I feel like doing something horrible
But I cannot let it out
So I let it harbor
It is a blow
That I can redirect to my gut
Save you lest it collapses me

my sister is gone
and the cat is gone
and my brother is gone
and my mother's been knocked out since noon

for those of us whose arms bend backwards
I see you behind the mirror
And I know you die
The moment those headphones are in

So
I get it out of you at last
And it occurs to me for the first time
You search for that magical type of love
You, who are unbroken
I tell you, you are it for me

I dont want to start over

How can we be when you don't let me near you
How can you wish i was near when i'm 10 minutes on foot away
How can you dream i'm on your doorstep and lock your door

Once I'm on my own two feet
It'll start to make sense
I do not want to be provided for
Anymore

The ascension and depletion of self-worth
When you lose the ability to write
Relatable poetry

Time and time and time and
Time again
They guide you
And even they discover
That this isnt the answer
This isnt the answer
Every time
There is only one end

People were shuffling into the halls in tears
I turned to her and said
'I think I have apathy issues'
She told me she loved me
Squeezed my shoulder
I didnt say anymore

Firmly believing
That the past doesn't dictate your future
How do I advertise myself to you in that sense
Whatever story I have to tell
Is buried in the footprints
I left on the way here

jack white on the radio
i'm headed home,
afraid that im too far
i feel further from you, too
but too many journal entries
are my doubts
and too many closers
are testaments
of your patience with me

this is another shell
of a poem i deleted moments ago

my words have completely lost me
but even i am not gone
i am in love
and without a word
to describe this solace

2:24am and I'm sobbing on the couch
I tell her about my road anxiety
And she consoles me in my dreams
Her presence isn't a ghost
And I know I'll be alright
Even if there isn't a way of knowing
I can pretend to forget my mortality
Tomorrow is a good time to tell her
I'll be gone for Colorado the rest of the week
That I fear I'll die driving up a mountain
Or crushed under a passing truck
I'll tell her I know that the fear is irrational
tell her what happened in Bryce Canyon when I was younger
And she will understand
Telling something reassuring
It isnt only in dreams
This is the truth
I'm sobbing on the couch
Pretending I can will my way into returning in one piece
Solely for her
To see her again
To see her at all
When this is finally over

I can smell my room
See the tree from the window
And the white underneath

I hope she knows
I do it all in fear of her

A year later, I'm still terrified
In light of everything,
I dont think I'll ever find clarity

I want to make lifelong friends
And hold them close to my heart
I am grimly
And often preach my solitude
It is the strength I portray
In hopes of ironically drawing in
The affections of those who need
That sort of reliance

watching you like this is weird
through a one-sided mirror
there are moments you look straight at me
without realizing that I'm there
you forgot to turn screenshare on,
I think

I never should have said it

I think some of us are still hopeless
by the end of it
They went through a rough patch &
got over it
but not all of us can
I think some of us are born
Knowing that our end
would be the result of our own hands

Known to be fond of soft things
I can't feel the mockery
How can they tell me I'm weak
When I have you in my arms

I feel worse for my apathy
Than I do for you

I'm eating ice cream from a bowl
For the first time in a long time
How can I live to die
How have I shaped my life
For the sake of the state of death
I should leave it behind
Let myself listen to electronic music
And not feel guilty
Because it doesn't remind me of mountains

I knew from when
You shaved off your eyebrows
I knew from the stubble
I get it, you get it,
We've all heard it,
But I could swallow your eyes whole
I want to worship your cheek
Frame your face with my own
I thought I was empty
You make me dream of sitting in the rain
You remind me of my life
I want to cherish yours

I've already died

I'm tired of being told
That wanting to be loved
Is childish

I miss your handprints
I'll see them again
to leave them all the same
This time once and for all
I have made you my home
Naive,
for I knew exactly how limited
our time together would be

I'm dreading our goodbye
Cold, stonely, backstage wall

shake away my body
hustle when you tear at it
i don't want to be perceived

I feel wrong in my age
Wrong in that
To be in any other body
Than that when I was ten
Is to stretch and tear and wear me down
I am worn
I feel old
I feel my skin sagging over the muscle
The muscle sagging over the bone
I am the last breath of a murdered corpse
I am the last of my friends
The last of my family
My lack of power
Is shown through shaking fingers
Protruding bones
I am wrong

Every day
Feels like another test
To see how much more I can take

Different meanings to the passing bird
I heard you've been mentioning my name
I heard it all until 5am
I dream I'll hear it again
There was no moon today
In the place where it should usually be
At this hour
It was full the night before
The sky is clear now
I wonder what it might mean

I went on a walk
And failed to find any cool rocks

recite me sappho
through your breath
and beneath your palms

I've lately had the dream
where you look at me and ask
if I sometimes feel we were meant to be
I'm honest when I say yes

I'm choosing to no longer believe
what anyone tells me about healing
healing is not care or rest
healing
is not sleeping for a week
drinking endless amounts of coffee
writing about isolation
writing about your childhood ghost
and how you've decided
to play your own tricks with time
I am detached and livid
at the assumption that I have processed
anything they've tried to tell me

I am no identity
I am a body for the glow to rest on

Look at me worry
As if there are any consequences
Tomorrow I will fail
& so tonight, I might also, as well

I'd rather evaporate

Oh god oh
**** me **** me **** me
Devour me while I rest
Lest I wake up
I'll never worship furthermore
Where I never worshiped
In the first place

I remember hearing the words
I remember feeling found
When she spoke of isolation
When she spoke of being alone

it is the long weekend
How could those days be fading so soon
Fake tattoos on my arms
I've come to terms with
My lack of soul
And I seek only the mission ahead
Where I am to leave
And never be heard from again
But theres a calc test tomorrow
It's too much to ask
For me to set aside my daydreams
Of settling in the void

I feel closer to my childhood self
When I am sobbing

I've thought of myself as open
Carelessly trusting
Does it matter what I say or what people know?
But I suppose it doesnt count
The things I've never spoken of
Just because it's never come up
In conversation
Because those things dont come up in conversation

Theres one picture I want to paint
However that may be
I need to grasp
This loneliness
I need to see it in front of me

i like the sound of it
i like to think its quiet
not as a stillness
but as a roaring tide
it shreds and it kills me under its collapse

resonate
can i tell you of how i met the void?
i long to
but the story itself is too long
i travel only to search for someone
who's ears are as patient
can i tell you of how i met my death?
i long to
if it weren't for my heart that scratches from the inside out
every time i speak of my one unspoken instant
my so solemnly celebrated instant
that haunts me and drives me and revises my charge
i take each step only for the instant that urges me forward
and forwardly marches like a puppet
i am my own string and bones of a larger hand
the one from deeper down
deeper than my own hands can reach or grapple
i can't blame myself for each and every person
i've morphed myself into being
unknowingly, unspoken
i can no longer blame myself
for that of which i have no control, that of which being myself
it is the drive, it is the core, it is the heart, it is the hand,
it is the instant of my death
i long to tell you the story of it
tell me you have the time
but only tell me if you have it
if you are ready to spend the march
not by stopping time
but by defying its presence
by shredding it into something greater than
what we could ever acknowledge it to be
it is the time spent
it is the words spent
it is the surging and the opening
and the long walk into this aching direction
let me tell you this story

why was I most murderous in my childhood
I was young and I was magical
and craved the taste of blood
like a wild woodlander
I'd think of myself that way
Now I'd laugh at the thought
my hands are only softer
meant for caressing the skin
of such a child's face

What I described months ago in my bedroom
A stranger described just the same in 2008
And I listen to him now
and it opens a portal
There is one man who knows the faux of my emptiness
he doesn't know me, but he knows that I'm there