Another late night I'm left to sit here alone and pretend I understand what it feels like to be complete.
If you made any effort to understand me you would first realize that were not so different.
We're all monsters wearing this fragile skin, traveling the world and sewing up holes in our disguises so the demons don't pour out into the streets.
But no
Not you
You're perfect aren't you?
It's so sad that you dont even realize youre broken
You disgust me
How am I supposed to quite down the screaming in my stomach if no one else admits they feel it too
**** it
I'll feed them vikoden and ***** and maybe one day it will all go quiet

Over and over again, I don't know if it's you're frail identity or my knuckles crunching.
Go ahead, look at a mirror.

Touch
I'm going insane
Pulsing
Pulsing
Breath
I can feel you
My fingers pass through your hair
I can still feel you


I'm going insane.
You have ropes wound around everyone limb and you're tugging at my sanity

Please
Pull me apart
Look into my open chest cavity
Look at my heart and tell me you don't want it
Watch it beat and tell yourself it's not important
Look into my eyes and tell me he's better
Look into my eyes
Anything
Just look at me
Pulling
Please look at me
Pulling

Im going insane
I'm stuck in a chamber
My voice reverbs off the never ending walls and there is just enough air in this black abyss to keep me from slipping away from the misery that is tied so neatly around my soul.



Pull
Pull me further
Pull me under
Let the waves wash each and every sin from my body
Let the sun burn the wrong from my lungs
Why can't I sleep
Are the pills not working?
Did I not take enough?
Let me take more
Maybe one more

Maybe just one more






Maybe I can finally sleep

Peacefully.

I was sinking so peacefully.
The water, a blanket to carry me away.
The current, a beating heart.

It was only a few seconds before I hit the bottom, the alcohol in my stomach, a weight.

Deep, gentle breaths.
Shallow, cool water.

Welcome.

I used to keep a suicide note in my wallet in case I ever found a building with a view beautiful enough to be my last.
It was a hastily written apology for never being who everyone thought I could be.
It between the faded blue lines, gentle wishes kissed the page, hoping someday someone would see them and they would come true. The middle paragraph carved a hollow spot in my chest as I wrote it.

"My friends. I am sorry. I know you'll never really understand. I hope that you all can forgive me for meeting you in the first place. I love you and I'm sorry I can never truly express it, I know I have class but it feels okay that I can finally be free of them, and you can be free of me."

The words were smudged with bits of alcohol that had dripped from the bottles mouth when I pulled it from mine.
God how I couldn't wait for it all to end.

Then, I met you. I wrote poem after poem hoping youd get the hint. You were my building, my end. Your eyes, the final sky id see, your smile, my last sunset.

I took one of the peoms from my drawer, the first line reads,
       "Her eyes, the forest. The greenest life that could ever grow."

I will sit on Saturn's rings and pray that the gravity is strong enough to include me.
Everything I am is an 18 year attempt to be a part of something.
I have no interests, no hobbies, no goals or motivations.
I'm not special
I'm not individual
I'm just another conforming non-conformist with a chicken scratch heart blasting poorly written suicide notes through my viens.
I'm sorry.
I've never walked through snow or sand because it's depressing to me that I never make an impression.
I'm just barely opaque enough for people to see, but even in my own life, I'm nothing more than a faceless character ment to present the lead.
I will never have a big dance number or a power solo.
My voice hardly even blends with the chorus, the waves of voices swallow mine.
The edges of parties and backgrounds of conversations are my habitat.
The sun does not know it pulls a solar system around it, and I am simply caught in the gravity.
Maybe I'm just being sensitive.


I mean, at least my dog cares if I wake up tomorrow.

Word, knives.
Blades plunged into the frail masculinity each man hold.
"Grow a pair"
*******
"Sack up"
*******
See America wonders why women are objectified in our culture.
"Youre a ******? ******* loser"
"You haven't had a girlfriend? So youre gay?"
And the sufferers continue to suffer, unheard, but Why?
"Youre acting like a *****"
"Don't dump out your purse dude"
"Does the ***** need some tampons?"
"No, no I don't need any tampons. I'll start working out
I'll get muscular so women will love me.
I'll stop hating myself so guys will stop torturing me
I'll have lots of *** so everyone will think I'm a man"
And here's where it gets dangerous.
Other men and women have turned an innocent boy into a shark who will attack anything with a different set of reproductive organs
He doesn't care that he's being aggressive, he just wants to be "normal".
He wants to be a man.
See sexism works both ways, women perpetuate sexism towards women
Men perpetuate sexism towards men and vice versa.
And it all starts with one sentence.

This is the last peom I will ever write.

I hate poetry. I can no longer stand to look at my own words no more than I can stand to look at my own reflection. I've become overly critical of everyone in my life, not because they are bad people, but because they are better than me. Its been 3 weeks since I convinced myself I didn't need antidepressants anymore and things are going okay. Its not that taking them made me happy, they made me ignorant.

Ignorant to the fact that I feel like an outcast no matter where I'm at or who I'm with. Ignorant to the fact that I'm truly not happy.

I will always be that one kid who jokes about suicide to the point that his friends don't know if he's joking or not, and to be honest I'm not sure if I am. I'm so tired of feeling like everyone around me is so well out together and I feel like this. I'm so tired in general. I want to sleep. Not in a bed but a house with satin sheets and oak walls that fits one person. This room will be lowered into the earth where I can finally be free of the pressures I put myself under.

I don't want to feel like this anymore. And I think one of the worst parts is, no one takes pictures of me.

I know it may seem small, but a picture says that you're worth remembering.

So maybe I should just be forgotten