mushrooms tell poisonous lies
soon enough you find yourself lost
in the shadows of the grass
trying not to drown in the early morning dew
if only you could wander oh so aimlessly
and end up home with your linen blankets
but lamb's-ear is also rather comforting
as the sound of an owl's hoo's lull you to sleep
hope you rest for an eternity because
you'll never find your way back

I wake up, sweating
I dreamt about it again
My parents finding out.

It's World War 2.
My mom is driving down the road behind me,
Chasing me.
She is driving a ****'s car.
I'm running down a way so many people before me ran down
They, too, shared my or a similar secret

But I see contact mines in front of my feet, everywhere
My mom smiles and waves, makes a horrible face
I smile and wave back, feeling more and more dead
Than alive

I know this dream
I'm supposed to end up with the girl at the end
It's supposed to have a nice end
But it doesn't

Because I wake up, sweating
I dreamt about it again
My parents finding out.

Obsession
Is an addiction.
Addiction is exhaustion
of energy, willpower, and faith.

Jealousy
Is an emotion
meant to be felt, acknowledged,
And treated with gentleness
But also firmness.

Love
Requires no promises
No guarantees
And no reciprocation.

And sadness, loss, and fear
Is what I feel.

when you tell me I'm in love with all our friends
I know it's a joke and I laugh along, but really, it's true.
I can't help but love so many
five
ten
twelve faces
Girls are so beautiful and boys are so beautiful and all others are so beautiful
I don't love you any less, I don't love them any more, but sometimes it overflows, dripping down the sides of my form
cutting through negative space
I have always been the one to sit in the attic, always been the one to savour the cold, always been used to metallic rattles and the feeling of coughing once more before I can pull away from from the back of my throat
and sometimes when I'm surrounded
by beautiful people and their conditioner words,
it just glows

"Greedy girl," they whisper
For two was not enough.
I am not whole, with one more soul
I need two to give my trust.

Lovely trio of mine
I couldn't wish for more
Yet they call me a freak, "Love's for two, not three!"
They mutter that I'm a *****.

I'm not jealous or undecided
I'm not cheating and it's not abuse
Just because you've never doesn't mean three isn't better
For one who is not confused.

"Perhaps this is a phase,"
"No-one in their right mind would wish
For three or for four, how about two, who needs more?"
They all think just like this.

But I am polyamorous
My partners are in the plural
And we love equally, it doesn't matter that we're three
Our relationship breaks no ethic or moral.

So judge as you will
Judge as you please
I am proud of my *** and sexualities
And it's polyamory for me.

Imagine having as many hearts as you have hands.

Imagine one Doesn't Belong to you.

Imagine how easy it is to juggle two things

Imagine how hard it is to juggle three things.

Imagine catching three hearts

Imagine dropping one

Imagine picking it back up.

Imagine juggling four hearts.

Imagine being so talented you can catch two in each hand.

One day.

Imagine the one heart
covered in bruises.

Always dropped.
Always picked back up.

Imagine it doesn't belong to you

To those who have depression you know that it fills our minds with dark thoughts of our past, present, and future.
It makes us second guess why we are still alive.
It takes a strong iron grip on our chest and makes us struggle to get out of bed in the morning and makes us choke on words like "I am fine." Or "Don't worry I will be okay in time."
It twists the positive words we hear to form negitive thoughts of self-doubt and self-loathing.
It makes us want to hurt ourselves till we can't hear the words of hatred anymore.
It consumes our souls that were once bright and cheerful and turns them into darkness and sorrow.

To those who do not have depression do not understand why we can't just be happy.
They don't understand that every day is a battle of life and death.
They do not understand the effort it takes to get out of bed in the morning and to face another day.

To those who do not know that the words they say hurt us.
We take your words seriously.
When you tell us "Go **** yourself." We actually want to.

To those who don't know that they just forced a peer of theirs in the closet when you said, "If I saw a gay I would beat them up." It makes it harder for them to accept who they are.

To those who don't understand why people with eating disorders hate themselves enought to starve themself or make themselves sick after they eat.
It is more then trying to be thin.
It is the cure to all our problems if we just don't eat this week.
Or we eat and make ourself sick.

To those who don't understand social anxiety.
Loud noises scare us.
Large groups of people freak us out.
Talking to new people makes us worry.
Socializing is difficult and doesn't come easy for like the rest of you.

To those who don't understand why we stay in that abusive relationship.
We feel like they will change.
They said they loved us.
They apologized and said it will never happen again.
They threatened to hurt themselves or us if we left.
They make us feel special at times.

To those who understand everything that was writen above and that has been through any of these things.
Please know this.
You are strong.
You are important.
You are beautiful/handsome/perfect.
You are a fighter.
You are a winner.
You are loved.
You are cared for.
You are amazing.

A mother is suppose to love and protect you
but alcohol slithers into my mothers bloodstream and strips her from it
now sits a woman before me who i cannot recognize
alcohol is for cuts not drinking
but were you drinking it to heal the wounds on your heart?
you were suppose to shield me from pain
but you've caused the most