A deck, poorly illuminated by the moon up above, shining down and judging me. “Why are you even sad?” Moon asks me. I don’t respond to her. How could I answer that when I don’t even know myself?
The wood is old and creaky, and when I walked out here to sit on this old deck my steps filled the silent night, but the silence quickly followed when I stopped shuffling around. Like a shadow that was always near, the silence. It follows.
I closed my eyes and listened to the wind and crickets. No music, no laughter, just the sounds of the forest behind my old family home. Owls hooted, crickets sang, cicadas cried, and the moon judged. “What do you want?” I asked her, growing annoyed by her watching eyes.
“I just want to observe,” she whispered. “I am intrigued by human emotion.”
“There is nothing to feel intrigued by,” I explained, “It is only pain and grief.”
Moon just sighed at this. I sighed, too. “Untrue,” she started, “I have seen such fantastic emotion. I have seen love, happiness, tranquility-”
“Well you won’t find any of that here,” I cut her off.
She seemed annoyed at this point, like she was sick of my complaining. She looked down on me, but I’m sure she saw way more from up there than just me. “You are foolish for believing that.” She said finally.
“Believing what? The truth? Nothing of interest is-”
“Perhaps not yet.”
I paused at that. I realized she had a point, but I wasn’t sure if I believed in a future of great happiness. I wasn’t sure I believed that I would ever feel anything besides pain. Perhaps I didn’t believe in happy endings at all, but I couldn’t help but hope that she was right. Just a little bit.

I opened my eyes to a deserted highway. Sand was rearranged on the ground by the soft breeze, which caressed my cheek as it went by. The heat wasn’t too hot to bare, but it was enough to make me take off the jacket I always wore and tie it around my waist.

I hopped up on the tailgate of my rusty black truck and swung my feet back and forth. I cranked up the volume of the old radio and hummed along, leaning back and looking at the light blue sky.

A donkey cried to my right and birds cawed all around me. The donkey quieted down and wandered over next to the truck to simply stand there and observe and I sighed, taking a deep breath.

Birds sat calmly on the wires that trailed along the sides of the highway and a tumbleweed flowed by, taken along with the wind.

I came across a smell I was familiar with: Wet dog.

I sat up and looked at the ground of the highway, coming face-to-face with a panting wolf, who’s hair was matted with a mixture of sweat and blood. I stood up and slowly walked to the back door of my truck, making sure to be careful and not scare the wolf away.
I grabbed a pack of hotdogs that I was planning on saving for myself and brought them back to the wolf, the donkey watching both cautiously and curiously. I opened the pack and threw one into the air, the dog catching it with it’s mouth and chewing with it’s mouth wide open.

I glanced over to the donkey and held my hand out for it to come to. It didn’t, of course, but I wasn’t bothered by that. I enjoyed the company. I went back to the back door of my truck, less careful this time.

I got out a sack of apples that I had previously gotten from a store back in the town where I was from, though that town was nowhere to be seen. I brought the sack of the red fruits back to the donkey and laid them at his feet. “You got a name, buddy?”
He didn’t reply. I don’t know what I expected. “How about Jack? That’s cliche enough, right?” He kicked his feet as he chomped on the apples. It was a funny name for a donkey, and it was good enough, too.

I turned my attention back to the wolf. “How about you? You got a name?” The wolf whimpered and begged for more hotdogs, and I obliged, throwing them in his mouth as I did before. “Kato.”
My husky’s name was Kato, so I figured this would be a good way to honor him, in a way. “Your name is Kato.” Kato ignored me and chowed down on the hotdogs.

And I breathed, and I relaxed, and I felt okay. The song on the radio was that of great joy, and the breeze against my skin was oh so calming. Even the donkey cries didn’t bother me, nor the wolf whimpering, nor the eagles cawing. I paid no mind to the loudness of the scene, only to the calmingness of it.
But, like a snake chasing its own tail, I was bound to end up back to where I started.

Dec. 25
Today is the day I follow Shiloh. I quit my job at the bakery, and I gave the cash to a charity. I’m done here. I’m finished. There’s no ‘unfinished business.’
I’m ready.
I stand atop this bridge now. Hoping maybe you’ll listen. Understand why I did this. Not that you’ll care. We haven’t talked in years. But I have to tell someone, and you’re the only one I thought of.
I don’t want to be known as ‘selfish’ for this. I want people to understand. I can’t do this without him, you know?
So I won’t. I won’t do anything without him.
I think I need to die now because I know it’ll be better than this purgatory we call home.
Honestly, I don’t want to die.
I think I just don’t want to be alone.
And I sure as hell don’t want Shiloh to be alone, either.
The air is emptier without his laugh, and it is painful to sit here in this new silence and long for the music to start again, and for the disc to spin again, even if it means going round and round for many more years…
…for at least we would be moving, and Shiloh would be laughing here on Earth… And not only in Heaven.
But I am grateful that we loved him well. And that we miss him well.
But now, we grieve in silence. Yet, not without his presence.
I miss him so much. So, so much. It hurts. And I can’t hurt this much any longer. I’m sorry, I just can’t. I can’t take it. I wanted a romance, not a tragedy.
I just… Shiloh was so good at telling me what he wanted. He threw fits when he didn’t get the remote for the video game console when I died, he would jump on my shoulders and whine. I’d sigh and give it up.
He wasn’t great at showing me what he loved, though. He’d always hide or try to evade things when we got on the conversation of likes and dislikes.
I wonder… Who was I to him?
Kodes.
I’m Kodes.
He’d laugh with nana when she called me Buggy, though. I’m Kodes, but sometimes I’m Buggy.
As cheesy as it sounds, I really… I really thought I’d be alone for the rest of my life. But then he came along. I was on the ground at a playground when I was seven.
I had been pushed to the floor by a few kids from my school.
But I looked up, and I saw an angel. And he reached his hand out to me, and I took it. And this angel seemed to be the solution to everything. I never expected him to stay as long as he did. He even kept coming back after the first time he saw my dad.
So I kept hiding him in my closet.
And he kept coming back. He always came back.
Once, he tried to run away. I was the first person he ran to when he decided to come back. He ran to me and cried into my shoulder. And I didn’t mind the snot one bit. He always came back.
But he’s not coming back this time.
Umm… Also, just something I’ve been thinking about… Uh, call me crazy, but… I think he did it on purpose. I think he went in there knowing he was probably going to die, and he wanted that… Um... I think he was thinking, “Oh, look, a perfect chance!!” Like, a rescue mission with a side of suicide?? I don’t know, I’m probably overthinking it, it’s just…
I loved him. It was more than love. Beyond love. I went beyond and I lost it all.
I think that angel of mine has decided it’s time for him to go home. And it’s devastating, but I just hope things will be better for him up there. The love of my life. I just hope he finds peace.
I am so happy for him. I am. But I don’t think I’m ready to do this without him. And so, I won’t.
Anyways… you heard about my story. You heard about what I knew about Shiloh’s story. I’m done here.
Goodbye, Jennifer. I just want you to know it wasn’t your fault, okay?? Mom and dad were bad, alright? It’s not your fault. My dying wish is for you to stop blaming yourself to what happened to us. You’re young. You’re my little sister. You weren’t responsible for what they did.
You shouldn’t have felt obligated to care for me. No matter what, I’ll always be with you.
I love you, Jenny. Don’t miss me too much. You’re all grown up now!! You can do it without me, okay?
So… “Goodbye, cruel world,” and everything.
Sayonara, and I hope you might understand.
And I hope I’m not called selfish.
…even though I deserve it.
Oh!! I am donating everything you find that belonged to me, but you can’t take the rabbit. And you better not touch my copy of To **** a Mockingbird.  

Sincerely,
Your Best Big Brother
P.s. Do me a favor.
Don’t hold anything back. Don’t make the same mistake I did.
Moral of the story, and all.

Nevermind
My arms
It was my cat
Nevermind
My sleeves
I was using red paint
Nevermind
my tears
I have dust in my eye
Nevermind
my screams
I was just scared
Oh, these bandages?
Yeah, I fell..

Ouch, that stings,
but that's just the pain that your love brings.

I was cleaning my room
And I found another one
My parents had hidden every other one
But that one
I felt joyful
To hurt myself
after
too
long

I excitedly drew the fractured blade against my skin
So long without a tool to do this deed
Has done horrible things to my sanity
Like a drug, it draws me to it
And I use it,
get addicted,
No matter how much it hurts me,
and then go to rehab
or a mental hospital, as some would say
No matter
It feels great

My brother knows,
Though really, he will never understand.
I ask him if I pass,
If this binder does it.
He says, "not really,"
I just look down,
but then suddenly,
My thoughts start to stray.
I realize I'm not flat,
I realize I'm feminine
I realize too small
I realize I don't fit in them
Them being the category that is a male
Them being the jeans that I try despereately try to fit my waist in,
Them being society,
Them being normal.
I stand in front of a mirror 20 minutes a day looking at the small details that remind me I am "She"
I will always be "she"
I will never be "he"
Never.
And my mom knows that, so why should she bother trying to change it?
She says I have chosen a stupid name,
But it is not like I had any adult figure to help me pick it out,
So why is it my fault?
I wish I didn't feel like this,
But I do not have a choice.
Well...
this is not entirely true.
I could choose to not think too hard when people call me "She"
I could choose to not look in the mirror and call myself "She"
I could choose to understand that everyone knows me as "She"
And I could choose to move on
But I don't.
I told my mom, she said I'd grow up to regret it.
I gave her the statistics, but that wasn't enough.
She said "she"
She called me by my name,
No, not the name that I have chosen, the name she had chosen for me.
And I ignored it.
And I didn't say anything.
But it still makes me feel empty when I realize I have too many parts that make me a 'whole,'
3 parts I can't look at without feeling my eyes sting,
3 parts I can't wait to get off of me,
But that will never happen.
Because,
I will always be
"She."

The trauma specialist
you know, the one with the leopard print glasses
the neck that sags
the voice that cracks
the one who always has
fruit snacks
yeah
that one
the trauma specialist
is starting to call
The Moon a she
And that pleases me
The Moon's a she and she The Moon she pleases me and she's a she
She The Moon
She pleases me

She, who's life I'm curious about
The way she's always smiling
when people are around
And her smile brightens the whole room
I could see her smile from Mars
But she, who's life is tragic
Ignorance is bliss
I imagine her feeling nothing but happiness
I imagine her life at home is splended
Filled with love, hugs, affection
I imagine she's happy
And ignorance
is bliss.

I recognize that you need an idol,
but I am not that person.

Oh, poor thing
What have you done to yourself
I can see your arms
And I can see your ribs
And I can see
the dark circles
under your swollen eyes

“We’re so sorry.”
So that’s it, then. They’re ‘sorry.’
It’s not their fault, I know that. But still, I can’t help but feel angry.
Everything was about to change, but at least they’re ‘sorry.’

I sit in a tree,
observing
I see all and know all
Even the dark souls
of the lonely people
who trespass onto the land
of the loved

Texting
Singing
Ignore your phone ringing
Ruining me
Using me
Pretend you aren't abusing me
Overwhelming
Overtelling
Aimed at me you're always yelling
Sting me
Bring me
"Can I meet your family?"
You say no
go change your clothes
You're too ugly, adios.
Goodbye love
I am free of
Your mental sort of
Boxing glove.

Porcelain vase
Sitting atop
Your wobbly table
Good luck

"Just hang in there!"
No, that cat hanging onto that branch is about to fall
And we all know it's not gonna make it like that
But you're not supposed to teach us
The harsh realities about the world in school

"Be the change you wish to see in the world."
But geometry isn't gonna help me save the world
Nothing is
Because I'm a teenager... and you're expecting me to do what?!

"Learn something new today."
I learned a fun new name
That the students have been calling me all around school
That is a brand new thing I learned today

These inspirational posters
Aren't making me feel very inspired

Look me in the yees
You can't tell that I'm a guy
I got the body of a woman
And it makes me wanna die
It makes me want to scream
But I can't even breathe
When I'm lookin in the mirror
Staring at my chest
Wishing I didn't have *******
Man, I shouldn't have to hate my own flesh
Sometimes I cut myself
To see how much it bleeds
Sometimes I wonder what would happen
If I cut too deep
I really wanna die
I would do anything to be a guy
Lord knows I should've been born with a
Y chromosome
But nah I got double Xs, oh
I got the body of a girl
But I know I'm a boy
But even if you look me in the eyes
You can't tell I'm a guy
My smile's not the same
It's all fake
I was a mistake
I'll tell people what I am
And they'll tell me the verses
But I wish I wasn't trans
I don't do this on purpose
I wish I could've been born right
So I could look like a guy
And I wouldn't want to die
I wouldn't even try
I know I'm a guy
I know mt name is Elijah, not Eliza
I should have a flat chest instead of a ******
Whatever you say it can't hurt me
Because deep down inside
I know I'm a guy

He showed me his scars
Called it his art
He said that the drawing
Came from his heart
I wrote him a story,
He seemed to like it,
I told him my story
Came from my pit
He understood,
Said that it's fine,
I started his art
And he started mine.

The stale smell
of beer
and wasted lives

He broke up with his girlfriend, I think
"Darling, I miss you,"
Yeah, he broke up with his girlfriend
"But not enough to hurt"
He's getting over her
"And darling, I'm sorry,"
Ah, here it comes
"But now I love her"
Ouch

A sad life
To be the girlfriend
Of a guitarist who nees
Some money

But a fulfilling one
Nonetheless

The walls in here are light blue.
And they feel like they are drowning you,
And I feel like there’s nothing I can do.
To resist being taken under the current, too.
The ceilings in here are white,
And freckled with big lights,
And looking too long might cost you your sight.
The people in here are sad,
And the silence makes me mad,
But I know there’s no conversation,
Worthwhile to be had.

There are words written
On small sticky squares
Hung on my wall
None finished
just begging for me
To pick up my pen
And get back to work

God, I've spent so long trying to find the word to describe you
I have tried addictive, but that just wasn't true. Unlike a drug, I don't always have to come back. I could so easily stop... But I just don't want to.
I have tried beautiful, but that would belittle the facade that your pretty little face really is.
And god, you know I've tried wicked. But that is just simply not true. You are so **** amazing... and so **** horrible. But you are not wicked.
And, after all this time, I've found it. The perfect word.
Darling, you are
Intoxicating.

He told me to get in the car,
He wouldn't tell me where we're going.
We drove on a deserted highway,
Where there an abode was nowhere to be seen
His hand rested on my thigh
And the reflection of the sky
Was cast upon his sunglasses
And the orange glow of the sunset
Was making his golden hair
Turn a orange-ish shade
And my eyes
Turned a lovestruck blue
And I felt

...peaceful.

“Up, down…” She held her pen and moved her pen up and down right in front of my face. The point was to follow it with my eyes, similar to the way a lion would look at a zebra before pouncing. That pen angered me, so did the old lady’s bobbed black hair. Or the way her neck drooped practically to the floor. What’s the point of me looking at her leopard-print glasses? What’s the point of this pen? What’s this going to help?

“Okay,” she muttered, “That’s worrying…” I zoned out again. Crap. She held it back up again. This time, she moved it side to side. I followed it as best I could. My stomach stings. I haven’t eaten since lunch 3 days ago. She brought a big box of fruit snacks today. On the box it says, “Party Sized!!!” With 3 exclamation points, even though it wasn’t all that exciting. It was just me eating this “party sized” box of 40 fruit packets. She sighed and put the pen on the chocolate-stained desk. Did I do that? I should probably clean up better next time. Ugh, I hate this room. It smelled of old ketchup and perfume… Was that just her? She started talking to me. There is no window in this room. I cannot see the outside, which makes me anxious. But I won’t tell her that, because if I keep getting anxious over such small things, I’m going to be confined to this isolated room much longer than I have to.

“So, I’m going to put Zoloft on…” I don’t care what she’s about to diagnose me with. It doesn’t matter. “Ava?” I feel tired and my chest feels heavy. It’s MDD, dysthymia, PTSD, anxiety, the list goes on. I wish she didn’t keep piling meds on top of my regular diet of 2 potato crisps a day. “Earth to Ava?” God, I hate that name. It sounds sour on the tongue. Ava, Ava, blah blah blah. I hate it almost as much as I hate silver cars, and red trucks… And the smell of pancakes, which is weird because pancakes are my favorite breakfast food. Who ever heard of hating the smell of your favorite food? “Ava!!”

Oops. “Yeah?”

“What do you think?”

Crap. “About what?”

“Have you even been listening?”

I haven’t. “Of course.”

She starts to lecture me. How annoying. I scream at her to shut up, but only in my head. Lots of things go on in my head. I have learned to mostly ignore them… They talk too much. “Quiet,” I hissed at them (in my head), “I’m trying to work!!” All those missing assignments, all their doing. Nothing bad is my fault, right? Always blame it on my head. I could never express my feelings out loud. But I could put on a real good fake smile. She goes on and on about “not being able to help me if I don’t help myself.” So what? How is telling me what’s going on in my brain even helping me?

I hate therapy, I hate being tired…
I hate it here.

I do not love you, and you do not love me, either. I have stolen your first kiss, your spare time, and everything in between, but God forbid I ever take your heart.
I'm not good with hearts.

The chatter in the hospital always died down around this hour. In the quiet, Kody sat in a chair beside me and read to me. He foot was kicked up on my leg and he was slumping down in his chair. He always scolded me for doing that.
“Shoot all the blue jays you want if you can hit ‘em,” He read, “But remember…” I looked at my feet, which poked out from under the blanket in front of me. “It’s a sin to **** a mockingbird.”

Let's take this outside
Let's fight it out
Let's both end up
Bruised and ******
While a drunk crowd
Cheers us on

Let's take this to the stars
The world isn't ready
For this fight
And no drunk crowd
Is gonna be drunk enough
To think
That this isn't wrong

We grew up believing that no one would ever fall in love with us.
And so, to this day, I let people in too easily.
I let people do as they wish, make me hurt, make me cry...
All because I want people to be pleased with me.

Which is why on Monday, when the sky was crying,
She felt obligated to invite me to her house
And so, on Monday, I was crying,
Because I felt obligated to sneak off, quiet as a mouse.

I didn’t want to go
But I didn’t say no
Because if I said no,
Where would she go?

To this day, I believe in the moon
Because the moon is all I have
The moon is quiet, the moon is calm,
And, like me, the moon is sad.

I told the moon I hated her once,
In anger and in sadness,
And she understood
That my broken heart is like a cactus

I’ll let people in quickly,
And I’ll cry when they’re gone
I’ll cry when everyone leaves
Like when the moon leaves at dawn

But it happens,
It’s alright,
She’ll be back
Again tonight.

I cannot sleep
In a bed anymore
Because it reminds me
of his
His bed he forced me onto
His bed he was holding me down on
His bed that I was exposed in
I cannot sleep
and it
is
your
fault

I am doing my best,
Ignore what my teachers tell you
I am trying so very hard
Even though all I can manage
Is a C-
I am trying.
I really am.
I promise I am.
I'm not like you.
It takes me a week to finish a single assignment,
And I don't know why.

Why is reciprocation so difficult
You came up to me
With a homemade batch of chocolates
on February Fourteenth
You came up to me
With 3 words that would haunt me
You came up to me
And you were so nice
And I am so sorry
I couldn't
give
that
back.

Use me,
I don't care
I just want to have a use
Be it a replacement,
A backup,
or a coping mechanism,
use me.

Today in school, I learned a lot about supressing how I feel.
Don't cry, chin up, smile, or else teachers will start to be worried.
I even learned how to force a smile!!
Oh, mother, I am so glad that I learned this skill...
If one more person asked how I was, I would probably start to be angry,
But now I've learned how to pretend like I really am alright!
People will no longer care,
No one else will notice.
Today in school, I figured out how to pretend to be okay.

I have seen you behind the building
With the new person
And you tell me
You are not dating them
I have seen you
stick each others' tongues down
your guys' throats
but I'm sure you're just friends

I gave you my time
And I don't get that back
I gave you my life
And I didn't have much of that to give away in the first place
I gave you my love
And that is on a cooldown
I cannot use it for years after what you did to it
I have to fix it up first
I gave you my confidence
Now I am left with soft apologies and broken hellos
I gave you everything
And I don't get that back.

He asked me what is wrong with me, and this was my reply.
“It takes me weeks to finish an assignment, and I do not know why.”
I do not understand why all I seem to know how to do is cry,
I don’t even know why all I have the energy to do is think about how to die.
I don’t understand the way to love, like all those cool kids might,
And I do not have a plan for who I want to lay here by my side.
In a bed I’m trapped and in a bed I’ll forever be forced to reside
For walking tires me and I seem to have lost my confident stride.
You looked a little mad  when you asked me why I cried,
And all I said was, “You know what? I don’t even know why.”
I don’t have an answer to why I so badly want to die.
Because my life is good, this is something I cannot deny.
In school I am happy, I’m just a little shy,
But if you were me, wouldn’t you go about life with a sigh?
My life is average, I’ve barely suffered enough to earn the right to cry,
So all that’s left for me to do is ask the world “Why?”
I have lost all my young confidence, I’m not even close to being spry,
My mother said shut up, and I so sadly did comply.
My room has turned into a sort of depressing pigsty,
With monsters in the corner judging me, saying I’m the bad guy.
With mine a broken wing, I am a butterfly,
Unable to go about life without rules to abide by
Rules that tell me how high I’m allowed to fly,
Or what predators to avoid, they see me as a bull’s eye
So I am sorry if I have no answer as to why,
For I have no reason for you, I only have a lie.
“I am fine.”

I was ****** at the doctors. I’m angry at everything right now, but more than anything, I’m mad at him.
How dare he.
He broke so many promises yesterday. He promised he would stay here. He LIED to me!!! He said he wouldn’t do that ****** surgery!!
…
…We, uh… we had the um… funeral. For Shiloh. I just… No one… I was the only one there. Nana didn’t even come. What the hell?
Nobody shows up to your birthday, fine… but really? It’s a funeral!!
But… Somehow, I’m not surprised… because…
…The Peacock Effect: Who cares if you exist?

Projecting the blame
as long as it's not me
it's you, it's him, it's her, it's them.
It's just not me.
Because I cannot handle
messing up
one
more
time

"Why?" I asked him. "I'm not pretty, I'm not smart, I'm nothing."

I knocked on the door lightly. I obviously got no answer… I don’t know what I was expecting. I opened the door and squeezed in, shutting it just as quickly and quietly as I had opened it.
The room felt duller than usual… I couldn’t tell if it was because of the weather, the boring colors, or the aura of a patient waiting to die.
He was looking out the window. The weather was cold, and the skyline had been invisible, thanks to fog. It was rainy. People ran through the storm to their cars below us. The windows had been covered in rain, and all you could here was the steady beat of the heart monitor and the rain pouring outside. It smelled like hand sanitizer and lies. A shiver crawled down my spine just being in here for 5 seconds… I wonder what it has done to him for 5 months.
I hadn’t seen him for years. I wasn’t exactly ready for this confrontation, but it had to happen. I knew that. If I ever wanted to move on in my life, I had to see him again.
His brown hair was messy and fell over his eyes. The light from outside had a soft gray glow reflecting onto his pale face, making him look ghostlier than ever. His skinny, underweight arms were resting on his stomach, and his green eyes had a dark tint on the skin under them.
Seeing him like this just made it more obvious why he was here in the first place. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, he didn’t drink… he made himself sick. His bony fingers tapped on his hand anxiously. He turned to face me. His face looked dreary, and he looked sad in general. I gulped and widened my eyes, not ready for his icy stare when he looked like this.
He sighed and I relaxed my face, calmed down as soon as he wasn’t staring at me.
“Why are you here?” he asked me.

Why is it so impossible for me to get out of bed?
I am tired.
A tireness no amount of sleep could discard.
I know, I've tried.
There have been days where I went to sleep at 6 pm,
Woke up at 9 pm,
and then went back to sleep.
And I slept until 8 am.
But this is a bone-deep tiredness.
So, I stay in bed.
Sitting up in bed alone takes up all my energy,
So why should I get up?
My eyes burn and are swollen shut from the tears I shed last night,
This battle to stay alive
This battle against depression
Anxiety
My own mind
It is all to difficult,
And I don't have the energy to fight it.
I can't get out of bed.
I feel quite safe in this bed that my blankets have encased me in,
And I am not hungry...
At least not enough to get up and go get some food.
I just hate the 'outside world,'
Being in the car makes my stomach turn,
And the screaming of my stomach is so annoying.
If the car I was feeling ill in suddenly crashed,
I wouldn't mind.
I feel tired,
And alone,
And empty...
Always empty.
There's always something missing.
Answer me this:
If my poor old mother was sobbing on the phone, begging me to stay...
Begging me to suffer, in other words...
Would I really be around to care?
What's the point??
There.
That's it.
What's the point?
That's why I can't get out of bed.
I could be so **** motivated.
"Come on," I'd encourage myself, "We got this!! Get up!!"
And I'd sit up,
Sigh,
And immediately sit back down.
Because what IS the point?
So,
I'll lay in this bed of mine,
Held down by these blankets,
And I won't mind a single bit.
Because I'm rather fascinated by these nightmares,
And I'm not hungry...
At least, not enough to get up.

He slapped me
And it bruised
But honestly
I shouldn't have said that
I pushed him again
I shouldn't have tried to tell him to quit
Because fixing him isn't my job
I'm supposed to love him through everything
and I do
I do
The words that started it all
I do
But I didn't
Understand the situation
But now I do
And it's okay
He wasn't always like this
It's just the things
He chooses to consume
It's not a choice
It's an addiction
And besides
the makeups already done
And the bruise is already hidden
It's fine
We're fine
He's fine
This is fine

So many actions
Could do so much better
Than words or poems
that try
too
hard

I want to play music
But I have nothing to play
Worth listening to

Insert a word, letter, or phrase,
And then delete it just as quick.
God, all this writing stuff
Is starting to make me sick.
What words rhyme with vegetable?
Oh, I do not know…
I have no direction with this poem I wish to go.
With a swish of my wrist
And a flick of my hand
Boom! I’ve made a poem…
That nobody can stand.
Make it, erase it,
God what is the difference
It’s simply not as good
As those with a planned sequence