i feel called
to go

the wind whispers
fantastical tales
about a life
with no attachments
just going

i want to run out in the streets
and call
into the void

take me away

oh, how nice that would be
to be free

my legs are crumbling underneath me
but I’m still walking
my hands are shaking
but I‘m still typing
my lung are collapsing
but I’m still breathing

my anxiety might be able to hurt me
but it will not **** me

the water in my body
has seeped into my lungs
each breath is harder than the last

i wonder
when i will drown

things are piling
on my aching body
forms to fill out
deadlines upon deadlines
making sure I can do what makes me happy
thinking about the future
makes me want to cry
and a birthday party
sounds out of the question right now
it's not like anyone would want to come anyway
I want to scream at myself
for waiting too long
to do anything
I'm so stupid

swimming has always felt
like a sweet escape from my thoughts
focusing on the rhythm
of my arms and legs and lungs
working in sync
and all i can hear
is the splashing water

however
sometimes my anxiety learns how to swim
and i hear the voice in my head
you have things to do
this isn't productive
you piece of garba-
but
they're swept away by the current
until i have to dry off
but for the time
i have peace

isn’t regret
such a funny thing?
the intense desire
to change what you’ve done
that turns into
self-hate

The morning spring sun
shines through the wide school windows
hitting pale walls and shining desks
discolored red
red that was exploded free
along with bullets and hate
and now
the excitement for the waiting summer
has turned to waiting fear
waiting
to be known
as the dead

whispers
behind my back
isn’t she so annoying?
my naive self
just eager to love
to have good friends
was i just
a pity friend?
someone you felt bad for?
this is what it has always been
no matter who decides
to take me in
i’m always just
a pity friend

i despise
what I’ve done with
this meat prison i’m trapped in
fat collected everywhere
sides, arms, and legs
like pools of self-hatred
i want to tear and rend
cut the fat off this body
until i don’t look horrible
but i’m too cowardly
to feel real pain
i have tried
to throw the food out
after it was already consumed
but that never worked
i’m even a failure
at destroying my body

i am not soft
i am not cute
i am horrific
body so fat
and so ugly

Hello, Poetry?
have you come to save me?
take me in your sweet, painful grasp
rip open my heart and soul
and let them drip on the dim screen
of my phone at 1 a.m.

thank you for the sweet release
of emotions that gathered
like flocks of birds
inside my head

my anxiety haunts
the 100+ poems i’ve made
but that’s better
than my head instead

i’ve fallen in love
with spilling words
even though sometimes
it hurts
so thank you
Hello, Poetry

Every morning
every night
everyday i feel like throwing up
my stomach hurts and begs
to be emptied again
but nothing
ever works
not fingers down the throat
not dry heaving for ages
not even drinking salt water
all these things just make it worse
i just want the pain to stop
end
i’m so done
with hating eating
hating myself
and my ******* anxiety
for making me so sick

the weapons i use against myself
are ones that can’t be hidden
or taken away
it’s me
my hands
that i’ve turned against myself
the only things that make me think of pain
are long, sharp fingernails

even now i can’t scratch an itch
without my fingers digging into my skin
for the last two years
the only touches my stomach and sides
have felt
are soft strokes deciding a path
then sharp, sudden stings
so even after stopping for months
touches to my sides and stomach
make me flinch

i said i would never do it again
i’m a *****, rotten liar
but drastic times
call for drastic measures
and i refuse to let my pain
be more then the person
that should really be hurting
and although i think i’m justified
the red rash covering my upper arms
says that i’m just a liar
that loves to feel pain

There is a story I was told
about a sickly girl who thought
in her feverish, superstitious mind
that when the last leaf on the tree outside her hospital window
fell and died
she would too

Her friend was horrified
and tried to convince her otherwise
as the doctor said
this pessimistic attitude
would **** her
and when her efforts didn’t work
the friend stood by her side
through the night and the storm
that shook the tree outside
to comfort her

However
that last leaf outside
never fell
surviving even through the worst storm
and the sickly girl
became sickly no longer

And as the friend found out
while helping the doctor
gather one of his dead patient’s things
this sickly, drunkard man who had died
she learned
he had heard the sick girl’s story
and
this stranger went out that stormy night
(even though it would guarantee his death
sooner than it would’ve been)
and painted that last leaf on
so that sick girl
would have hope

So I ask you
Are you the sickly girl?
superstitious and waiting
for your last leaf to fall
Are you the friend?
Desperately trying to give your friend hope
but being there when all is lost
Or are you the stranger
Realizing that you need to do something with your limited time
and expecting nothing in return

the wind roars
with patches of rain
covering cracked sidewalks
it was warm this spring morning
perfect for a picnic
or walking your hyper dog
but now the warmth is smothered by rain
and there's even a freeze warning tonight
so I guess
I'll be staying inside

Selfishly stringing stupid sentences
together to tell tomfoolery
the jokes are jeering
only a fool would find such a failure
so I stew in my slip up
Wondering when
My mistakes will make
our entire end

While walking my dog
I passed by a dead frog
s q u i s h e d  f l a t
like the world had finally
fallen on it
I almost mistook it for a leaf
and jumped away at the last second
to not step on its disfigured body
more concerned about my shoes
and whether my dog wanted to eat it
then the frog's death
so I left it
on the road
not even bothering to bury it
or push it into the ditch
I didn't want to get my shoes *****
I would go back
but it's probably decayed by now
so I just sit in my regret
and how easily we dismiss
the little tragedies all around us

A hurting generation
of broken children
we are the end of this
alphabet of problems
our future is hopeless
full of student loans
and a job crisis
the millennials have
warned us so

So we dull our pain
with jokes and memes
ridiculed by older people
but we know that
our future is dull and
filled with hardship
so let’s make our now
bright and fun
and most of all
a good memory
for when things get hard