Breath catches
Snatched away
Hidden from lungs
for two whole days.

Company's good, but
Lonesome brings pain
Seek camouflage alone in
The rain.

Looking for comfort
but who the hell cares?
College is noise, loud boys
and glares.

People look to unload
Upon you their stuff,
not knowing that you already
have had quite enough.

Feeling fatigue
Teachers all laugh
"If you're really this lazy
how are you going to pass"

Chest lights flame
and head hurts like hell
Counting the hours
until there goes the bell.

Going to dance
to search for release
You weren't to know,
it now only brings grief.

Everything hurts,
***** are too large.
Your back feels the strain
as you stumble adage.

Everyone brings pity
but no one brings hope
and those who don't know
keeping chucking you rope.

I won't give up,
I refuse to give in
I'll staple once more
to my mouth a grin.

Repeat the mantra
alone in your head
Try to stay afloat,
rebirth the undead.

You can do it,
you've done it before.
At least this time,
you know not to ignore
Yourself

Think First About Your Health.

I'm such a stupid, ******* ****.
I can't even understand the scraps of bits,
filtered down to me in pointless,
yet so joyful, years.
I am literally straining both my ears,
but nothing seems to work
Instead of elegance, I can only ****
My body on broken strings,
Muscled, contoured body caving in,
with the effort of outside fighting within.
Everything is now designed to aesthetically bounce,
rather than glide, sweat glistening with
shattered pride,
I'm desperate to ride this one way trip again,
Feel it all again
Be me again.

I used to perform with ease
The lightest leaf balancing on the breeze
of a blood layered toe.
No one was to know of injury but
me.
Who seemed to others to be
Perfection
But now all I can see is a tainted reflection
of what I once was.
What I once had.

My elegance is stolen from me,
leaving me littered with normality.
Ballet Dancer no more.
Years of Blood and Gore,
leave nothing but a memory
A grainy DVD
A well preserved shoe.
The art form that I stuck to like skin to super glue
is gone.
And, to be honest, I don't know how to go on without it.
I never truly stopped to doubt it.

Ripped from me
Stripped from me
Leaving me bare,
leaving me confused and scared.

I feel desolate without it.

I'm in dire need of
An I.V full of tea.

Hook me up.

And so I'm curled up in your
Old t-shirt, wishing I
Could hold you.
My something blue,
My something borrowed from
Our platonic whole,
You'll always be the one that I
Call: mine.
Because I'll always be yours,
Come rain or shine.
Come anything.

I'm yours.

There is a pressure in someone needing you,
a pressure many of you will know.
It's the expectancy that you can bring to
them, some otherworldly glow.
Even though you feel your own light dimmed,
they still wish for you to help them with theirs,
unaware that others face issues too.

Sometimes you need escape, from
everyone and everything.
Sometimes you need...normality. Sometimes.

What can I give you?
You're busy, well, I'm busy too,
busy-ness and stress are not things
specific only to you.

There is only so much I can do.
When I have work, and
family and
friends and I haven't
seen Dad in weeks and
everything is laying
once again in tatters, as always,
but never mind because all that
matters is that there
is always that
one last thing to
mend.

That one thing.
Sometimes it's me,
sometimes it's a boy or girl,
sometimes it's a friend
or a loved one
or an unfixable object.

Sometimes, darling, it's you.

You have no idea how much I want to help you.

I'm trying. Give me that.
Fine, I ****** up, but
I'm human too.
I'm imperfect and selfish, but
so is everyone,
including you.

I am no angel, you thought
too much.
I have fought, and will continue
to fight on your side, but I'll
not abide you placing on
me so much pressure,
I cannot always be the cheshire
cat of smiles, cannot always be
lost, cannot always be drifting.
Sometimes I'm just tired, over worked
but happy.
Which isn't so bad to be.

I don't like people seeing me weak,
I detest the fact that I turn
so meek at the mere sight of
people.
I don't want you to pity me.

I want you to be my friend.
You are my friend,
I've given you my trust,
why can't you see how tough
that was to give?
I'm not about to give up on you,
so don't give up on me.

I enjoy spending time with you,
love laughing at your jokes,
messing with your gelled up hair
and thinking that, for a couple of minutes,
I took away the cares that bothered you.

You cannot disbelieve that which is true.

Darling, sometimes I need space,
I need sleep and peace, with
no pressure to be perfect.
Sometimes I cancel plans, but
there is always a reason, a valid excuse,
and I would rather I
didn't turn to find abuse for this.

When I've had to go to a funeral and,
for once, would like someone near at
night, which recently has caused me fright to be alone,
the right response is
to wish for my boy to be near.

So I did. I told you. I felt bad.

I feel sad that you're aching,
but everybody hurts.

After a bonfire, when I
can't get back til late, and
I feel tired and weighted down
with aches and bruises, I tend
to lose my wish to hitchhike
home, so that I can feel bad
for feeling sleepy.
So I can feel bad for keeping
you waiting.

In that moment, all I want is
coffee, and near
friends and tea.

Whatever you wanted me to be,
it wasn't human.
It wasn't me.

Fine, I'm ****,
I'm a ***** and
a ***, and obviously
don't care at all, but after
all these years I have the
***** to say something to
your face (well..computer screen).

Don't you dare erase me.
Not after all of this.

I'm dyslexic, naturally
disorganised, my sense of
time and calendar is catastrophic and
I'm forever full of work and
dance and sleep.

But you're going to keep me,
please,
because I don't deserve to be
ditched.

If you don't agree, then you're the *****.

My mind is alight with the science of
philosophy, and psychology.
Words skitter through a brain
filled with
matter,
lightness and
dark.
The sparks of ideas start
to flicker with a sparkling start.

There is fire in my head.

It's dancing red, and blue, with heat
As Ideas greet and meet,
merging with unsuppressed joy of
freedom of thought
The ideas that they wrought made of
soft iron, unlike stone, it
lies malleable and warm
to touch.

My mind is full of muchness and
must
Grow and
Learn and
Play, to and further,
than the end of my days.

There are no walls here.
No boundaries of dread hang near,
ready to clutch me.
Within my concepts I am free

Memories and body,

far away from me.
I can only be human within my frame.
I am free of responsibilities, snipped
from processes of blame...
you cannot judge within here
Where everything is far too clear
to be
Simplified in black and white.
Why do people say go into the light?
Because there's safety in certainties,
but once in the dark
the starkness of reality is clothed
in cloth
not morals, but mechanics.
Softer, less ugly to probe and feel.

It isn't always so simple judging just
what's real.

I'm having an attack
and I don't know who to
call.
I don't know if I'll
ever break down
these walls of
social insecurity.
"Who would want to listen to me?"
Listen to me ramble,
and scramble for
footholds.
Watch me fold in
on myself,
shelfing mentally the
moment
the date
the weight of this
particular distress.

Give me a minute,
I'll just compress it.

Target 1: learn to admit
when you need help.