happy birthday to the best friend who left me in the dust. who left me to fend for myself and my frail bones. i guess i am wishing you a happy birthday from an app whilst your new friends are probably throwing you a rager, but i am not mad. i am never mad at you.

some of the best memories and moments that came from you; they sure aren’t the same:
you told me about stranger things, that was the first i heard from it. now the fourth season has come out and i haven’t heard a peep. and don’t even think i forgot about how you told me the entire plot and how scared you were in your little bedroom in your old and memory filled house. how the horror lined your bones and made you tense. and you couldn’t forget it even as the night air twinged your skin. it stung a little as you begged to forget you ever saw the demagorgan or realized will was missing.
i still watch the dang show.

you and i trampled around in the woods with my older sister who you were super close with because i couldn’t leave her alone. you ate some snow and i told you it would be *****, but you said it’s clean.
don’t eat the yellow kind.

my teacher and you had the same birthday. as well as donald trump. but he doesn’t matter. you laughed with her and showed her your teeth. must be nice to be birthday buddies with someone. someone who desired to be.
you better wish her a happy birthday.

i was jealous back in fourth grade because you liked leah better...or so i thought. you sat on the opposite end of the table although i told you to set yourself by me. it bothered me. walls of jealousy put up just because i realized that was the first time i had low self esteem. a picture of you and i at the lunch table still made the year book.
leah was in it though.

sleepovers at your house. that same stupid house. in a different town than you live now. by the pit bulls you told me about as soon as you moved in. you better have gotten that pepper spray to ward them off. anyway, i brought my sleeping bags and threw em’ in your mother’s car. you played basketball and i had to watch from the sidelines. with your dang mom and dad. your dog ate our popcorn when we clothed it in salt cause of course God gave me allergies to everything i can see. we laughed so hard our stomachs hurt. or the time when you invited all your sporty friends from other schools and they made me uncomfortable. they were too mature and riskay for my nine year old liking. we watched the sand lot.
i am on the bench.

and it’s your birthday. another year has passed and you’re still gone. i think it’s too surreal for me to handle, so i keep writing you little notes (or long ones) hoping you’ll stumble your way back to me.
i still miss you but

happy birthday for now

when i skipped in the street
and you blinked your flashlight fifteen times at me
my high beams bursting through the windows of the neighbors,
i started to feel like she wrote those songs for us
and for our teenage recklessness.
can you teach me how to stay,
how to sit still and just love
with no shame and no repercussions?
because how are you so close in my rearview mirror
and then so much farther than you appear?
i would’ve cranked the heater, the same for you
the same simple cares
that you bestowed on
someone as wretched as me.
i would’ve called you my favorite person,
denying your insecurities and making them seem insignificant,
just as you had.
i would’ve laid in your lap retrieving my phone
as we laugh with our entire stomachs
and your friend says there must be something between us;
how does that make you feel?
i would’ve said it was finally time to go if i saw you sleeping,
almost too tired to drive home.
i would’ve asked you to drive safely for fear of deer around,
the same as you had.
i would’ve invited you to my cracking house,
just as you did,
answering the doorbell and smiling,
“you can take your shoes off”

“i love you as you are”

hopeless romantic here.
hi.
i know you probably tell your parents that love doesn’t feel like it does in the movies
it’s overrated
i am guessing that’s what you say
but i
ok, maybe i am naive
but i
i don’t think love will feel like it does in the movies either
it will be better
and i hold that hope in my heart
that one day i will walk out of a restaurant
and i will see a familiar face
because soulmates are real
(the ones who don’t have them, or so they say, their partner died or couldn’t cross the layer between love and selfishness)
they are real
i think so at least
call me stupid
hopeless romantic
yes,
that’s me
i don’t get offended by that name
i swear it gets better than this
it gets better
love makes it better
it might be hard
but what have you ever done that was worth your time that wasn’t hard?
huh?
i want another person to be my safety, my rock, my eternity
bathe me in their river
cause it gets better
it does get better
and love makes it better

please
take all the time you need with me
i have been waiting for forever
what’s a couple more weeks?

my father hasn’t been himself,
i’m piling clothes on each shelf
while the cold is attaching its lifeless embrace around my thighs that are too big
and a stomach too normally abnormal.
i write about living,
i try to live for writing;
always end up living for nothing.
maybe the ache seems like a home,
or a house
i just passed on the open road.
constantly familiar since a younger version of me
opened the vault
and it slipped out.
my eyes haven’t watered the flowers underneath my bed
since the summer came and went.
love came knocking at the front door;
the latch wouldn’t open up.
now every car makes it look as if it’s him behind every wheel.
i pass that house with a sore throat—
a lump in the back;
something’s unraveling inside of me.
i am neither tall nor strong,
every sadness almost takes the breath out of me
and i haven’t been like myself,
but when have i ever?

they tore down the pool in my hometown
the place i went during the summer to cool off
my old stomping ground to go for fun
my childhood is slipping further and further away
every single day

i met you in the flesh of an early morning
swinging on rainforest vines
sparkling san francisco golden gate haven
sun, so radiant yet so tranquil

i met you, hazy with some byproduct of devotion
i was standing in rapture
an echo of aspiration
and restoration
an outline of a happiness that somehow seemed like closure

i met you, a symbolic glimmer
drunk in your joyousness
meeting as the morning dew barely dries from the damp grass
blue eyes like sapphires, like rubies, like gold

i was struck with akrasia
i forgot how to shake hands
i mumbled between my teeth
i met you, so shimmery, so wonderful
so full of mirth
     and
      i
      lost
      yet
      another
      thing
      to
      my
      greed
      and
      selfishness

do you go by some pseudonym at this moment in time?
i can’t find you in the rainforest trees, rains, or vines
you can’t be lost
forever

i am daft and i am dominoes crumbling
and i am
debris
from a rotted sea

and you are faithful and cheerful and jolly and dopamine rushes
and how dare i quell the moonlight inside you

if you have broken hands, i promise i will fix them
if you have died and went to Heaven
i dare you to send me
a safe haven of angels who all know my name
a safe haven of ballerinas loose on a stage
a safe haven of happiness where songbirds dance and dancers sing
a safe haven where violets bloom after the gloom
i hope your absence doesn’t contribute to the atrophy of my being

but if it does,
i least i met you for a little while
in the carcass of a morning apparition

scared of the dark and of fire swallowing me in the middle of the stubborn night
setting my closet ablaze
shirts turning to embers as i slept beneath the smoke
and we would have to stand by the mailbox
but someone was always left behind.
it usually ended there.

but my restlessness soon turned into a snowflake, falling from the chilled sky
onto the mailbox outside my house
and melting.

my writing is a gigantic forest fire of clichés
slowly charring in my eye view.
unlike the snowflakes that flew from
my brain.

and i’m still kind of scared of the looming darkness
and the creatures inside of my closet
still kind of worried about my house catching fire
and losing all my belongings
but what’s to that?
what do i actually own or belong to?

blue is blinded rage

fear lasts and i can’t breathe in this smoke…in this chemical kingdom…that they all love…smog and smoke and strangulation….and no one cares…?

cause elvis still kept singing jailhouse rock
even though he never went to jail
and the seas are still operating in the exact same way they always have been
celebrities still think they’re all that cause us feeble people put them on pedestals
the moon is still a refuge to lost stars spread upon the frivolous lands
fire still burns, even at night
even in your closest
even if you think you’re safe by your mailbox
even if people tell you that you’re worth
it

the smoke will envelop you
the smog will catch up to you
the ashes will become you


….
i’m afraid it will take away what i don’t have

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.

how i wish to be a harp note in a russian symphony
how i wish to be a dragon, longer than six feet
how i wish to be the line that is on that narrow face
how i wish it wasn’t that easy to find someone to replace
me
how i wish the moon would stop and tell me the truth
how i wish i heard Jesus’s name from the mouth of you
how i wish that we didn’t have to lose some seeds along the way
how i wish the death would come fast and then be on its way
how i wish my hands weren’t so shaky when i speak
how i wish the words that slip from my lips didn’t puncture me
how i wish time could slow down just for me to catch a break
how i wish the sea would settle down when i am in its wake
how i wish i could be more
how i wish you could adore
me
how i wish this world was more forgiving
how i wish i could fly
how i wish i knew why
how i wish i would stop wishing for an end
to something that just began

you eat flesh in a cleaned room
with a seaside view.
you devour the world
(or so you think)
with a single swallow.
in dreams that feel like
apparitions,
you appear.
you clutch your ego against your chest
as if it’s a blessing.
your iron lung fills my head
with black smoke.
i envy those who can say no.

recently,
i apologize on the behalf of other people.
you’re smiling with blood in your teeth
the enamel worn through,
yellow in color.
staying afloat has become impossible.
you’re the ambushing shark
in a pool of my nerves and tissues.
somehow drowning with your fangs
around my rouge shadow.

your ego has eaten you alive.
you push against the walls of your pursuer.
it chokes back your spinal cord.
completely empty,
betrayed by your own creation
you must be angry
while i sit and watch,
blood on my lips,
solid foundation.

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

i am not your dog; do not pet me once, then expect my loyalty.
i am not the woman in your dreams
completing your r.e.m sleep.
i am not your dog, do not train me once, then expect me to behave.
i am not a slave
to your blaze
to the fire on your tongue.
i am love personified.
i am a pain unresolved,
but free.

i missed his party so i didn’t get to see you
   and i write as if you hear my anguish
   as if you care enough to listen
**** it, i would give you my poems to read
    i miss you
    because without you, i blame it on myself
perhaps we were made to break
   to crack on hardwood floors and windows
   to grow apart as the famine destroys
i missed his party because i was sick
   so we didn’t get to mend our relationship
   and our beaten hearts are ruined

      i missed his party so now i miss you

ice is sharp and cold and you don’t wanna get frostbite during the winter months
i never wanted to step on the cracks
i never wanted to fall in so deep
painfully sobbing and at the very edge of drowning
i never wanted to get hypothermia from my fatal accident
i only wanted to step over the cracks
and return safely to the promised land of warm beds and train tracks

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

i don’t want to be a well,
that you only lower water down to
once a day,
or less if it storms.
when it rains,
i imagine i’m swimming in your tears,
soaked to the bone
in your dna.
i don’t want to be a well,
a stone foundation only standing
cause it’s expected to.
don’t wanna hold your secrets
and keep them;
i’m terrified of echoing stone walls.
i don’t want to be a well,
that’s only necessary if you’re thirsty.
when it rains,
you have other methods of drinking.
i don’t want to be a well,
far away from your home,
not part of your warm family.
i don’t want to be a well,
a cavern so deep
you can’t see
the bottom.
i need to be known entirely,
researched and studied,
so carefully,
that they’d cry if they spilled
liquid on me.
i don’t want to be a well,
that dries up in a drought,
so easily forgettable,
if it’s not needed around.
i don’t want to be a well,
i want to be well,
i want dinners inside, keep me alive,
not outside with the rainy season,
the growls and howls of wild beasts
untamed for such a quiet thing
as me.
i don’t want to be a well,
but i’m well over my head,
tripping over my own feet,
clunked with buckets constantly.
i want to be warm,
kept in from the cold,
the snow doesn’t know me;
i don’t know its fury.
would you get to know me,
if i wasn’t providing you energy
and love and my own sanity?
would you consider banishing
me?

what does this mean?
****** palms, downtrodden expressions?
i don’t want you to **** me
with your ****** palms and deep dagger-like fangs
pulsing veins are black
i’ve lost my home
do you think of me when the silence is all you hear?
perhaps lying there do i seem worthwhile even for a second?

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

if you love my writing, i’ll love you

i wanna feel your hands
on my body
like poetry
stanzas and alliterations
upon my guilty skin

your eyes twinkle
and they sing
i’m sure you would be good at writing
we could exchange ideas
paint words vividly
but maybe you do write out of
your own accord
i don’t actually know you, forgive me

i am tired of being invisible
know me
let me know you
in a way that no one else knows you
a way that is secretive
but capable

i’ll write your wrongs
and right down the street
are my open arms
to hold you in spite of the horror
to build you sanctuary
to construct buildings out of
your bulging eyes
hold me as well

i am not a handful
whatsoever
          just kidding

but whatever
let me be your muse
that way i can live forever in
hardback books and film screens
so i don’t doze off one day and leave
no memories
that way
you’ll always have me

i can stamp you on paper and
keep you in the paragraphs
and
line breaks

i can sketch your eyes into crystal *****
fortune tell for the distant future
inside of our tightly held palms

i will love every square inch of your
olive oil skin
and every ounce
of your soulful soul

i’ll write you into metaphors
about the land, sea, and animals
scream your name at the top of my
lungs until
you magically appear
i’ll wipe your tears
and
toss em’ off your pillowcase
read you bedtime stories about
how the moon adores the tides so
much, but they change every time
  she
    moves

also how the sun stopped shining
and ruined his true love
with the earth
and ever since then, all citizens
get burned in extra passionate heat
he wanted to make it up to her.
but he can’t.

please adore the way i draw the
rhyming into poetry
fantasize about me smiling on a bridge
in Chicago
so tiny in comparison to the
skyscrapers
that cling to the clouds
almost touching Heaven
(they think so)

be my muse
if not from closeup
at least far-away
or
at least
at arms length
cause
i wanna feel your chilly
hands grace my body
like choirs in unison
looovvvvveeeeee mmmmeeeee

(or at least like my poetry)

(you don’t even have to like me)

(just read it)

you like the wild type
rides in your car
lipstick stains on your leather seats
beer breath
headbangers playing guitar
tiny skirts
playful smirks
driving 100 miles in a 70
tabletop dances
soft fingertips
bloodshot cherry red eyes

but honey,
i spend my days in bed
dreaming of love,
butterflies and honeysuckles
my shorts are not too short
i don’t gaze longingly at random men
in public
i listen to boy bands
don’t leave lipstick stains
in stranger’s cars
i get to know people first

you like the wild type
but you could always give me a try
i can be wild in some ways
like going camping
and kissing for a few seconds
tackle me in the haystack
hold me like you wish you
never would have touched anything else
we don’t need late night ***** sessions
after getting obliterated
we can share hotel rooms
and sleep in separate beds
to keep it cutesy
road trips across the country
off-roading
while obeying the speed limit
contentment spreading across the flowers
and it reaches the sky

you know,
i’m not the original wild type
but i can go wild and crazy for you anytime

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'll drink it down:
the unmanageable pain
and lose my worth in the process.
the strength i’ve tried to pretend to have
since i was a little child
who discovered not having love
defines me.
i was always undeserving,
just once someone told me i wasn’t
that i could be happy
and foolish me believed them.
i’ll drink it down:
get wasted to forget
to change myself so that i am unrecognizable.
i believed in miracles,
but perhaps that was naïve.
i’ll drink it down:
the sorrow until it is one with my skin
until it is buried,
until it is unrecognizable.
until that is all i am.

i’ll once believe we have something, some kind of ember
some kind of fire that doesn’t scare itself
some kind of blaze that never escapes
that keeps growing and forming and whistles all day.
there’s some kind of weather
that makes me colder
and you, warmer.
some kind of change blowing through the summer air
some kind of new wind unheard of from here.
there’s some kind of vigor i wish i had
that you do  
and it’s so easy to get swept up in the current of you.
no matter where i swim, the tide carries me down the wet sullen stream.
i’m back in the heart of things,
something is grabbing my pant leg;
it can’t be shaken.  
i float down the river,
weaving our love into baskets to send off to the water.
i’ll once believe we have something
when you pull my shaking body out from the water,
wrap me in a towel
and place me by the fire.

near some kind of ember
floating till its death.

𝙞 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮
𝙞 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪
𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙
      ❞𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨
       𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣
       𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙
       𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜  
       𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙚
       𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙭𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙚
       𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚.❞
𝙞 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙
𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙛
𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧
𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣
       ❞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩
         𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚.❞
𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙
         ❞𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢.❞
𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢, 𝙣𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝
         ❞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.❞
𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣
          ❞𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨
           𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙮 𝙪𝙥, 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙮, 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙩
           𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧...❞
𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨
𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨
𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧
𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙
𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮
𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚
𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚
𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡
𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚
𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙

𝙞 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮
𝙡𝙚𝙩’𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙮
         𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 :)

in an unstable way and way that is incapable
to recover from
i am incapacitated
weak stringy sick
poles for legs
twisted ankles
that don’t stand up
out of their own will
but by the unruly gravity
of planet earth
the clock strikes august
intake watched,
just parsnips
upon shaky lips
hesitant to chew
with the fear of a black hole—
endless unhappiness in all manners
inside of me
is a miserable mechanic
who keeps drilling
and replacing
and hollering
for continuously
i have lowered my brow
and combusted
leaving pieces of machinery
burnt and ruined
for his sore hands to
pick them up
and work away
slaving precious days away

your muted applause
in a vacant miscalculated amphitheater.
if it makes noise,
i don’t hear it.
if it doesn’t,
i’ll pretend to.
i’ll tie your vapid words to my feet
and sing with the past fallen civilizations.
at least we’ll have something in common.
envy like ivy,
creeping up the walls
of my abandoned house in the
middle of the woods.
i’ll preach for the choirs
singing my guts out
for the fakers and
gladiators who all doubt my strength
cause’ pull away when you feel like the plot for ****** is starting to include your name.
somehow it doesn’t stain bitter snakeskin,
it only brings closure to being with who i don’t
consider to listen to
all the notes carried
so forcefully.
my stage is starless,
gotta confess that
the acoustics are awful;
forgot to smile.
you would’ve listened
if you really wanted to.
you would’ve licked the seal of the envelope
mailed it to me
to show your gratitude
and your generosity.
but instead you sit forging
your own signature
on the corpse of this friendship
while i cry over spilled milk
and birthday cake smudges
over tile floors
too repulsed to mop anymore.
too unhinged to care anymore.
too alive to be killed by your sword.
too loud, but not loud enough
for the sound to travel to your eardrums.
still, it’s not much to ask for you to just move
a little closer.

need a friend?
the doubts live inside of me like citizens
that walk slowly in courthouses ready to sue.
all their passions are out of wack,
they only know how to survive by shooting down others.
every hollow house i was led to, hand in hand,
as i trusted you to guide me.
i need a friend.
i need the fever, the fire, the rage, the shooting star, the red seething blood.
any warmth to remind myself of tenderness,
even if it is without at the core.
i need anticipatory silence, waiting your filthy hands to slap the dinner table and i rush to clean the shattered plates.
don’t hurt me,
be gentle,
don’t make me smaller.
make me smaller,
make me writhe,
make me smaller,
quieter, less of a burden.
be responsive,
make me spill.
i need a friend.
the panic has large hands that choke me,
has a large frame to push me deep
and never lift me out.
though, i will not make do with violence,
i am not silent when it comes to love that festers.
need a friend?
the breaths i take will be for you.
the day is wicked
and you are so tender,
i would like this meal to be filling,
i would like you to stay a while.

hold me because it’s achingly difficult.
you jumped out a window
and landed face-first into the squishy grass
i would have caught you,
but it was too late.
somehow it always is.
i jumped into your arms,
but your body was so cold.
a starved mind, a clueless nomad
i sink into bathtubs
and i don’t have organs
i am an invisible skeleton.
i wear shoes
that are too
tight around my ankles
and my legs hate each other
and i hate them too—
what a disgraceful feud.
somehow when i touched you,
you melted into the background
of the stage i wasn’t aware that i consented to.
permission overlooked
forgiveness not a given.
this is the end.
perhaps not what i had envisioned—
not that it matters.
it doesn’t.
i’m picking blots in my bloodstream.
the popping forehead ventricles
the insanity so familiar
and so homely.
home-cooked meals, hearts drawn out onto my back.
it’s too late for me to me to say i’m sorry
or to pray for myself.
it’s too late to love.
i insist
but the road i walk down is dusty chemicals
and your hand is not placed precisely in mine.
it’s too late this time.
somehow it always is.

am i inherently evil cause of my skin color?
do these blue eyes define evil in the shadow of brown eyes?
why must i feel ashamed for my pale skin?
i didn’t chose to be in this body.
didn’t chose to look this way.
half of the time i wanna punch myself in the face and turn purple so my skin color doesn’t protrude through my clothes.
i wanna hide in my blankets, cover my head with a bucket, my legs with a floor length gown.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
let me be someone else.
someone with browner eyes.
someone with black flowing hair.
someone with darker skin.
someone with more joy.
someone from a place prettier than here.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate who i am.
i hate it.
i hate it.
i absolutely hate it.

i am a skeleton.
you gave me your all
and all i could hand back
was a piece of my femur.
the love inside of you
makes my love seem small
i’m so ashamed
of my silence.
i walk backwards down a stairway
seeing
the walls i put up
too big too tall
for you to cross.
i need to love
but i’m too flimsy
my bones
are weak.
the love inside of you
taught me about the love inside of me
and it doesn’t have a home
since i left you a ghost
in a house by the highway.
we live a few miles from each others smiles,
dive in the pool at nighttime
the lights are so bright.
i swim with the bugs and we hold each other.
how hard is it for me
to show you what i see?
i lied for my pride—
he said we were beautiful.
the love inside of you is growing stronger
the love inside of me is begging for forever
but i have no skin
nothing to hold onto.
i killed myself briskly
if you had a word in
i wouldn’t have stopped breathing.
it’s car trips and teenage years
i want us to roam free
two kids with our bones and our aches and our loves
we can’t express
i deny till i’m upset
that you want someone else in your pool
in your house
in car rides at midnight
instead of my feet that can’t reach the pedal right.
i make things a joke and you laugh
and i know that the other girl won’t
make you lean back as you laugh,
though i don’t know this for sure.
the love inside of you is trying to call on the love inside of me
but i soiled it all.
i’m blue and i’m scared we may never be anything
except two kids with shotguns pointed at each other
though you are the bluffer
and i just don’t know how to fake anything.

you sit behind me in international studies
i never look at you
maybe you recognize me...
   maybe you often want to say my name
especially after hearing my new companions saying it
     elucidate what you are feeling
make it so i can become a ninja with you again
and laugh in the schoolyard
    you are basically dead
you wispy deserted ghost town please show me what you think about me how....
     i kissed you
and i always knew my lips were not good enough of a souvenir
  everyone forgets about me anyway
     but i always become a revenant
here forever if you open your eyes or if you don’t forget the tributes of my life....


      you sit behind me in international studies
and i will never look at you because you will never ever bother to look for me

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.

it’s so hard to stomach it
that i would feel freer without your grip
to leap from the cascade of waterfall
blood in the water
stab wound under the blouse
it’s a woman killer,
staying put.
that when it’s airplanes plummeting from the gaping sky,
or when it’s thrashing swords,
it’s better to just stay silent
or run away
but how come running away is so tricky?
to just move those little feet
and leave the ditch you lay in
for blooming gardens and sky-kissing cities
but it’s impossible.
bruises gather on satin skin
snake bites bubble
and tears slip
and
the realization hits
but doesn’t hit hard enough
and it’s just sitting in trenches
waiting for the enemy to consume
me
but it’s a slow burn
and
it burns so terribly.
i have remained unspoken
i have let the automobiles crash into my haven
i have given them a place to rest,
a place to stay in
and i
regret it.
regret meeting you
regret encouraging you
regret being anything near you.
you’ll stare at my grave in the ground
and you’ll just shrug it off,
move some dirt over it,
but it only covers the evidence
not the girl that sits
with her knees clenched
sobbing in fits
of anguish
caused by your tyrannical hunger
to give life to lonely people
and then take it away.

yet sometimes the water is calm;
there are no ripples caused by incongruity
no collapsing dams, no inundations
just peace.
and it’s safe in this place
i say
but one ever knows when rain
might be too heavy
and one never knows when their house is about to get flooded.

all i do is damage myself for you.

you make me think of unfulfilled promises
words that were never
spat out
onto the ground where the
HOMELESS lady and her
twelve children lay
in the dusk of the merciful day

you make me think of pennies skipping
and you used to smell of cinnamon
essential oils
that i know do
nothing for any
part of you
i guess that’s just what
your mom wanted

and i miss the future we imagined
together
cause although
it never happened
it feels as if it still weighs on my
heart
the responsibility to keep you alive
not in photography
but in real life

i miss when we hung out
even those times when i said “no”
should have
been
the most confident “yes”

i’ll still see you in fresh
blooming roses
in tennis shoes hanging
and walking on the tiles
in woods
deep woods with snow
lying softly
as if it wants to be gone
in the color white
and the color blue
a royal blue
a dark color of the deepest ocean
i don’t know if i would crack the ice
where you went fishing
i would find the body of yours
and save it

cause i KNOW for
CERTAIN
that you wouldn’t dare pick
me out of the
frozen water
you would leave me there
            
                                               forever

no man is an island, but all that i see is salt water for miles. its taste as bitter as a slap; i must consume it. get drunk off of it. get lost off of it. die off of it.
there are dangerous things i have loved before; myself with knives pointed backwards towards the fleshy skin of my chest. there are dangerous things i can sing lullabies to bed. dangerous things with beautiful faces and symmetrical smiles, bodies buried underneath acres of rolling fields. for an instant, the harm solely seems to be self-inflicted, a wound the size of an almond, just big enough to recall. but i have swam entire ocean lengths to be someone you’d love, someone you’d capsize a ship for, someone you’d sing lullabies to. i know now i am a hazard, built to strand you until the uncertainty devours you too. the only feeling i’ve ever truly known is to be devoured, by everything / almost as if everything i may love is meant to destroy me, leave me stranded, dehydrated and muffled. sometimes i feel as if it’s just a part of being human—something so human; so deeply human that i am not immune.