the atmosphere seems bleaker through the second story windows
on the first floor, there i scramble, breaking through the wake of the waves in my illusion crawling mind
creating a line of sea water from the teardrops that tumble onto my shaky hands
trudging through the unbeknownst woods,
seeing mini faces carved into tree logs
and then i collapse
over and over again.
every day feels like a shank in the veins
as if a phantom has taken the reins with its cold bony hands
and i am left to sit in the carriage of death
with Belonging, Happiness, Optimism, and Life itself.
do i look as stormy and gloomy as the earth through the second story windows of this prison?
i hope not.

you know i’ve tried to be worth something in the world to you.
my submitted requests reaching your inbox,
my rampant desires begging at your throne.
i have never liked cruel,
so i don’t understand why i still hold high hopes for you.
you must be so used to people discarding you
and leaving you out with the street rats and rabid animals,
but i; i am opening the door for you.
you can come in and take a seat and you can drink and eat whatever you want to,
i couldn’t care less.
i want you to make a home in my home.
i can **** myself for you if you give me a knife and the motivation.
i can twist and change myself for you if you admit that my façades are better than my actualities.
i can bleed myself dry if you adore the color red.
i can be at your beck and call every day and every minute and every second of the week.
i can admit that i’m a fake, i’m a fraud
when i write poems about your hold on me
i don’t understand you.
i don’t think i will ever understand you.
these hips of mine will be treasured if they have your printing on them.
do you know how hard it is to convince someone that they are the only resource you need?
impossible.
i’m constantly trying to fit the word count on my acceptance essay to you,
but i just can’t speak the language that you do.
and that might be a me problem,
but cut me some slack.
i just want you love,
send your adoration my way.

oh the lights illuminating on the course
make me feel dead inside
paralyzed emotionally
can’t wait to leave
the sky is a deep indigo
watching silly people enjoy silly stuff
pretending as if this isn’t a charade
just being, loving, and having fun
things that i can’t do anymore
i feel stale
as i look out over all the joyous faces
what’s the purpose to this world?
i can’t find it in the dirt that streaks the road
i can’t find it in friends i haven’t seen in forever
i can’t find it anywhere i willingly want to go
i can’t find it in the roar of engines
i can’t find it anywhere
but it’s not like i’ve been looking

when all the leaves fall and change
when the sunset gets sooner everyday
in that exact pale chilly darkness
that is where my heart rests
perhaps i have dreamed once before
i dreamed i would see a dinosaur
in real life, in real form
and maybe i dreamt big things for my future
i have watched the shower nozzle water cascade down me
like some kind of wanna-be hot spring
the leaves have turned brown alike my heart
and my lungs grow heavy and wet like the morning dew that falls
i imagine that if i was a painter i would sculpt myself in autumn
in a tiny little cottage
with smoke rising from the chimney
alone, in an opening of deciduous trees,
here the leaves fall softly and slowly
and my heart sinks quietly and slowly
underneath the sobbing trees

i’ve never known romantic love
but i know it doesn’t belong in backseats
with short skirts thrown onto the ***** floor.
it doesn’t belong in lips that only ever persuade.

it belongs somewhere ethereal
beyond the meadows and the maples and the marshes
across the solar system
in shiny stars glittering up above
in the shaded parts of your aching heart

that’s where true love rests

waiting for months to pass
and then, i’m blue
and am labeled ungrateful.
waiting for months to turn to dust
in my rusty palms
to set straight my wonky emotions
to soothe my ferocious oceans.
counting days till my cage is opened
reciting rhymes until i come back to life.
waiting for months to disappear
become marks on the calendar
can’t wait for this year to be over.
waiting for these months to stop dragging
my laden feet
upon the creaky floorboards
resisting the torture.
waiting for the months to surrender
to the year’s higher rule
succumb to the power.
waiting for these months to blow by
to relocate out of my eye view
to package up and leave.

i can’t endure these months anymore

i stabbed my demons with a double-edged sword
it punctured my skin as well
and with that blood, i wrote your name,
not in times new roman,
but in my own special font
i cried over the torn parts of my flesh
but we all grow out of our tears,
don’t we?
after i stabbed my demons with a double-edged sword,
they climbed up into my brain cavities
and they took more
than i ever self sabotaged out of me
i carried my fallen blood in the suitcase
i will bury myself alive in one day
my demons spill secrets instead of blood
from their dreary corpses
and i rapidly try to gather them
in my dismay
if you write them away, they just come back stronger
because words aren’t indelible,
they can be erased
if you try to make peace with them,
they take too much of you
and label it a treaty
when it is honestly just tyranny
call it by no other name
if you start a war,
they start a revolution
and soon they have the entire universe up against you,
and no matter what anyone says,
you can’t beat the universe
you aren’t the avengers
you can’t do any of these things
and expect them to dissipate
and dissolve into the snowfall
you have to take yourself out
with the weapon you chose to ****** them in cold blood with
you have to bestow a double-edged sword
and you have to willingly sacrifice your entire self and more
cause unlike seasons, demons never leave
unless you **** their host
here goes nothing

i’ve watched the same show for over two weeks
and when my favorite character was falling apart,
it put a damper on my mood.
i am that attached..
to fiction.
it wasn’t even real and i still cried in my bed
with my hair concealing my eyes.
i never like to think of myself as the most empathetic person out there,
it was a sudden jolt in my nature.
perhaps i see myself in his wild eyes,
not the wicked side,
but something in him that reflects in my heart.
i’m repulsed by my poetry.
i wouldn’t even consider it poetic in any way.
i tell my close friends that i write poetry
and i like to think that they scoff at that idea.
i told my retiring teacher that i wrote poetry
and she gave me her email.
what makes her think i’m good enough to be read throughly by an english teacher of forty years?
kinda ironic since i’m posting on a poetry website.
i’m embarrassed of my efforts,
ashamed of my achievements.
see, i’ve never been good at anything
i played basketball in middle school
and my friend would always say that i bombed a shot or i needed to do something more involving.
my past crush even said i was too short to play or something.
i tried being nice for a day because my sister and mother were telling me i was too mean,
i swear i’m not.
but i tried to be nice
and bad things still happened
and i called people rude names.
i’m not good at staying prompt to journaling
like tumblr girls at their highest.
catch my drift, i have never been good at anything,
and poetry is the only thing that makes me feel like i’m alive
who cares if it’s actually well written?
it’s self expression.
i hope everyone at least tries to write one poem once in their lifetime,
it changed my life.
step one: find a muse, trust me, if you have a good one, you might not even experience writers block
(that’s an overestimate, but sure)
step two: write about anything and everything.
write about your drive to work, how the highway signs started to feel like heartbeats because they were so repetitive.
write about your dreadful day at school and about the teacher who freaked out.
step three: find a metaphor in everything.
trust me, if you look hard enough, there’s always a metaphor.
step four: see yourself in other people. capture the conversation the bus passengers had. write from different perspectives;
you’ll learn a lot about empathy.
step five: don’t listen to my advice because i’m not qualified.
don’t listen to the writer of bad poems.
there’s no use in fearing rejection,
i get rejected by myself on the daily.
you’ll never be something to someone if you don’t just say it.
tell them you like them.
tell them they make your world glimmer
and they make bad days a little more bearable.
and if they shrug, it’s ok, souls don’t have the same meaning to everyone
and that’s beautiful.
you’ll live.
rejection is inevitable.
when i’m invested in a show or a person, it becomes my obsession.
when i lie awake at night, i’m wondering what will happen next,
what character is going to get killed off next.
i want my poems to be lengthier and
luckily i can rant like nobody’s business.
i feel less anxious when i throw my feelings onto paper,
and i think things through.
no need to have to suffer through all your chaotic thoughts alone.
write.
that’s advice to me.
write when your favorite character is stressed,
write when you feel peeping eyes on your back.
write when the world churns you out of shape like butter.
write when the music doesn’t seem to calm your inner self.
the world can be wrong,
that’s a possibility.
you are allowed to critique it,
you are allowed to believe in miracles
and you are allowed to ask God if you can’t conjure up an answer all by yourself.
that’s why they say He’s always listening.
they lie about lots of other things,
but definitely not that.
writing is not for everyone,
it picks its candidates with reasoning.
i guess i was chosen
and i won’t let my muses down.
they live inside of my heart even when i wanna tear them out.
i won’t send my poetry to my old teacher,
and i won’t live another day without the benefits of writing.
i still have two more seasons to binge watch of this show
and more and more reasons to be alive.
the world is wrong,
but i never said i was right.
i have no vendettas
and writing has infiltrated my mind.
no tickets are accepted at admission.
come another time.

the sky gets darker earlier this time of year
my heart grows weeds
and becomes as hostile as an abusive man
exiting a pub
i lose all the strength i built up
and all my protecting walls collapse
instead of breaking free i break down
in my room, silently, with only the echoes of my pain surrounding me
my parents say it’ll all be fine,
but if it was that simple, why wouldn’t i try to lessen the blow?
why would i wanna be stuck with voices
ringing in my head like noisy sirens?

i pray noticeably more when the sun dies sooner
i know it’s a bad habit,
only pray when things aren’t going well,
i’m so sorry,
i wish i was a better disciple, a better woman with stronger feet holding her up

my bedtimes get earlier,
but i fall asleep much slower
noticeably slower
the stars don’t remain beacons of hope, 
they are fireballs bursting,
relishing in my devastation

time drags on in this time of year
my knees fold under pressure
my lungs shrivel up
my brain turns into a non-thinking zone
and i can’t escape the neurons packed deep into my radioactive mind
i can’t rid of my involvement in that sabotage

i pray and i pray and i pray
noticeably more this time of year
they get answered, but some of them are just too extreme
i don’t blame a soul
only the lost energy lodged into my wild mind
(and see, i can’t even think, i can’t breathe this time of year)

i’m never prepared
for this time of year
the summer air losing its warmth
the autumn chill filling my throat

i drowned many years ago
i still lurk in the water
and sometimes when i get full of myself
i grab feet and legs and drag them under with me
so they can feel the exact pain i did
when i lost my last breath
around this time last year

you crumbled in my hands like flimsy bricks on lazy made housing developments
tumbling like rocks on sides of cliffs
dull guilty eyes stared back at me
black circles gazing presumptuously
at my porcelain skin
we were not bad people
we were just victims to cruel assumption
you took the brunt of the dazed collusion
and they stole me from you
as the spaceships coughed up fumes
capable of killing a single man
in under five seconds
we all cry the same tears when we hear the world is coming to a close
we travel to tiny towns where our families are stationed
and we weep in each other’s arms
because all our tears are made up of saltwater
none are fresher than another  
none are clearer
none are holier
i danced with you as the world was bombed to ashes
and minimized to dust particles
but you broke out of my embrace
and shot me in the head instead
the darkness poured out of your grim eyelids
and into my soul
i choked on my own rotten blood
feeling fire slither up next to my paralyzed body

you lit all the corners of the rooms
with candles
now they’re burning
burning the wax all the way down to the bottom
this time,
i’m not dancing,
i’m burning alive

forever is a crueler way of saying never

the old school i went to was filled with the best, worst, and funniest memories. i only talk to four of my friends from that old school; i don’t really ever talk to two of them, but i have texted them. it doesn’t really matter. there’s so many people that have come and gone that i’m not even phased anymore.

1. dear s, you. oh, you. you were a strange soul, but i always remember respecting you. my other classmates said you were really weird. you peeped over stalls and you loved this one kid, (i’ll get to him later) you got so sad when you had to leave in kindergarten. i missed you back then, i don’t miss you now. i barely remember you anyway.

2. dear t, so.. you were technically my first kiss. i chased you around on the tar playground thingy and i kissed your cheek right before the teachers rang their end of recess bell. you were my first love, i like to claim jokingly. i played some foolish kindergartner game with you and when you left in first grade, i had no more reason to play. so i didn’t. we had play dates at your house. your cat bit me, your sister was running up and down the stairs, you showed me your bunk beds, and you hid me under a blanket fort so that i didn’t have to go back home with my father. you gave up peanut butter for lent because of me in kindergarten. that’s honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. you now go to high school with me and i don’t think you recall. that’s insane to me.

3. dear s, i just remember you being best friends with the kid i mentioned above. you were quite shy and never talked much. i never really got to know you. the only thing i recall about you is that you had to put things in your shoes and you broke my best friend’s front tooth.

4. dear a, you and i played with toys together and we got along quite well. i was upset when you had to go. you were pulled out of class to be placed into a better school? i was bummed. i think i still see your face pop up into my mind occasionally.

5. dear j, you were the best at dodgeball and i always thought you were kinda odd, but i am too so… i don’t know. i went to your halloween party one year and you didn’t even speak to me. luckily i never wanted you to. i was a dog that year. when you left, it was just another person leaving. i hope you’re good now.

6. dear a, you came in third grade. everyone disliked you. it could’ve been the way you always read books while the teacher was teaching or the way you bit the collar of your shirt and your lips would get so red and chapped. when you left, everyone rejoiced. (no offense.) i was never really friends with you anyway.

7. dear p, i don’t really remember you much. your brother and your sister..possibly? if you had one…were really weird. no offense, i promise i’m not judgmental. we never talked much, that’s literally all i remember about you lol. hope you’re good.

8. dear p, you were a very interesting person. you sang let it go one time and said Hell instead of Heaven in the lyrics and everyone at my table was shocked. (that was in third grade.) you called yourself some weird name and everyone looked at you strangely when you did. you pinned one of my classmates against the wall and tried to kiss him. that was very creepy. you got sent to boarding school and i haven’t heard anything about you since. i hope you settled down after those years.

9. dear e, you always tried to steal my dessert that was in my lunch. (i’m pretty sure it was you who did that.) i cried to my parents about that. thankfully you stopped. one time, we played jenga and we couldn’t stop laughing so we had to go to the bathroom. i was peeing my pants i was laughing so hard. that is honestly one of my favorite memories. you got mad at me for how i read and you were a horse girl, but other than that, you were a good friend. you go to my new school now and you definitely don’t remember me. you’ve still got that red hair and those freckles. you look the same. i miss you a little.

10. dear s, you were my best friend. i got to show you around the school as a resident, (idk lol.) i complimented your lunchbox on that day. later on, i would stay a little after class so you could gather your hefty science book in your arms and we would walk up the staircase together. my cousin and my sister always claim i had a crush on you, but i never did. i was very upset when you left the school. you now walk around the halls of my new school with your head lowered to the ground. i wish i could make you happy like i used to. i honestly miss you. i really do.

11. dear b, i thought you were funny, but you were always disrespectful to the teachers. you once did this insensitive imitation at lunch. i didn’t want to sit next to you cause you would spit your food everywhere. you were the worst kid i think i ever knew. i once said to you “die in a hole cause you really are dirt.” maybe that’s why you claimed people at that school bullied you. but you were popular and everyone loved you, right? you could be pretty mean yourself. you go to my new school now as well, i don’t know if you recognize me, but i definitely recognize you. you’re a lot more tame now, i think.

12. dear a, i went to your birthday party and everyone was shocked since i never went to any party i was invited to. it was a lot of fun, you considered me as a friend then. but when i said hello to you a year after you left that school, you didn’t say anything back. i was humiliated. i missed the version of you back when i had to move my seat cause another kid and i were getting too rowdy. we sat beside each other and we became best buddies. perhaps only on my end. you came from minnesota and you talked about how cold it got and what scary tornadoes looked like there. you liked my stupid best friend, but you never even liked me, i’m guessing. everyone at my new school hates you. i don’t think you go there anymore. i never really liked you anyway.

13. dear z, you were fun. you were always quite fond of me. you saw me on the playground of the other middle school and wanted to say hi. i was afraid and didn’t think you really wanted to. but i said hi anyway. i told you that your mom looked like mine one time and i think you laughed or something. you go to my new school and you stare at me like you remember me, perhaps you do. i miss you.

14. dear e, the art teacher used to say that she wanted your hair type. she tried it one day, it looked awful, and i don’t even know why. it was kind of weird how obsessed she was with that. on the first day you came to school, you read two paragraphs too much about smoky the bear. how do i even remember that? we were the rowdy bunch in second grade. we laughed at everything. in fourth grade, you did something really creepy that i don’t even wanna say. i won’t out you like that. you were rich and pretentious, bringing fiji water bottles to school every day, but i miss you. i don’t know where you are now.

15. dear s, i had the fattest crush on you in fourth and fifth grade. everyone in my class liked you, it was kind of funny. my best friend even liked you. it was crazy, i tried denying it, but everyone knew anyway. (you actually liked my best friend though, you said some weird things about her.) i almost killed you one time. i gave you a peppermint because you asked for it and you started choking on it and had to run to the bathroom. our teacher was so worried for you, and i hid my head in shame. you were fine though; you didn’t snitch on me. you told me i was strong and you picked me to do a project with. i was so shocked and happy that you wanted me to be in your group. my sister said we were best friends, but i never thought we were. i really thought i was that unlikeable. i miss you? that’s a question.

16. dear b, in seventh grade you would only stand beside me during sparkle or whatever game we played. (if you never played sparkle, you haven’t lived.) my friends would call you out on it, especially a, but you would just smile and say nothing. one of the only male teachers was obsessed with you, probably cause he didn’t want you to feel left out. you almost cried every time you couldn’t solve an english sentence or when you got a c on a test. you were a wreck. i don’t even know what school you go to now, but i guess i wish you the best.

17. dear a, scratch what i said about the other kid being the most troublesome person i ever came across. you brought the board game chameleon to school and i had a blast playing it. sometimes you would cheat or stop halfway through the round and it wouldn’t be as fun. i defended you once to a teacher. you called her assignment dumb and she said, “are you calling me dumb?” and i was like, “no, he’s just calling the work dumb.” and you were like, “yeah.” you rarely came to school and i was shocked when you would actually turn up. a rumor flew around that you got expelled and God only knows where you are right now. prison? lol, probably not.

18. dear m, we sat on the same bus together and we laughed in the back every day. we both “hated” each other. we had debates on who could stand out in the freezing cold longest. it was me, always me. you once left in third grade after an ice cream party, but then came back. you left in sixth for good. you still live in my neighborhood, but i never see you. i miss you.

19. dear c, you were the most fun person i ever met. you told jokes and they rolled off your tongue so easily, you made me laugh on my most difficult days. you touched my neck one time as a joke and we talked about it from then on. you would always mention it. you called me so many funny nicknames and i know for a fact you started liking me. you loitered around my locker and tried any chance you got to talk to me. it was very flattering. i miss your laugh, your weirdness, your enthusiasm. i miss you more than most of the others for the attention and the kindness you showed to me. you didn’t show up to our graduation cause of covid and march thirteenth is the last day i ever saw your face. i wish with all my heart that that wasn’t true.

20. dear k, you were knowledgeable about everything and i always thought you were a know-it-all. you were never particularly nice to me, but again, i didn’t really notice. you snitched on people so much. you liked my best friend too and you wrote her a note and asked her if she liked you back. you both go to the same school and you talk to her a lot. that’s upsetting. i think you remember me and it’s awkward. sorry.

21. dear k, you were my best friend. we were partners in crime, but i’m not gonna write you a huge letter since i have written about you so many times and the wound just gets deeper every time. we sat together in every class. one time, we had a substitute teacher and we both changed seats so we could sit together. we got snitched on the next day. ugh. i miss you extremely. you wander the halls of my new school and you’re just everywhere and i can’t shake you. you hate me, i just know it.

22. dear c, you got ridiculed for your weight and i might have participated once. my friends joked about you needing to use head and shoulders because you had dandruff. i’m sorry. my one friend would act like i had a crush on you and he would make you sit next to me to see if my face turned red. i hated it, but i could tell that you didn’t mind. i have little clue where you are now. i don’t really miss you.

23. dear k, i’ve seen you a couple times since going to my new school. you’re still best friends with one of my good friends that stuck. we went to an escape room together and we laughed like old times. you’re shy like me and you make me feel comfortable. i hope to see you again soon.

24. dear c, you and i would fool around before class every day at seven thirty. it would get annoying sometimes, but i never acted bothered. i don’t like to make people feel like burdens. we would do morning announcements and i like to think that we were really good friends. i’d like to think that you thought that too. there was something about you that was just so welcoming. i miss you and i wish we could’ve kept in contact so we could’ve hung out more. my friend saw you at the ice cream shop the other day and it would’ve been cool if i had been there too.

25. dear a, you sent me a message and you don’t know how much that meant to me. i even wrote a **** poem about that, (don’t think i’m crazy though hehe.) you asked me about school and i took a whole ten minutes to answer because i didn’t know. should i have lied or told you the truth or what? so i just said it was good, just different. and then you showed me pictures of your new cat and her scratches on the drywall. she was a cute kitten. you wanted me to go to basketball games at other schools and i always came up with an excuse on why i didn’t go. dang it, i regret not going now. after my best friend left school, you and i became closer and we sat up in the math room together figuring out confusing problems. i miss spending time with you and i miss seeing your wet hair in the morning. i hope we can reunite and meet up soon.

26. dear s, you couldn’t go to the restaurant you wanted to for your birthday because you misbehaved. i told you about that incident a few months ago and you claimed it never happened. it did. my friends all used to pick on you since you were such an easy target. you don’t get social cues so i rarely ever try to joke with you. you said my voice was pretty when i was singing and i have always hated my voice so thank you for boosting my nonexistent confidence. you left in kindergarten, but came back in third grade and you were gonna go to a different high school, but you’re stuck where i am. we text now and we have lunch and class together. it’s fun hanging out with you sometimes.

27. dear f, i write poems about you all the time and it’s kind of embarrassing. at least you’ll never read them. in fourth grade, my old crush said you had a crush on me and i brushed it off. i know you still did all the way to eighth grade. you gave me so many nicknames and all of them made me laugh. you placed things on top shelves and put your arms against walls to show how much taller you were than me. i liked it secretly. we had spelling and academic contests together. you won some, i won spelling. i miss you more than everyone else i think, even though you made me feel like disgusting trash everyday. you’re the reason i still call myself ugly in the mirror. thanks. i still miss you, do you miss me?

28. dear j, you’ve helped me so much through high school and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to thank you enough. you introduced me to so many people and they have been excellent friends to me. we were never super good friends back then, but now we are. we text and we laugh and we have inside jokes and it’s all i could’ve ever wished for. you used to be a snitch, but you aren’t anymore. we have three classes together this year and i can’t wait to see you again on the first day of school. see you there.

and these are all the people who have shaped me into who i am,
wherever all of you are at this moment, thank you for spending most of my life with me.
thank you.

the days won’t slow
the nights won’t drag
they move too quickly
it’s all too fast

i’ve always hated august
her grip
on my arm
her drinks
in my bar
her laughs
so far
away
but i hear them
echoing off the walls
of the barn
in this particular
part
of the season.
it’s starting to
feel like treason.
i give so much love
lying in
summer’s arms
i hold her like
a three million
dollar diamond ring
and i give her everything.
she leaves me broken
and shattered
likewise the mad hatter
and i collect her
fragments like a good
little child.
a good little
disciplined child.
she discards the wild
in me,
although i
keep
her summer breeze
alive.

i’ve always hated august
the anticipation that
comes along with her
heated embrace
her clammy hands
on my face
she wants to be
a motherly figure
to take my mother’s
place, but she’s
just too forceful
not merciful
enough.
i want a refund
for all the
money i spent for
her
to keep loving
me,
but she lets me go
like i’m some
contagious cold
that only wants to
keep you close
so
it can give you
the most sniffles.

i’ve always hated august
her savage remarks
how she gets so dark
when i just want to
feel her presence
at eight o’clock.
she’s always busy
getting wasted,
her neglecting
so shameless,
she shoos me away
like a poor peasant
begging
at her feet.
the actions she
never apologizes
for,
she adores seeing
her
tanning children
suffer,
cry their brains open
since they have
no hope
and
no happiness.

i’ve always hated august
cause it always
seems
like she hates
me.
i wish we had
a better relationship
but she’s always made
my life a living
shipwreck,
again, i am beached.

it was panic, it was silence, it was machine gunfire ringing in the insides of my ears.
it was sheer destruction, it was pain, it was so much blood spilled in so many years.
the sky turned black, heavy droplets landed on top of my skull,
begging to wash away the manipulation, but they never could.
it was hurt, it was unapologetic, it was of malicious intent.
it was brutal, it was barbaric, it was all stored in the back of my head.
the fire burned ravenously, chewing bones, teeth, and leftover fragments of me,
charring parts of my flesh that bandages can’t cover up.
i tried to make it stop with my own two busted hands, but repairing doesn’t come overnight like closure.  
it lingers like a wildfire in the winds thousands of miles north,
and most of the time, the repair was in vain or couldn’t be held in a forest fire’s limp hand.
ashes settle, but you still smell the smoke.
it was twisted, it was calamitous, it took a piece of my remaining soul.
it was blinding, it was irrevocable, it was constantly taking a toll
even after the ‘sorry’s’ and ‘can i make it up to you’s?’
i still grew maggots all over my skin where they placed their bitter fingertips,
where they designed the monster embedded in me.
i breathe fire, i inhale smoke, i exhale ashes from my bleeding throat.
it was mistakes, it was casualties, it was shattered narratives and sovereignty.
it was vicious, it was surreptitious, it was trauma and warped realities.
suffering came like waves from the most caliginous seas.
i tried buying myself safety, eternity, and apologies,
but nothing ever seemed to work in my favor.
i have been trying for so long, for so many years, for so many lifetimes, for so many ages.
i hope it’s soon time for me to be laid to rest,
with no panic attacks, no strangers, and no reason to hurt anyone.
i was once the enemy of the world, but i don’t wanna be him anymore.

can’t remember the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
i miss when i didn’t know half of all the words that exist.
i regret ever ignoring my best friend.
i hate anxiety and the burden it makes me feel like i am.
i miss being able to look in the mirror and see someone worth while.
i miss being loved.
i miss being myself.
i miss everything.

i don’t care what she did
i don’t care what she does
she’s my friend, after all

my sister told me she’s full of red flags
she hasn’t texted me in over a month
she’s grounded, i’m guessing
(i’m low key glad we haven’t texted much)
(she can be kinda overwhelming)
i feel like a horrible friend for saying that

my brain hurts because she was always
so kind to me
she accepted me for doing nothing
i never had to prove myself when
she was around
yes, she may be problematic, but aren’t we all?

my sister told me to stop hanging out with her
and being friends with her
why would i break off a good friendship?
we’ve never done anything bad together

she tried running away with her boyfriend
his name is andrew and he’s much
older than her
in june, she told me he was good for her
and i was happy that she was happy
was i wrong for that?

now she’s reckless and crazy
(not that she was never before)
she’s only friends with ****
addicts and skateboarders
i’m the only exception
i’m the only normal stable (kinda) one

i hate getting confronted about my friends
i’m a good girl and i’m not a doormat
i know when things get sketchy
and when you should run away

i’m starting to rant, but i don’t
think it’s unhealthy  
who knows what will happen next
at least i get writing material out of this

(it’s just an innocent friendship)

i hear the
soft murmur of
distant firearms
loading and
reloading
backup called
i hear it from
inside my cozy
apartment walls

i dreamed in silhouettes
sold my heart for
a dozen dimes
the old women
on the street
kicking my joints
with their polished
high heels
pantyhose in
their wrinkly hands

i woke up when
the flood water
came in through
the windows
and broke
my slumber
and catapulted
me out of
my dreams

i remember
the news channel
buzzing with
kelly- or some
other generic
radio host name

her laughs
were loud and
evil and
had not even
a trace
of remorse

her pretty
face was reserved
for the microphone
poor gorgeous girl
it must be awful
to be stopped on
the street
because you’re so
incredibly attractive

they’ll tell you
a man doesn’t make
you a woman
but i’ve been the
**** of a joke
for never having
a boyfriend
to hold
what happened
to letting young
women be
independent?

some stuffed socks
down my throat
and told me
to inhale

i dreamed that
the bridge
in my small town
burned
to the ground
like the london one

i felt the heat
climb up
into the clouds
the atmosphere
coughing
while they
shopped at
the most luxurious
retail stores
in the
gigantic city

they poured
the children’s’ blood
down into
the gutters
of their
hampton estates
and they
just shrugged

she told me
my clothes
were too
poor-looking
i get that
you got a
brand new
toyota for
your sixteenth
birthday and
i’m pretty sure
you were driving
with your crush
or whatever
kind of
relationship you
have that i
couldn’t care
less about
it might have
been your “vicious”
parents car in
that instance

girls don’t
support girls
they stab them
and call them basic
i would know
cause i do
i’m awful
to my age
demographic

and the streets
are still littered
with rusty nails
and stale black
nail polish
with trash bags
no matter what
length your
haircut is

and the oceans
are still polluted
with makeup products
and coffee shop cups

and my heart
is still battered
and sore
from underneath
the sole of her
stilettos

letting go is
simple, yet
you still need
me to spell it
out for you

perhaps now
you know why
i was always
so good at spelling

i need to get some stuff off my chest
my cousin doesn’t like me anymore
i’m at a family gathering right now;
a birthday party
i love talking to my aunts and my grandma
they include me in conversations and
make me feel worth their while
maybe it’s a me problem
that i changed and i’m average
and painful to be around
it could most definitely be that
and i wish i could stop
obsessing over speaking
but quarantine ******* me over
and left me with repulsive social anxiety
someone’s laughing
and the shaven dog is barking
my ears can’t handle this
the dog hates me, she doesn’t
let me pet her and i just wish i had a
dog as a companion, but
my parents don’t want that responsibility
even though it would be all mine
i need a dog, i need a friend
who’s always present,
there for me
no one ever is
no one knows what gathers inside
my brain throughout the day
that forces me to write
or i would literally burst.
now my cousin said goodbye to her
favorite aunt and uncle
and her young cousins who
are perfectly skinny and basic
and **** perfect
i’m miserable now
it’s not like it used to be
her cousin looks like a model
where’s my glow up?
i just look so terribly ugly
that it hurts me so badly
even twelve year olds look like models
and they make me
so terrifically insecure
it’s infuriating
how unfair some things are
especially genetics and body dysmorphia
i need some boy who’ll soothe
this mental state i have
been swallowed up in
without my consent
my incompetent brain has never heard
the word ‘no’ before, apparently
i’m sick to my stomach
thinking about everything
and how everything used to be
and how everyone is changing
and how much i want to die
killing me would be doing me
a huge favor at this point
why do people always have
to make me insecure with their
toned bodies and gorgeous faces?
i am convinced that something
is eternally wrong with me
but i’ll stop making you
mad by saying i hate myself
cause now it’s basically redundant
but one last time 
for good measures
i hate myself
and i’ll never be an asset
to society
goodbye, the only thing that loves me for who i am is my writing

my cousin’s cousin has a boyfriend
she’s younger than i am.
i want love
but i’m not pretty enough
and it always seems like i’m not slim enough.
i’m not enough.
my poetry *****
it’s unoriginal, it’s bland, it’s not traditional.
it’s the only thing i like to do.
i’m not cool, i’m not popular
i barely have six friends.
it’s ok i guess
but my cousin’s cousin has a boyfriend
and i am so lonely.

knife marks on my deadbeat frame.
lingering emotions
but they aren’t as excruciating anymore.
wasteful injustice, crawling up my veins.
digging holes in my white blood cells.
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.
𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵.
jokes on me, sunrise isn’t rebirth.
it’s rubbing it in your face
that the world doesn’t stop turning
for you, it never stops.
you never get help,
no matter how many buttons you press
or how many hand waves you give.
𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠.

i trudged through frozen rivers
passed through red oceans
i bottled up my feelings and tossed them into the wrathful sea
fishing ships skimming through the vibrant bay
caught wind of my hopeless message floating meters away from where they cast their nets
tiny thoughts floating through levels of salty sea foam, devoured by the vicious waves
breaking, scattering and tossing seaweed into the briny air
“land **!” they bellowed, tying a thin rope to the side of the vessel
wonder if that truly makes a difference or that the boats just don’t really desire to depart
with unwashed fingers and hands, they ripped the bottle from the ocean’s greedy grasp
observing it with curiosity, they tapped on the glass of the object
the bottle cap popped open, revealing the suspicious contents
pouring it out onto the dock, they whispered when they saw the small yellowish letter lying flat; my letter
the captain read it to himself quietly and deemed it unnecessary to repeat to the rest of the crewmen
“perhaps, it is time to rest. the moon is almost at her peak.”
the captain uttered a couple words, for he was astonished such a hopeless thing could float ironically in the most teeming ecosystem to ever exist
my feelings were daggers, and not knowing where they originated from worried the captain

but everyone rises and falls
everyone lives and dies
everyone hopes and becomes hopeless
water carries secrets,
and in that, it holds stories

  -happy ever afters don’t exist in the ocean

i’ve spent years being mentally malnourished.
chasing sparks in the dark only to be burned.
on the edge of never knowing what i would do.
i asked myself where my mind was.
probably in a sinkhole buried deep in the earth.
i betray myself before i hurt anyone else.
my mind controls my body.
i’m so sorry…

isn’t it strange that we don’t name ourselves?
because if i had the choice, i would be named: the girl with wavy or curly hair that never belongs anywhere
or the girl who believes in God more than herself
the girl who fears rejection like it is Covid-19
the girl who wished upon a star, but is still waiting on her delivery
the girl who is senseless who knows nothing about anything
the girl whose best friend left her when she was thirteen
the girl who associates made up or distant people with safety and security
the girl who listens to too much music and it clouds her judgment
the girl who re-enacts movies after she sees them play onscreen
the girl who gets lost in Disney movies and doesn’t enjoy reality
the girl who died after eighth grade and is despising the high school experience
the girl who purposely curses herself on friday the thirteenth
the girl who lost her mind and has lost all her glory
eruption, disaster, ugly, failure, useless, dramatic, romantic, not even close to funny, unintelligent, boring, exhausting to be around, psychotic, waste of space, crazy
the girl who is anyone, but what my parents named me
the girl named…

i saw you with your chariot of horses in the sky, sparkling brighter than the cosmos
perpetual glory seeping out of your crystal eyes, beckoning the stars and the sun and the moon and the milky way
i was frozen on a cushy cloud, drifting on strong gusts of space matter
you kissed the universe and the black hole almost swallowed you whole
when you saw me, you lifted Heaven with your ******* and guided it towards me
the gates shimmered as i glided closer
your ravishing voice rang in my ears, it felt like angel choirs singing
you sculpted planets with the tiny blue powder inside my eyes and filled my heart with fragments of stardust
iridescent galaxies twinkled, enveloping my earthly body in sparkles
his chariot of stallions floated, leaving this part of the galaxy as a gift for my celestial self
he waved his heavenly hand and disappeared into the constellations
the solar system; undisturbed, goes back to how it was
a triumphant smile creeped onto my cheeks
he owns the cosmos and the galaxies and now he owns my heart

teach me how to drift in the wind
how to build homes out of charred wood
teach me how to dream
how to change stuck mindsets
teach me how to grow as wild and as old as the aged sycamore trees
how to paint stars in gloomy night skies
teach me how to capture saturn on film
how to be the best i possibly can
teach me to be unbothered like the ocean tide
how to make imaginary planets with the cellulite on my thighs
teach me how to love myself
how to love you as well
teach me all you know
the waves, the breeze, the undertow
teach me how to adore love
how to preserve nature
teach me how to be carefree like dolphins
how to roll in flower fields
and how to feel beautiful
teach me everything you know
everything

hey, you.
i don’t know who you are
or what you look like
or where you work.
actually, i don’t care.
you are enough.
  i am a hopeless romantic.
  i hope that doesn’t scare you.
  i just dream of starlit picnics.
  dates on tiny boats in swampy lakes.
  looking into eyes full of diamonds.
i don’t know how this kind of thing works.
i have never had a boyfriend before.
teach me the ropes.

  this letter is awful,
  but i can’t wait for you to come along.
  dear future boyfriend,
  i hope that you’re the one.

my old classmate had a written hit list
one of my teachers was in bold red lettering
i wish i had been on it

i feel like i don’t give the benefit of the doubt for the victims of my poems
they have their own sides of the stories
that they’ll never be able to tell

the moon has craters because those are the steps i envisioned taking before i was born
i was sent to earth instead

panic is the worst responder to stress, but it’s usually the first

hotels are small pieces of home i never got

i am afraid to drink a glass of alcohol
i don’t wanna lose control
besides my mother’s dad was a raging alcoholic and i don’t wanna be like him
his own sister says he’s unbelievably stupid
i don’t want my sister to call me a wreck so i won’t get drunk like other twenty year old kids

i didn’t learn to tie my shoes until the fourth grade because i wanted to ground myself
i ended up breaking an iPad when i learned
was it worth it?
i broke a screen, but earned a skill, cool
i was face-timing my best friend while playing basketball in a made-up hoop when i cracked that screen
the iPad is far gone now, so is she

had boughten lunch all throughout school because i always had to be different than other little children
(i didn’t chose to be)

my favorite artist is one who endured abuse by her boyfriends and possibly her mother
what does that say about me?

never been scouted out by polite boys or cute boys or any boys at all
a few liked me at my old school
but i haven’t seen them for years
and one of them called me ugly
reverse psychology?

always loved holding old fashioned phones to my ears to pretend to be more elegant than i actually am

recently, i have been scared of everything
journalism class, my two name alias at school,
junior year creeping up on me, myself
I JUST WANT TO BE SURE, DANG IT

imagining through the blue light on my screen
whispering profanities at my low life presenting personality
having had brunch with my cousin and my aunt pretending to be more of less of myself
it’s good to know they won’t know my full truth and personality and quirks since they wouldn’t come around anymore if they did
keeping secrets to secure family lines or at least the manifested faulty ties inside my mind
getting more comfortable with the fact that people shouldn’t have identities
never wanting people to know who i truly am or what i stand for

when we are younger we want everyone to be our friend and we don’t judge with cold steel eyes
we go up to the nearest person and we start playing with toys together
of course, i never did since i was the shyest kid ever, walking into kindergarten for the first time was traumatizing for me
kids don’t think about things such as slim waists or “too much” kinds of personalities
i don’t think i was aware of my identity till kids starting calling me ugly and saying they didn’t like me anymore
i came home crying, turning on the shower, knowing i wasn’t good enough for my peers
terrified for the first time in my life that i wouldn’t be accepted and i would be the bullied one on the outskirts
always wanting to be popular and liked was on my mind constantly, but at least i was being  
myself

nowadays, i hide away from people, knowing that when they speak to me i won’t be able to hold a conversation, knowing that they wouldn’t like the version of me that is embedded deep into my skin
my identity lies in my hands, manipulated to feel established, fiddled with to earn head nods

when i am older, in the partying age, someone might want to experiment touching my skin and creating divots where they placed their heavy fingers
might only wanna know what time i go to bed and purposely make me skip it, won’t wanna know what my favorite place to eat is after a long and strenuous cry, won’t wanna know why my identity is so secretive
won’t wanna know the flaws on my body that my mind has scrutinized for years upon years
just like harry styles said in fine line, “spreading you open is the only way of knowing you.”
we are so body and pleasure focused, knowing anyone anymore is like finding a needle in a haystack

sometimes i can be afraid to meet new people because they might not like me or i might never show them my true colors although the latter is a me problem
i’ll make friends who won’t know my favorite band and memorize all their song lyrics like i did when the anxiety was pumping into my veins rapidly
i’ll make friends who will come and go and get buried and get taken advantage of and maybe i won’t know their backstory because they might have chosen to hide their identity one day just like i did

proving your place in this world is exhausting and having a couple friends sprinkled in every capital city is soul *******
it starts to make you feel like these people are only around so you can raise your social status in the midst of robotic people with plastic instead of skin because they always hated their flaws and no one ever said they were beautiful and that it was actually society that shoved botox into their faces
wrinkles aren’t ugly, they are aging factors
stress isn’t avoidable, you can’t pile wax in your face to make it all come to a close

we stop being innocent and thinking the world is pure in middle school, some even earlier
we realize santa doesn’t come down a chimney and give us gifts every year, it’s our literal parents
our parents sell and tell us lies and we believe them because naivety hovers inside our brains
no wonder adults always call kids stupid and inept, they sold us detrimental lies in the first place, telling us to believe in magic, saying that the easter bunny actually came around when we should be talking about Jesus, it’s literally His holiday, God forbid

identity sprouts from human beings desiring to put each other into tiny boxes
“evil, shady, kind, jerky, angsty.”
no wonder everyone’s so ******* up nowadays, they just wanted to be accepted into these tiny labels and they never did so instead they cut themselves and slit their throats
their guts might be considered to be conforming, so the jousters will leave you on your death bed alone, in silence, smiling in ghost form, so happy you made the decision to just cut the world off
some of us aren’t that devoted

i have had plenty of different identities in my life, but never once have i loved myself
even if their lyrics holler “self love” i won’t be able to relate to that
good for everyone who can, it’s just not me
look—right there, what is me?
who am i?
in this world, what should i be, what identity does society want (need) me to be represented by?
but
whoever i am, i hate her