it was when you looked at me as the fireworks exploded in your eyes that i realized this is what life should be like

ballrooms and bokeh lights

there used to be a terrifying place i had to go
but you came in with your skyscraper touch, now i have vertigo.
not sick to my stomach, just a little bit distressed
how you would want to see me loved limitlessly and dressed.
these wounds are boils
little coils round my throat
and you look at me long enough for me to almost explode.
never been a volcano, always an accidental surge
now i guess you mean it this time, i will surely self-implode.
never dying alone,
saw you in your overcoat,
we drove twenty miles south to a sweet girl’s house
then, when you saw me falling asleep you said it was time to go.
oh, i’ve never been so carefully watched over,
always straddled the line of being a complete soulless loner.
you are not my owner, when we get much older
do you think we’d be happy with our heads on the other’s shoulders?

the reflection of tangerine sunset on the rainy road and the wide expanse of kansas is the pretty i want to be.

the mystery soaking in the wound.
some sun-tanned lady with a ballgown.
a rose bush absent of the thorns.

the burial sight of an isolated victim.
an unspoken but understood shadow.
the willow tree’s branches after a nightly frost.

the strange white light before death.
the neatly tidied vanity.
a polite aftershock after a raging earthquake.

the sandals,
the beachside condominiums,
the skyline with white stripes.

my amiability
surging through the atmosphere,
singing for salvation.

don’t waste your time trying to impress someone with higher status or nicer clothes or a prettier face.
they won’t acknowledge you anyway.

stop wasting your time, hung up on love that you crave.
being in high school and never having a boyfriend is totally ok.
you aren’t unlikeable just because you’re single, i can promise you that.
  
crush culture will make you wanna spill your guts out.

don’t make people your villains just because you envy them and their skeletal structure.

i know it feels as if you’re bathing in a hot spring filled with inexorable anxiety
and i know you wanna escape more than anything else in the entire universe.
this is just a moment.
you have the entire rest of a lifetime for yourself.
just stay strong.

don’t worry about what others think about you.
the only approval you should be seeking is your own; everyone else’s is irrelevant.
who cares if they judge you for such a trivial matter?
they don’t know the real you and if they did, they wouldn’t even look at you funny ever again.

i know you think that you’re not worth it for some reason
but you are worth every laugh shared and every contagious smile,
you are worth the space you occupy in other peoples’ minds.
you might not be brightest star, but you can keep shining.
you don’t have to be a prodigy at everything.
you’re good at things,
you’re talented,
you’re able.

you don’t need to be spotted in crowds.
if you want to remain invisible to the naked eye, go right ahead.
i promise no one is stopping you from keeping your distance.

you don’t have to be loud and crave to be seen to matter in this world.

times can feel like asteroids hitting your planet (and a war threatening it)
summer goes and winter comes and flowers bloom and then go dull.
people are just like seasons;
you don’t need to be happy all the time.

but who knows?
you’ll grow into a fine young lady/man
and no one will know what struggles taunted you when you were in eleventh grade.
besides,
no one thought that neptune had rings when they were there all along;
they were just invisible.


—see, even invisible things can be seen if you capture them with the right camera

your lover wears silk and paints her nails.
her hair is blond.
meanwhile i was blind to your longing.
you laugh at my jokes
while she dances in restaurants with her model-like accomplices.
she’s spring,
i’m a winter chill climbing over those limbs of yours i long to lay beside.
does she make you laugh
even when the jokes aren’t funny
even when your nose is runny
and even if you spill out too much of you
would she adore you just the same?

you are a fleet upon my shoreline
in mid-december
in the decline
of the seasons.
my impulse is to keep you captive
in an ocean net made to capture fish
i am not unforgiving so i despise this new version of me
there are shipwrecks to be uncovered
and sandy shores to be explored
there are glass shards in the hearth of my heart
they’re from shattered mirrors lying beside the bedside
that i drove a single fist in upon interpreting the impersonal reflection
i have remorse for the way my lighthouse light caused your tiny rowboat to become one with the island i inhabit
i have regrets for the way i watched your salt-licked body drag itself to shore
and let the possibility of you dying linger gently
i let the sea swallow you too quickly
if i obstruct my view, it’s just the lapping of the sea;
just the constant reminder of its immensity.

park benches and arm stretches
hugs that feel like roses blooming
like footsies fooling
diehard chasers and fearless makers
high heels carving holes in the concrete floor
how is that possible?
holding hands on carved bridges made from men so long ago
touching each other’s shadows
behind telephone poles
dreaming mid-yawn
spinning in silk and satin spindled suits and dresses
red streaked eyes and tempered smiles and luxurious bodices
dancing on picnic looking tabletops
laughing our butts off
swinging from low hanging chandeliers
drinking from low budget wine glasses with koolaid since we’re minors
laying on each other’s chests and stroking each other’s hair fervently
trying to ***** dance in the sparkle of the sunlight
catching each other as we fall into trusting positions
pretending to be spies on top secret missions
grabbing my waist and falling onto the sparkly clean floor
becoming so mad yet never unsure
captivated by your lips and the way your skin twinkles a million different shades
and the way your voice calls my name in a billion languages,
some completely made up even
meticulously planning the way our shoes will leave marks in the dusty spots of the castle
sweating and eating brunch for dinner and not eating filet as an entree but as an appetizer
falling into your strong arms and losing control of what we are
seeing stars in the retinas of your eyes and mysteriously feeling dead-alive
like never before
nobody would have ever seen the manner in which you bat your eyelashes at me
and how the soft murmur of the breeze echoes across the coarse part of your cheek
and calls for me
safe and compact into a life that’s so magically intact
loving would never have been so tranquil if we had planned every single sought after moment
candidly slow dancing in the velvet summers day
being odd and obscure and strange in several colors and in multiple ways
touching the surface of your ocean wave body
sloshing so wonderfully
the rhythmic sound and all your capabilities
the rampant sweat clinging to your face, your throat,
looking at me
clowning around, tackling each other while grinning wildly
pillow fighting so hard the feathers exit and get caught on our wet tongues and shivering bodies,
and we collapse and watch hours and hours of tv while we sing karaoke from the 80s and pretend to be heartbroken like in the mvs
sitting on established thrones without the grueling jobs and committed work
losing sleep cause we stay up all night playing monopoly, but mostly it’s just you making fun of me cause i don’t participate i just grab my knees and admire the way you pick up the cards and still lose to me
and watch your rage fuel our fake arguments so we end up with full stomachs and happiness
watching theater from the highest balcony and grabbing my shaky hand and ridding of my anxiety
lovers spit, kissing cherry lips in the darkness of the abyss
kicking papers off of desk offices and messing around as if we are two tiny kids
having the kind of love that doesn’t get trapped beneath the sofa cushions that are crusty and ready to give away, but haven’t yet
the kind between gapped teeth, white as ivory, licking the dwindling flavor and savoring the last moments till it’s not sugary
taking life so seriously is absurd,
instead dance ballroom style on tabletops and try ***** dancing for once in your darned life
it ain’t gonna hurt

i pray i will be able to love those who i am afraid of loving
for fear of seeming too sensitive.
i pray i will be able to pick up the phone for someone who really appreciates my time
because he will not hurt you.
i pray i will be able to confess my emotions
not cowering behind a facade.
i pray i will be able to love you
and i pray that i will not push you away.


—he will not hurt you. you will only hurt him.

i've been let down
countless times.
i've lost who i was while not knowing who i've ever been
but it doesn't matter anymore. i've
sketched the ideas of people who have failed me over and over again,
or perhaps i have failed them.
offered myself to some kind of world that casts me out,
that calls me a stranger, a liar, a dancer with no stage.
i've lost the need to love--it never needed me,
how should i desire its harsh arms? for the sake
of fear, fear of existing alone, living for myself?
and what is being alone--
the loneliest i ever felt was in a crowd, a crowd that does not
look deep into itself
to realize its austerity, to realize its small mindedness.
but to be alone is when the phone never rings, the welcome is slow and uneasy, the whole world is singing to a melody you cannot understand.
when all you want to do is love,
but nothing wants to love you, not even yourself
and you don't even blame anyone anymore.
how could you?

your hands were fire
i needed to be warmed
in my little flower crown
on my hesitant head
but
i denied it
it makes me sick with sorrow
as i paced in my own selfish delusion
losing focus
losing faith
we danced on the patio
as the night thickened
i turned you down
left you turning black
underneath my touch
you grabbed her hand
reaching for a soft resolution
did you know?
i forgot how to process
i wrote you notes in candlelight
hoping moments could become
real again
real
real…
i once believed i would marry the weather
and its mood swings
but i lost my way while walking back home
tripped on the beaten path
i lost the fire that was contained in your soul
it couldn’t turn to solid fast enough
i died alone in a abandoned bar
as you dined in a two story house with your children at the foot of your bed
but i didn’t love you and i still don’t, so why do you seem like my missing piece?  
why do i feel like i need you?
something real, something real, something real

the clock ticks by
foreign matter in my lungs
choking back the truth
and i don’t know why.

homeless nomad
clinging to chains
tied to the ground
clad in wormy silk.

i tried to change
myself for someone like you
someone with a
cruel mind
in place of a crueler being.

i tried to change
all for you
yet still crammed in a jail cell
with rats as friends
who scoff at my
loneliness and
feed off of my fear
take me over,
i don’t desire the person
i have become; who i have tried
not to be

through salty hazy eyelids
there is a passage of time.
high-rise buildings towering over
yet no surfaces of words appear soft
on my uneven teeth.
have there a remedy for this banal wording
or for this dread?
come to my wedding
the nonexistent death of my nonexistent cowardly heart.
there will be no groom,
just empty pews and the priest who will mourn for me.
foggy windowsills with a disillusioned soul inside.
good poetry shouldn’t have more than one metaphor
i shove them all in just for good measure
and that’s selfish.
aren’t we all just living hedonistic existences?
all bound to chains and fire breathing dragons
all firm in our decisions to remain exactly who we are
but i don’t want to be who i am
and i cannot articulate that any better.

i watched the brightest star in the sky through my melancholy filled eyes
i think i saw your silhouette dancing in the brisk winter air
my pupils became satellites
and if i wasn’t so petrified i woulda cried
but it isn’t on me
and i cry in secrecy

i think i saw you pirouette by the dwindling shine of the star
but that’s just a thought of mine
i thought i’d bring to mind

i don’t believe in who you are anymore
now that my shoes have holes the size of dimes
and the drunk is still wearing off
and coming back from time to time.
wonder if the pressure ever ceases.
wonder if your heart feels empty
on a rainy night
or when i write,
wonder if your mind keeps spinning dreams
where i’m on the fence and the dogs are in the yard
and love isn’t scary when you’ve stared down the barrel of it for so long.
you ever wonder if your heart might stop one day,
ever wonder why the shame builds walls around us
and yet we keep dancing around it with our old shoes?
i don’t wonder anymore
about your whereabouts or where your emotions sit,
cross legged and anxious.
i don’t wonder anymore about our small town
and its stipulations.
i don’t wonder about you that often
and it makes me wonder what we had that made me love every second like it was my own offspring
like it breathed me alive until i died again and again
just so you would revive me.
i don’t wonder about you,
that often, anymore,
maybe the shame ate away at my bones
and provoked me for too long.
never knew the wound would heal itself and soon it would be apt time to forget.
does one forget?
does one forget those late nights,
fever-less after a sickness?
does one forget each purpose they’ve gathered
when they were not searching?
does one forget you?
does one simply stop believing in you?
stop thinking of you?
until the dust settles and the doors slam shut
and the empty hallway is just a hallway again
and not filled with your absence?
stop waking up wishing for you?
stop dreaming of the world without bloodshed, without fear, without shame?
just suddenly forget every emotion
that rests inside the mind?
just suddenly forget you?
stop believing in the falsehood?
just stop believing in you?

maybe we are punished
by those we miss most
with dark eyes
and heavy bags that
linger on a sad face.
maybe we are hurting
by ourselves and
we think it might get better
to wish for a lover,
i don’t want a lover,
i wanted to be loved.
now that that’s over,
i can’t remember
how tender you were
how life was a story
that i would’ve
fabricated to my mother
if it hadn’t happened
like it had.
maybe we are punished
by the thoughts we hold
that we think can stay forever,
a lingering cold.
maybe we are losing
our minds just a little
every second.
the neurons are gone—
what does it take to remember?
what does it take to remember?
make it much more,
bring it all back,
i haven’t thought of you—
it’s driving me mad.
how i can forget
what means the most?
am i being punished
by you, i hope
so.

not an evergreen,
staying alive has never had simplicity.
i’m angry that i made myself like this,
trimmed my branches,
thought things were not meant to stick to me.
i am angry that i thought
my savior is some wanderlust women
unfit for the journey,
jealous of the destination.

not an evergreen,
i cannot live without water.
the cold pursues me,
prancing in the unbearable wind.
there’s salvation on the edge of the horizon,
some soft meadow to lay my head upon.
along the line of trees, finding is impossible.
somehow not small enough
to be cut down and taken home and,
without a doubt,
i am not tall enough to see.

the dusty old school rock cds on the cracked cubby top
brush it off, but some still remains
coughing a bit up before setting it down to reminisce
it all reminds me of
the way the Polaroid camera snapped the life outta me
how every word you said was so heavy that i started sinking
how we were headbanging for kicks and started becoming wild creatures
how the radio cringed and squealed and how we still sang every word to “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
how the guitar riffs are just pain coming out into art
bursting with meaning and passion

the dusty old school rock cds sit there, stationary on that same cracked cubby top
and we recall the past as if it was some life-changing yesterday

just a line
just some item to buy
to place your grubby fingers upon
when the reflexes get
too repulsive not to surrender to
then lay those surfaces upon my heart
greasy fingerprints
then disown me,
only an object of desire

let the rhythmic pause of neurons
define your sense of being
just
please
don’t infect me

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

existential crisis- i am alone
sinking, then floating
in mute and pine green tones
the forest of secrets
screaming in pillows
and losing grip on the moving platform
desert crying
sidewalk skipping
falling
and bleeding
internal deprecation
hitting my own fingers with text books
to make them stop admitting my mistakes
stop misusing the “right” words
the break of dawn over the woods
using the moon as a defense mechanism
losing a helper
a security system
and i think it’s time i run back to you
unless you don’t want me there with you
i will just be numb until you call out my name
in the tortured heat
i will be there if you need me

who said this would ever be fun?
i am a gaping wound
just passed back in forth between my mind and my heart.
i don’t know how to breathe without an oxygen tank
pumping filtered air into my body.
i’d much rather be dead than have some machine breathe for me.
i am a gaping wound
at every party, i wasn’t invited.
i just stand in the background
and watch everyone else
live till they puke
love till they collapse.
special: why did i ever feel so?
every place hurts
because i smell your scent here
i see traces of your sweat on every chair.
everywhere i look, you had been there before.
dancing with your heart on your sleeve,
you learned how to live at such a young age,
can you teach me how to breathe by myself?
show me the ropes, i can repeat it,
even if you only do it once, i’ll break my ankles and shatter my lungs piecing together any little part i remember.
teach me how to breathe without apologizing,
how to lucid dream,
how to be someone you would never ever forget
even if you get dementia and your brain doesn’t remember how to function anymore.
i am a gaping wound,
but please wipe the blood and bandage me up.
never mind; i don’t wanna damage you too.

good thing it’s not tomorrow till tomorrow. so i will sit on the edge of an eclipse, chasing moonlight specks from the balcony. i look up and it’s always you. there is always a someone i seem to feel the need to chase in the stars instead of just sitting incapsulated and quiet. letting the wind whistle between my cheeks, allowing my hair to flow and move in whatever way it deems worthwhile. so many things have convinced me i was not worthwhile, that i was more a currency than human being. i let the weak tell me i was weak, i let the strong arms go for a more lonely route. i let myself be defined by the amount of words that slip my tongue, i let my name be uttered remorselessly from lips that only wished the worst in me. silence allows thought, empathy, love. i am silent and content. sometimes it feels almost too easy to remain at peace with every single attack and blow i receive, but next time i will be more ferocious. i will growl and fuss and scream for my sake. i will take your words and aim them at you with fiery eyes. seemingly a coward, i am just so brazenly tired of feeling not enough. for speaking, for lack there of, for being the one who stares at stars instead of laughing at unfunny things and associating loudness with eagerness and loudness for being simpler to love. i am a silent shooting star, begging to be watched by passersby’s too busy staring at their screens to see.

seized—
deceased people around me
see the anxiety that
towers over me
like a dictator hungry
for tyranny

frightened—
held by the nightmares
that heighten my senses
tighten my vessels
take into account
my unenlightened downfall

conquered—
off my rocker
stabbed with blades,
they knocked her
out and she cried
but not ta’
worry, she’s
bonkers;
shocker

captured—
years since i’ve felt rapture
left my optimism
in a time capsule
fractured my bones
discarded them in a chapter
book
lost my laughter
caught in disaster

just when i assume the worst has passed,
the peril continues
strong and decided
seizing me,
frightening me,
conquering me,
capturing me

i am a dying wish—yours to be specific.
the wish dying in your arms every time the sun makes its rotation around the Earth.

there’s no life in me; i am a carcass strewn over the highway,
crushed and mangled and torn to shreds.

what if, if after every pound i lost,
i lost more of myself?
a skinny figure who changed herself to please a piece of glass.

when you said my name, i felt like you would leave me in a cornfield unconsciously anonymous,
yet you streaked my sky.
i’m shedding tears like skin, like burdened rain
seeping from the clouds on a day the world decides to die a little.

when the night is still, my muscles tense up.
i’ve been waiting for the memory of you to remember me,
dancing shameless on the ledge,
unafraid to look childish, knowing you were the first to make the empty void cease.

wide-eyed at the ceiling, losing two strands of hair in the shower, mailing you my address, begging you to stay.
you won’t—i won’t let you.

i am a foggy backroad, you cannot see through me.
all you’d see is a figure, clutching her stomach,
pinching herself for eating two meals,
for not resisting the temptation to feed the pressing hunger.

in your mind, the quietness i exude is only when my brain is confined.
there are shapeless memories and words that float until my arms are strong enough to grab them.

what if after every pound i lost, i lost more of myself,
drifting away into an unwelcoming atmosphere, unfit for someone as bewildered as me?

what if i love you and i don’t know what to do with that
so i write on a night with no moon visible from my bedroom window
and i lie awake wondering whether you are dreaming of me or whether you love me too
or whether we are nothing
but two memories floating,
remembering the other as their favorite one?

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

oh, how i wish i could be those girls in miniskirts
those girls who make 360 turns
in their Range Rovers
those girls who have boyfriends in perms
those girls who never recycle
those girls who party all night and never see real struggles
those girls who find opportunities on their rich stepdad’s floor
those girls who walk lightly cause they’re attainable  

but those girls die early due to their depression
they overdose on medication cause the media’s attention is too
unconventional
they scream into their pillows at night and
cut their tongues to make an effort to be silent
they kick and punch, but the world has no sympathy
they get discarded and left for the next best thing

and so
maybe i don’t wanna be those girls
i wanna stick to my world
where normal isn’t boring, it is a staple
and in a world where the only thing the future holds
is the future
not sick and twisted girls in miniskirts

girl in your salty apparition
drastic ammunition
posed for the dreary mood of the camera screaming slurs on
television
withheld by the standards of creation

poor girl
the daughter of society’s atrocities
you have synchronized heart failure
with the darkness
the desert sand engulfs you
it transports you into the hyperbolic grasp of reality

girl and your insatiable hunger to be bigger than the swords that chop off your limbs
you are the choices you make
you are the friends you make
you are the opportunities you take
you are the you that you are terrified of
the you that shines with red blood dripping from her fangs
the you that violates the system
the you that ingests chemicals so she can feel whole
the you that has been burned to the ground

girl in the danger zone that is your lungs
your venomous victimhood
encroaches on your meaning to exist
yet in spite of your crestfallen volition
you can divorce
the misnomers
you can transform
into a creature that looms over your sorrow
and pecks away at its core

girl in the heart, mind, body, and flesh
be the force of nature you couldn’t stomp out
be the ammunition that locks and loads and explodes
stop the premonition of an incoming battle
lock your jaw and
connect the fragments of your stricken language
yet don’t harden the hit on the clambering back
of the man who keeps all of his power
locked in a lockbox
don’t form a coalition
and strike his shoulder
with bleached eyelids
alike colluded soldiers following orders    

girl with your soggy teardrops
it will all be over
and the summer will hold you
with both of its arms
and you will embrace
not shortly, for a long period of time
and you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 know love
and you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 be acknowledged
and you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 be reborn from the ashes
phoenix,
though the trees will topple onto your highways
and the stars might seem light years away
you’ll get there someday
and when you do
i will withhold you in the ecstatic standards of creation
you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 abandon the reprises
you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 sing in the opera
you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 adopt a new method
and divest the old
screeching with indignation
your shaky hand will greet another and
you 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 fall in love
either with the affairs of your unkept emotions
or with a kind individual who promises you stability

be freed from your chains
and set off into the horizon
the you that you are
rose from the ashes
you are the you that you always were

i have an innocent disposition
pacific ocean blue eyes
eye bags so purple they look like bruises
two hands that write and move
sometimes in ways i despise
unruly instances
i have thoughts beyond your imagination
purposes beyond your comprehension
values, morals, and attitudes you will never understand
i have two fists, red with repressed anger
legs strong and stable
to contrast the ground beneath my feet

i have to rid you out of my bones
your feral smirk and your vehement denial
i just wanna live in a state of safe haven
without my black heart or your carnivorous confrontations in the way

the adamant repulsion i feel
stapled to my chest like i own the compulsions that generate from me
scream into the microphone
my boiling blood the driving force in my disgust
these restraints like sandbags tied to my neck
choking me into a state of agony

i want to shower
rinse this uncomfortable filth that gathers on me

you should feel guilty

i’m not dying to the sound of a lonely armageddon in this cycle of seasons.
just slightly absentminded in nightmares that i refuse to end.
once you stop trying to please
the shadow of another human,
you start to awaken without screaming.
but i’ll always awaken with clenched fists
a quiet, bubbling temper
simmering on the surface.
i won’t point them eye level to you this time,
i’ve learned to shift blame,
i’ve learned to understand your accidents.
and if one of them was me,
i forgive her.

when the floodlights hit my body,
i hope it dazzles clearly
for i am scared i’ll disappear in a crowd
and the beam of light won’t notice me.
although i’m frantically waving my arms
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦
with those eyes that make the moon seem small
that make the sun lose some of its glory.

and once the day will bring forth no light
and we will have to forge some ourselves.
your arms will be the anchors
holding Earth still
and i’ll lasso the sun two times around
and coax it out of the nimbostratus clouds
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦
it whimpers.

when we walk in alleyways with no streetlights,
i hope you hold my jacket sleeve or my hand in the cold chill of the sudden change in temperature.
i pray that you’ll still watch me
so strangers walking with the darkness
don’t steal me away
and make a jail cell out of my heart
leaving the prisoners it detained pacing and awake.
i hope the streetlight shines or your heart bursts into the fire of one thousand suns
just
promise me you’ll
𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦

вⷡleͤaͣᴋⷦ & s͛aͣdͩ
& yoͦuͧng & mͫaͣdͩ
              whͪaͣᴛⷮ aͣ s͛weͤeͤᴛⷮ,̓ goͦrͬgeͤoͦuͧs͛ giͥrͬl
  вⷡoͦuͧndͩ ᴛⷮoͦ fiͥndͩ aͣ neͤw woͦrͬldͩ
iͥn ᴛⷮhͪeͤ рⷬaͣlmͫ oͦf hͪeͤrͬ cͨiͥrͬcͨuͧlaͣrͬ hͪaͣndͩs͛
  вⷡeͤndͩiͥng ᴛⷮhͪeͤ eͤxͯрⷬeͤcͨᴛⷮaͣᴛⷮiͥoͦns͛ oͦf aͣ s͛quͧaͣrͬeͤ рⷬlaͣneͤᴛⷮ
              whͪaͣᴛⷮ aͣ s͛weͤeͤᴛⷮ,̓ loͦyaͣl giͥrͬl
   s͛ᴛⷮaͣвⷡleͤ iͥn ᴛⷮhͪeͤ рⷬoͦlluͧᴛⷮeͤdͩ eͤnvͮiͥrͬoͦnmͫeͤnᴛⷮ
liͥᴛⷮ wiͥᴛⷮhͪ iͥncͨaͣndͩeͤs͛cͨeͤnᴛⷮ liͥghͪᴛⷮs͛
      cͨrͬeͤaͣᴛⷮiͥng рⷬiͥrͬaͣᴛⷮeͤ s͛hͪiͥрⷬs͛ frͬoͦmͫ hͪeͤrͬ рⷬeͤncͨiͥl
dͩrͬaͣwiͥng s͛ᴛⷮoͦrͬy liͥneͤs͛ wiͥᴛⷮhͪ hͪeͤrͬ aͣrͬвⷡiͥᴛⷮrͬaͣrͬy mͫiͥndͩ
              whͪaͣᴛⷮ aͣ рⷬrͬoͦuͧdͩ,̓ joͦyfuͧl giͥrͬl
s͛hͪeͤlᴛⷮeͤrͬiͥng ᴛⷮhͪeͤ liͥрⷬs͛ oͦf hͪeͤrͬ рⷬaͣrͬᴛⷮneͤrͬ
       iͥn ᴛⷮhͪeͤ dͩeͤeͤрⷬ foͦldͩs͛ oͦf ᴛⷮhͪeͤ niͥghͪᴛⷮᴛⷮiͥmͫeͤ hͪoͦuͧrͬ
   cͨaͣрⷬᴛⷮuͧrͬiͥng hͪeͤrͬ eͤncͨloͦs͛eͤdͩ s͛ᴛⷮaͣrͬliͥᴛⷮ dͩrͬeͤaͣmͫs͛
           iͥn vͮaͣluͧeͤs͛,̓ iͥn ᴛⷮhͪeͤ cͨeͤmͫeͤᴛⷮeͤrͬiͥeͤs͛,̓ iͥn ᴛⷮhͪeͤ weͤeͤdͩs͛
  iͥ dͩrͬeͤaͣmͫ aͣвⷡoͦuͧᴛⷮ hͪeͤrͬ iͥn eͤvͮeͤrͬy waͣy,̓ s͛hͪaͣрⷬeͤ,̓ oͦrͬ foͦrͬmͫ
iͥn eͤvͮeͤrͬy laͣnguͧaͣgeͤ iͥn ᴛⷮhͪeͤ woͦrͬldͩ
iͥn вⷡlaͣndͩ & s͛iͥmͫрⷬleͤ yeͤᴛⷮ s͛рⷬuͧnᴋⷦy giͥrͬls͛
iͥn yoͦuͧ,̓ iͥn mͫeͤ,̓ iͥn mͫy woͦrͬᴛⷮhͪ
iͥn guͧiͥᴛⷮaͣrͬs͛,̓ iͥn рⷬiͥaͣnoͦs͛,̓ iͥn mͫiͥcͨrͬoͦрⷬhͪoͦneͤs͛
iͥ vͮiͥs͛uͧaͣliͥzeͤ yoͦuͧ aͣndͩ yoͦuͧ juͧs͛ᴛⷮ dͩoͦn’ᴛⷮ ᴋⷦnoͦw

i used to know all your best friends,
just so you know
we used to giggle together in intimate classrooms

     but forget that, right?

i forgot the richness of politeness
the sweat dripped off my body
and your eyes dazzled like crystals.
a rose grew from the slight smile on your lips.
you awakened a fight or stay response in me

you reached out and touched my palms
and yours were not hot coals as i expected them to
be
they were violet and soft and smooth and moisturized
you didn’t have the crocodile disposition i dreamt you would

i felt like an animal that accidentally broke the glass of its confinement
and didn’t know what to do
with the scattering crowds and screaming children
so it just ran.

in your arms,
you caught me.
not too harshly,
but so i felt safety.

i owe you some serious debt for giving me
the simplest little smile along with
the tiniest little gestures

the claws of the lion dug into my spine,
razor-sharp and cruel

i didn’t deserve the kindness you showed me
i was scared you would hate me if i talked to you,
i didn’t know what to do.
the roses wilted inside my palms
as they stayed clumped from under the weight of my hands.

i pray that you blossom in your future
and i aspire to give the same kindness
as you have gifted to me.

i harbored the monster inside of me
fed it juice and the best parts of me.
now honestly,
i just wish he would go away.

everything we ever did is now collapsing in front of my feet
barefoot and dragging over glass shards, fire sparks, and your skull.
i feed the monster
my insecurities
and it lays them in its teeth.
takes you from my liquid hands
leaving me empty handed
every
time.

everything you are is everything i am not
….will never be
radically selfish, i am, causing you pain.
the monster screams and screeches and i have to give in
every
time.

my teeth are glass and they puncture your perfect skin.
the monster laughs at my attempts
he tells me you don’t want me here, don’t love me.
he feeds me lies;
i believe them
and i am ashamed
for i let him get away with it
every
time.

i am ashamed that i have let you burn
every
single
time.

everything you ever did for me
is wasted and washed away.
i want to forgive myself,
but he will not let me.
he will not let me be free.

before i go to college, i want to live. i was living in a moment of time, paused to wait along for me. i want to hang out with friends and stay out until early morning and sleep the whole day and meet up again and again. i want to climb the monkey bars and slide and swing on swings and run till my head aches. i want to dive headfirst into a pool, not worrying about how deep the bottom is. i hate to be alone, but it’s all i know. it’s all fear. i live by fear. i let it spoon feed me only soft foods and i can only swallow when it lets me. i let it live pacing in my stomach, letting its claws dig at my intestines. i let it tell me what to do and what not to do even if i don’t want to. even if i want to run away from the suffocating arms of liars who say they care about me. i will remain at their heels, wining like a lost puppy, waiting for my owner to lift me up and pet me and reassure me. i don’t wish to be alone, but sometimes the ache is so immense the only thing i can do is slam the door. shut everyone out. i can only injure myself if i am alone. i do not wish to hurt anyone. i want to dab at pulsing wounds. i want to wash hair in a sink and wrap the towel around a cold body. i want to tuck someone in. i want to love, i have so much love to give. so much love to foster inside of me. i have so much life to live, but i’m stuck walking back and forth in a vicious nightmare. i want to be in your dreams, a warm hand to hold, a fire that’ll warm the bones that you hide away. i will not judge, i will only stroke your hair and love you. i have so much love to give, i don’t want to be alone anymore. i want to spend my entire sweltering summer days lying on picnic blankets and staring at the clouds saying ‘this one looks like a heart, this one looks like singapore, this one looks like a train, this one looks like you.’ i want to live and cry and sing with friends on an open road with the windows down and laughter ringing in my ears. i want my abs to burn and i want to dance in flower fields unafraid to be alone. i was not made to be alone. i was made to be a friend, a lover, a trier, a doer, an example of what wondrous things can do. i was made to belong, even if i try to deny myself of it. i was made to love and live and be happy just as much as the next person. i was made to be myself. i was made to be the person i am now and i should not deny myself the entirety. i was made to exist, to live and love and live and love until i’m dead and gone. i deserve to be loved, i deserve the feeling of belonging, i deserve to live.

by the time i get to college, i want to be able to love you and live.
selflessly, beautifully, and endlessly.

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…

we spent our summers in a daze made up of sugarcane and promises lost in the wind
the heat soared above us, free and untamed
we didn’t ***** our fingers on the thorns
we swung till the sun pierced our skin
sunburnt and snakelike peeling specimens
we danced in the ashes, a feasible effort
baked in our button-ups,
American flag wielders, Jesus lovers
half deceased in a pile of audacity
dresses on girls with the actual embodiment of the word
we were outright outliers on the brink of independence
we were broken, but we felt like stained glass
a beautiful portrait of veneration
they showed our faces to the president and he sighed with relief
some days we laughed until we got sore
under water fountains and jet blue skies that made us forget our melancholy
and sometimes we swore we would never speak again
the sun was burning holes in our soles
we breathed in the smoke, it felt holy in my lungs
we regretted to regret if we would ever lose this charm
but i guess we all figure out, you have to pretend until you’re gone
we were still indigo sparks in the Fourth of July sky at midnight
we saw the statue as it beamed for opportunity
and we smiled back in common courtesy
i even showed my teeth
in the summer we were folk songs
word of mouth enchantresses
flying high above the canopy
we remember when the piano started to weep
the sweat on our brows used to slide down our cheeks
for sore eyes they would’ve looked like teardrops
though time has passed
through a narrow mindset
i still remember how the roads got wet on a Saturday morning
and the sprinklers quit
because their jobs were fleeing
it’s crazy she’s dead now
summer dreams only fade
we lost the look in our beady eyes
i missed the last train to freedom
hearing my name be called by you was like having my heart ripped out in front of me
but for summer she doesn’t recall such a memory
i would’ve loved to hold your sweaty red hand for the last time knowingly
as the season set and invited the breeze
for now it’s just like a reverie
a hazy afterthought
splitting through the atmosphere like a comet
it wasn’t glory, it was gory
the summer sunset stuck in our frizzy hair
we lost the feeling we chased for so long
behind an alley that smelled of redemption and cinnamon
an island lost in legend
a girl with loose intentions
whose fists fight hyperbolic battles
sweaty recollections of a faint moment in space  
a storm weathers
forgiveness is flowering in my palms
and we used to be so good at that

every ache in my soul is a power outage
the lights are out
the electricity fizzing
the power lines lay on my house
the walls cave in
the fridge is rotten
the humidity lingers
the sink doesn’t run
the internet is spinning
my head is spinning
my brain is spinning
every room too hot to enter
too inhospitable
every little sigh is a sweat bead
dripping and falling
crashing and burning
i keep on turning
the fan on
but it won’t work
my head is spinning
my brain is spinning
my mind is spinning
spiraling into madness
every sentence you spoke is a weapon
the heat is sizzling
the telephone poles are screeching
and i cannot put the power back on
i don’t have the power to do such a thing
i don’t have the power to do such a thing
i don’t have the power to do anything
to do anything
to do anything
show me once, how to do anything
how to do anything
how to be anything
how to be anything
how to be anyone
how to be anyone
how to turn back on
can this turn back on?

the moon—she knows of who she is;
i have no idea who i am.

perhaps a jellyfish
who stings when she’s provoked
not always under duress, sometimes
just because she feels threatened by the enormous depths of the sea.
perhaps a lover,
a silly little heart
that glows when it’s full
that beats when nerves flood in.
perhaps a sailor,
wandering and contemplating a world
where one could be free
and devoid of responsibilities,
chasing the stars and seas
yet somehow sees them as omens
she must avoid.
perhaps a daughter
with harp string fingertips
with legs that waltz with no regrets,
who breaks her back to measure up
and sings the craving to bed at night.
perhaps a flame,
one swallowing all the elements
destroying every path,
begging that they’ll stay.
perhaps a girl
who loves unashamedly
and naked and like an ember
like a forest fire
like a jellyfish
like a navigator of the seas
like a throbbing heart
like a delicate daughter,
perhaps everything all at once
everything and everyone that ever breathed in my vicinity
perhaps an amalgamation of all the creatures leaping in my chest,
scraping at my rib cage—thoughts dying to be uttered
said
muttered.

perhaps no one.

the house i grew up in
festered with a body—a garden perpetually filled with weeds
the rainwater refused to fall
the roof caved in
stricken with a sense of unending
discouragement

i miss the poor girl i used to be
who smiled after she tasted her salty tears.
she tried to seek the positive out of situations.
the chains in the train yard wouldn’t dare shackle to her.
she stayed locked—unwillingly—in a strangulation cage meant for wild animals.
she couldn’t scream or thrash
for the danger she faced was inside her own home
grappling with the concept of his nature
bound into his fibers of being
chasing a reason for such cruelty that was instilled on me

when these songbirds are trying to explain to me
the own reality that confronts me.
like a shark to its ****,
eating so slowly, so monstrously
without a care.
anger is a ghostly emotion—apparently—and i was told that my entire life.
you can’t make mistakes for things you can’t help
or you can’t hurt someone because you didn’t mean to.
you didn’t mean to hurt me, so the stain on my mind doesn’t exist, right?
the pain i have endured, it doesn’t mean a thing.

nights staying up
praying for a difference
praying for deliverance
scared to wake up the next morning
scared the beast would crawl in between the walls
and plant itself into a vase inside my room.
woke up to crashing, banging, screaming, flailing, falling, yelping, sobbing, screeching.
living in an intricate world faced with devastation.

left me alone in empty bedrooms
arms around my kneecaps
clambering about for stability
for refuge
devoid in a void
clumps of hair collapse onto the floor
with a sore scalp and arms
spit on weeds to stir growth in them
no seeds, no roots, no living things
sprouted from the rouge colored fluid

police sirens would go off, thinking they would finally take you away
instead it was brutal beating and
no one came to save me.
the world i felt was icy cold, with icicles plopping down from trees onto the crystallized ground where my tiny feet stood.

the beast would shred the tapestries,
drown the happiness,
banish goodness.
claws as sharp as razor blades—attached to my skin and it wouldn’t free me.

came upon purgatory with tears blamed on allergies,
weariness blamed on tiredness,
fear twisted into nervousness.
do you think the inhabitants believed me when i watched the garden soak up with water?
no, they didn’t.
and i didn’t want to believe either.
the neurons inside my brain painted as façades, shapeless and blurry
for i could not worry if i left my mind in an alleyway
bound to be found one day
by a friend; not isolation, not consternation
but something that could bring forgiveness.

but violence—it’s red and unavoidable—
haunting every cell
like a tornado whooshing along a path
paved with fresh cement and bright bloomed roses
ripping up piles of dirt
flinging it around every corner.
it knew i looked up every night to find Heaven,
gleaming in the blanket of night.
from the gold gates to the strikes of my enemies.

the mind i knew grew cold
the situation was dense, kidnapped in the notion that suffering was forever—in certain circumstances it can be—finding fault in my own soul
instead of in the soil in the battlegrounds of a labyrinth

a corpse unlike any other.
shell of an aging body
built on the foundation of red violent tendencies.
flesh of an unidentifiable creature
alone in its reality
doomed to linger.
for forever.

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.

what did it give to learn and unlearn and learn it again just to unlearn it on purpose?
what did it give to make friends strangers to make strangers friends and then turn them inside out again?
what did it give to live within a dying house without ever exposing yourself to the outside world?
what did it give to push and punch and **** the love inside you just for simply existing?
what did it give to jail the one person who gave you wings and labeled silly old you a friend?
what did it give to dig only one hole in the backyard when you knew there would be too many bodies to hide and bury?
what did it give to sing and sing and giggle and smile when it was all for nothing?
what did it give to kick the benevolent for just being there
to hold your sore arms
and hold you till the damage almost disappeared?
it lingers still without a halo hanging like a poster over the bed.
what did it give to end up being alone in the end?
what did it give to end up exactly like you had always planned?

my skin has red blotches of scaly patches all over my arms and my legs and my face and my neck and everywhere
they dwell as if they own my body and i put a do not disturb sign on my door and i locked the windows and i bolted the door to the moist ground in hopes they would never return
i thought i evicted their jaws out of my property, but they return like an unfinished disease
these skin problems linger and travel like rockets around my disgusting body
multiplying, in deadly divisions, making me claw against my skin, feeling like the human kind of razor blades

and here i am, red and angry and beyond eager to get this over with

hands are black.
eyes are red from disappointment.
one young naive heart
pursed against a window frame,
breathing misty white circles
on the glassy pane.
waiting for the rusty red car to pull up
in the drive
and she would tug on his satin shirt and plead with her satin eyes.
he would brush his sleeve over soon-expired tears
and hold her clumsy hand
by the rocking chair.
her pupils dilating, flesh smiling.
the years slip by with quick waving hands
forcing me to question my circumstance.
believing still, yet whispers are unsure.  
the blood is young, the doubt fresh,
the driveway empty, the crabapples dead.
he saunters with a limp
and can’t lift me up as far as before.
shoulders weighed heavy from guilt,
cold floors, socks with holes.
his hands are yellow, his chair all creaky.
i read the books, they inform me of wars
and i shut their dark pages with a forcefulness.
i haven’t read the letters from friends; they wouldn’t understand.
they pick blossomed fruits from singing trees
and insert their souls into eternity.
the dirt roads are quiet, the music dull and haunting,
my prized smile is a fraud, the new winter frost a sworn enemy.
by the time the day retires, the aching has only set one foot inside the house,
leaving a bare-bones home
and a shiver hovering around every corner.
i notice no deer, no sparrows, no foxes.
no signs of hope, no signs of rebirth.
i see you beside me with limbs as cold as ice
and the love we had to bury will not suffice.
there are no flowers at our graves,
only frozen branches
lingering
in a place they had not decided themselves
to lay.

and what did i become in a moment—
not an entity i ever wanted to be.
and don’t you understand
i just don’t
have it in myself anymore
to mean nothing
to those that mean everything to me.
i became someone i hate
i wait outside, on your porch,
trying to trap light through my fingers.
i wish no one had to love,
had to tiptoe around themselves,
had to transform into what they never wanted.
i wish i never desired
to be meaningful to others.
the world would be much easier.
i don’t feel understood,
i just feel empty—
like everyone else is living but
i cannot
fit the oxygen mask
around my mouth in time.
in a cruel world,
i made myself the cruelest
and how do i reconcile with that?

what else can i give,
offer up until there is just a
shadow left?
i don’t know who to be anymore
and i just need to be guided,
hand in hand.
i’m young and the world
has left me lost
and i am nothing of
what i’ve always
wanted to be.
i am nothing;
i lose that feeling until it is
back on my porch,
trying to trap light through its fingers
and i always let it in.

-(read the text in the parentheses if you care hehe)

the gates are opening
and—i don’t mean to sound crass
but the tainted and staggering woman
and the saturated spineless specimen
are ****** and plastered with poison
their corpses are decorated in holly leaves
they won’t be eligible to enter
i hate to be the pointer
the dog in the marsh
but their faces are melting
like molten lava
they will bring this disease through
the golden gates agape
i promise i am not the
burner-at-the-steak-er
i won’t aim the musket
with silver bullets
at them
and their porcelain skin
their lies are painted on them
my sore eyes make assumptions
i am shaking my throbbing finger
at your dismayed face
claiming the woman with the
squid-like back
shouldn’t enter the golden gates
but i am here
the hypocrite of the century
taking accountability
but only in privacy
i should be tossed out of the
weightless sky
not banging the gates loudly
declaring that i have a ticket
when the man in the front
says i am denied access
shrieking
demanding
appalled
who am i to say you won’t
be entering the king’s castle?
who am i to judge a soul
just as damaged as mine?
these gates were destined to
keep out stragglers
strangers
thieves
but we are catfighting
because we both think
our ways are more superior
this is such a waste of energy
how dare us both avouch
that our paths to our houses
are the correct ways to travel
ah—yet he took the road less traveled by
and surely got through
to the other side
i might know for sure
that i have the right code
to the front door
but i shouldn’t assert my dominance
on such a similar being as me
leave it up to the guard
(the one with slicked back hair
and a watercolor smile
the one with medallion teeth
and jewelry sculpted from
lemon grass, brass and gold)
at the opening of the golden gates
to call upon us disoriented people
(or illusions as i call us)
and punish and kiss and love and miss
those who
are plunging to their eternal death
the guard will decide
and i don’t think i will make it out
fully alive
or at least without a single rash
or cause of decay
or a single slap on the back for
not trying hard enough
(not a pat on the back as i would
hope for at minimal
for
getting to breathe
the same air as saints and
“paying their way” passengers)
but anyway
the women and i will give
each other fair grins
and maybe even shake twisted hands
mending the wounds we caused
by (maybe) being ignorant?
my wings will start to be restored
but i know i will probably
tumble to my eternal demise
just like the same people
who tried to dictate
other’s lives
or tried to play the guard
in a playwright
dangling the keys
but not taking the time to
review the sign up sheets
hypocrites!
(i included)

the weak have never been strong
or maybe they’ve been strong too long,
holding on
to something that makes them quiver.
being loved,
does it feel impossible when the night swallows you whole and spits you up?

has it been love this entire time,
this entire period of sulking in haziness?
there are saviors on each corner
singing pretty lies
but they’ll never save me as you had.
there’s been apprehension
since the dawn of time
but this time,
i just wanted you to be sure of something.

the weak have never been strong;
never have i been able to lift myself off the edge of the cliff.
i’m extending both arms to you
as if you’ll save me once and once again
a masterpiece strewn on ***** carpet,  
a death rattle heard from the backyard.

my lungs do not know love,
but they understand fear.
nothing is meant to be.
i turn to dust.
i hear sirens in my ear,
has it been love this entire time?
some creature that was eating away at my heart
that i had to **** in order to stay alive.

that some creature always looked suspiciously like you.

i am continually alone in a crowded room
an immovable mass.
the time creeps
slow with a soft begging—a hard press.
it hurts my bones to sit still
and the time won’t move
won’t move
won’t move.
it doesn’t move ever
and i’m sick, bland, and alone
i don’t need sound to fill the space,
but this pains me in a way i cannot describe.
i have sat in crowded rooms with the pain pounding on my stomach
and i look like a strange life form that doesn’t belong
and everyone else does
and that’s why it is astronomically harder.
the silence is permanent; it will seldom leave my side
it’ll leave me in its wake and i’ll be a body
lost to the immense unknown of the ocean
wash up on your shore
and you can hold me
and you can tell me the quiet doesn’t make me who i am?
you said, “it’s not in your bones—the need to speak everything you feel”
and i just told that to myself because i have myself to hold.
my loneliness is everlasting and violent
i belonged and i ruined that image for myself.
my slow ability to start feeling like myself around people i adore
but i mess it up every single time.
i continually hold my tongue for fear of faux judgement.
THEY AREN’T GOING TO HURT YOU
THEY INVITED YOU PLACES
THEY CALLED YOU SWEET AND FUNNY
AND YOU MATTERED TO THEM
AND YET YOUR TSUNAMI WAYS DROWNED EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM.
YOU DESTROYED THEM.
YOU DEMOLISHED THEIR VILLAGES
AND DEVASTATED THEIR LAND.
YOU ARE EVIL.