my eyes are
the color of the earth
as seen
from far away

mother gets a call from my sister
I head to the bathroom
And scratch at my face
In my reflection
Nervous habit
Something else had been altered

this is another shell
of a poem i deleted moments ago

oh to live a life with journey and
not these
microbial sparks
little waves that seem to spark through
like a cobweb soul
painting geometry i can hardly
understand

Sometimes it really pays off
To shred your legs
With the tip of a protractor
To grow out your nails
For the purpose
Of sinking them into your skin

I'm either dead
or in fear
the inbetween is nice
but still there are sides to the spectrum

It isnt too late for compassion
And it isnt too late for hope
You from the city
Who comes from peace
Knows no difference
Between land and borders
I come from the coldwar
I come from plains
And I've seen the real need
To be unified
To be free

no one will ever find me
no one will ever know me
no one will ever see the sadness & stay
no one will ever find me
no one will ever hold me
or tell me I’m alive when I think that I’m dead
no eyes that are watching
no ears that are listening
no one will ever see me
no one might ever hear me
they leave me a puzzle unsolved
it’s not that I’m tricky
just not what they’re used to
but with me, they believe,
their efforts will be wasted
all I need is one person
and a person, I need

it's alright if they'll miss me
i'll miss me too
but for the life of me
this road i have to take
for the life of them
my road ends here

i guess im picturing my death again
this time it feels real
i can see the reactions
of those i love most
the timing seems perfect
its scary

if the days just keep on coming like this i might just have to actually give up 🤟

i wish ppl from home could see this city.
i miss the ppl from home.
i wish ppl here were more kind.
i miss kind ppl.
ok gn

it hurts, real bad
I can only say that to myself
‘less I submit to selection
nature’s way of letting me go
but that’ll hurt worse

someone once told me
they believed the afterlife was a new earth
some call this hell
but for once
i hoped someone was right

i know that i'm lonely
but i know i'm a dreamer
my projections of longing
are merely my hypotheses
a demonstration
of my understanding
of love

I'm getting hungrier again
fifty dollars
to last the semester
feeling illegitimate
at the pantry, still
I feel I'm not worthy
of a free box of macaroni
as if I don't deserve dinner tonight

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

smells of love
feels of hurt

My fifth grade self got down on her knees
In the center of her childhood bedroom
Held a steak knife to her stomach
Juliet-style
Because that was the only way she, (at that time of her life), knew how to do it
Other than jumping off a London Bridge into some clamoring river
But she couldn't figure a way to get to London
And was more afraid of heights than she was of death

Let me be ill
And let me be free
I'm starting to sound like you
Nothing could
Disgust me more

I am not the same
And nothing new

Hyperfixations
Why does everything I write
Need to be coded
I realize that everything I say
Is equally so
I feel less alone
When I can say it aloud
Even if it's only underlying

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

fell out of my fingers
i've lost the keys
i can't hear,
and i can't see it
it may never return
i have nothing of my own
and nothing of myself

let me talk to you
about the feeling of vulnerability
without ever opening up

exiting out of **** sites to google
life advice from morticians

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

momma i'm in the living room
listening to you cry again
momma i miss you
except for when you call
don't tell me you love me
just look after your son
stay calm, momma
the stars will come

Bind me
Bind me
Bind me

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

recite me sappho
through your breath
and beneath your palms

there's not enough talk
about accepting death with no afterlife
I can't read hundreds of articles
on how to comfort myself of this fact

My childhood clouds
Have come back to say hello
Baby's fingertips
I cradle my own face

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

I am a child
though life is short
I can feel her naivety, her fear
Her freckles have come back
Her eyebrows are grown
I can see only her face
in my small reflection

I am a child and
you are a man
but life is short
so who is to say

o god o let me find you
in this time where you are buried
so far beneath and
all I can hope to do is guard the soil
let me lay over the ice top
not to warm it from the outside
but to let my silhouette be present to you
you who are so far below
this premature hibernation
with no telling of when the ice will crack
and when the ice will break for you
you who are free on the inside
and I
trapped on the outside
I will be here the moment you return
I will be here every moment before then
If only to be a reassurance to you
beneath my feet like an earthquake that I know someday is bound to happen
even if there really is no telling
I know you are there and
I know that you will find me too

suicidal fantasy season
makes my heart tremble
and my hands unstable

when i am unwelcome i am
a corpse walking among
a world that i should no longer exist in

something expired and molded
my presence a stench
unable to decompose

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

here i lay on this cold section of the stage
where no one can see
where i escape
it is the same as death encompasses me
experiencing the narrative through
to the end

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

time is a snow globe
and perception is the flakes

I repeat the ******'s word like he was meant
to live within me
I say it like an anthem
as if death took form and walked through my door
and gave me words to worship
as some personal salvation
it invades my nightly silence:
"I am young enough to repaint and
old enough to sell"
I make it a multitude of myself

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

a day again
and still I'm saying
I need help

I should have died
a long time ago

you've been relentless
i'm reaching my limit
i've never made such a mess on my face
washing off mascara has never been such a *****
no one knows a thing
no one knows a thing
not one person
if I felt better, I would walk downstairs
I would see what you were up to
I'd be friendly, I'd work with it
I did
but the moment you saw me
you had to tear me down
right back where I came from,
in a matter of seconds
it's amazing how easy we can shut ourselves off
it's amazing how i'm giving you all the signs
and somehow they all slip passed you
you'll slip pass me soon
never thought I'd have to prepare to leave you too
you were the only one
the one I thought knew me the best
out of everyone
you, too?
that's truly it for me then
i'm gone
i'll be here a while longer
but i'm gone
i'll forgive you
but i won't forget

My dad is the only man on Earth
who doesn't assume that
he was "The One Who Hurt Me"

and I think that, in itself,
is quite ironic