I cant believe it but ive
Forgotten this feeling
Of craving to be near someone
Even if it isnt you
I might have hope for me

The first weekend of quarantine
I bleached my hair from black
to a neon pink and yellow pulse
My family booked a room at the Ramada hotel,
the only family there
I practiced opera in the empty bathtub while they swam
While they slept I layed outside
on the porch
in all my black clothes
listening to 200km In the Wrong Direction by tATu
on full blast through my headphones
The pain was pent up
And expelled through that hysterical humidity

I am a vessel
for what, I do not know

I have an optimistic take
on applying string theory
to the afterlife
that there are forms in which
I can give my living body
to oblivion
as a prerequisite
to the potential disintegration
of my string of thought
that it will be reduced
to only a string
and with a voidal imitation
I am already easing my way

im just
2 cool i guess

in bed for four hours and i
tell myself i just need to lay down

i don't care if it's fake
i want to feel it
i don't care if it'll last a month
i want to feel it
i don't care it'll hurt
i need to feel it

i'm still not getting better
i'm still not getting better
i'm still not getting better

somehow, even now
after every dreadful year
you never fail to appall me
with your prevalence
in being completely devoid of empathy

my friends who love
can sculpt a lover's face
onto a sheet of paper

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

i think i'm starting to overcome it
I can love life, accept death, and believe
there's nothing after
all at once

I am loveless
I am unloving
I don’t want to live

i'll never be able to go through it
without ******* up
it's always me

I just felt a timeless feeling
I'm drowned out with a song
And I see myself dead
And wonder who will hear
This same song
And see the same images
I wonder who
Listened to Elton John or Eric Satie
And saw themselves dead
With people of the future listening in
I can feel them now

smells of love
feels of hurt

I'm tired of rotating through
the same conclusions

how can I live blindly
are they hiding the fact
that there is nothing to see

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

how are you okay with the void?
i vote we say ***** it
and just become vampires

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’ve lived for so long already
feels like i’m already dead

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

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

My instagram
flows and flows
pictures and snapshots
at the top of a waterfall
ready for flight
raining down in full
relentless
I do not write when I am happy
I do not write when I am okay
I cannot capture security with words
I take pictures
Here is my cat,
Here is a latte,
Here are my friends,
Here is a cool tree
that reminded me of the one
that stood in the field
of my elementary school
That I cherished and loved
They cut that one down
I couldn't show you a picture
But this one looks quite like it,
don't you see?
And so they flow
Outweighing the scraps
of my written despairs
pouring like paint
to color my memory
of things
that are good
and things
that are okay
into the feeds
the scrolls of squares
they flow

It started with my mother
“Cat, you are a beauty”
“You look like your father, with a touch of beauty”
“You look like your father, with a hint of me”
“You look like your father”

I’ve lost my narrative

you have scary things to say
at least scary for me to hear
i am feeling for once
so i allow myself to feel
in that i hold no shame

the air is cooler
and the taste is bitter
these last moments of comfort
are my only solace
for what's to come

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

I think very often of our pain
I think very often. why can't we care for each other
What is it that stops us
What is it that holds me back from holding you and holding them
and what stops them from letting go
letting go
To give up
and give your hand
and live instead
and live with compassion

Why the ****
Would I miss you now
You, the one not from two years ago,
But three
The one before
The one that I'D left &
have stood behind that
for these three years
Why would I miss you now
Even if for a moment
What the ****
Was that feeling supposed to mean

Get out of my heart
I dont need a reminder
Of the stone in my future
I dont wish to grasp you
If I cant forever

Why do I desire
To be evil
Why do I seek
The fear of others
Why do I feel
No remorse

Handprints on the wall
I'll never know their names
They'll never know our failures
Resting in peace
Without the weight of our legacy
Which has been scrapped thereafter
And withers the print

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

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

its the horror
of seeing them at the age you were
facing the same pain

i know
they don’t want me around
i’m working on
keeping quiet

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

they told me my painting was ominous
While I was thinking
It was pretty self-explanatory

digitally dirtied
is my poetry
no erase marks
to document the delete button
delete myself amiright

There is an attitude
about coming together
to create something new

I wonder if that is the cause
For corruption
When someone steps up
To take another's place
To carry out something prewritten
There is no longer the cause
There should never have been
Permanence in legislature

forcing myself to accept
that this is all there is
and then its nothing

It's starting to get to me
Starting to eat and dig at me
Starting to furrow

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

I am my own blackhole

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