiss the sun goodnight, praying that it would return soon
so that I am not alone for long.
I now pray for my eyes to grow heavy,
knowing you would no longer call.

My nights are now encompassed in the ghosts
of your stories, thoughts…laughter.
I am tainted with loneliness;
wasted by your love.
The only thing in my mind
is that I should have known you were dangerous.