I submerge myself
In the unreal.
I breathe it in
Pretending it’s air.

It fills my nose
My mouth
My lungs.
Too lost in ecstasy
To know I’m drowning.

And when I break
The surface
It sends pins and needles
Through my brain.

So I sink back
Slowly, just slowly
Letting it envelop me
The descent, a deadly comfort.

Standing in the middle of nowhere
I remember that at the end of this dusty road, there are poor lights flickering
resembles my insides because of old times
(Oh! why is it still lingering?)
Spelling 'I knew it! They're lying!'
Using cryptograms as dancing lights to disguise the warning

And now i'm back in this alley
When did these things started bleeding the royal color?
backwards, i'm walking in roses and rubies and crimson reds from myself and really?
what's with these shattered glasses?
I think it's lousy to hide the lilacs and blue tulips within

Violets and blues are not blurring my views
It's like the red and green of my worlds i made up for years
these places are soft like the grasses where you lay down after a pouring rain
and a pavement where you sit after the april sun shines on it
I'm lost in the the way it could go back and forth

And behind these places is where i'm really a part of
is a fever dream even with the daylights on
A forest that is made with hollywood signs
Hazy, defeaning, pretentious but real
A storm in mid-september that is going on for years

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

I want to be wild
I want to be tame
I want to break something, without taking the blame

I want to stay in my room
I want to be less alone
I want to go travel, without leaving home

I want to play by the rules
I want to start cheating
I want to get rest, without ever sleeping

I want to be drunk
I want to be sober
I want to grow up, without getting older

I want to keep it together
I want to keep crying
I want to be obedient, without really complying

I want to stay silent
I want to be heard
I want someone to talk to, without speaking a word

I want to starve myself
I want to keep eating
I want to be acquainted, without ever meeting

I want to stay single
I want to be married
I want to be in the ground, without being buried

I want to be feared
I want to be loved
I want to cut myself, without cleaning up blood

I want to get better
I want to stay ill
I want to stop hurting, without taking the pills

I want to be noticed
I want to be see-through
I want to want life, I don’t want to need to

I want to keep living
I want to just die
I want to say “hello”, without saying “goodbye”.

When I grew out of my adolescence
I lost my crippling thrist to write

I stopped cutting myself in my early 20's;
just like the research articles said I would

Disorder direction, however,
was not the cause of my coping correction

I moved away from rampant tantrums
Sliding down the ***** of sufferance


I used to write to externalize my internal desperation
My frustration with the life I was given
(Certainly not the choices I've made)

Over a decade of time has aged me
From a helpless girl, to an impassive woman
Submissive to circumstance

Now, I chain bricks to my ankles
And throw myself in the sea of apathy

I will not expend the energy to care,
but rather intentionally strive for indifference


In doing so, I sacrifice my desire to write…
Losing desperation makes me hollow

Then again, helplessness is for children.

I am a woman now.

I no longer crave the ability to describe my emotions
Asking for help is not a viable option anymore
I've tried that long enough

In a world where colours blend and break,
A boy with a kaleidoscope mind does wake.
He holds the lens of endless change,
Where truths shift softly, never strange.

Through fractured glass, the universe bends,
Stars turn to whispers, roads twist and end.
He watches the dance of thought and light,
A spectrum of dreams that paint the night.

Each turn reveals a thousand skies,
A thousand truths, a thousand lies.
He learns to trust what he cannot see,
The silent song of eternity.

In the patterns, his soul finds peace,
For in the chaos, there’s release.
The boy with eyes that dare to roam,
Finds in the unknown, his truest home.

And as he walks through worlds untold,
His heart beats with the colours bold,
For in the kaleidoscope’s embrace,
He knows he’s never out of place.