No please
I'm begging you
Don't push me back to sea


This vessel is broken and tore, I have no sails or paddles.
My body is heavy and my mind is all but gone.
I love the shore and I love you but I can't help but worry that something has shifted

Oh no
I promise I'll do better
I'll be better

Whether or not I was cast into the waves by your hand or my own, here I am again. This part of the sea is not plotted on any map and has no title. There's no sunlight shining through the clouds, the sea is black and devoid of life. All I can see is darkness in all directions.

Alone
It's been so long
I can't continue to fight anymore

I walk to the edge of the bow and I stare into the abyss, my heart like a weight in my chest that will allow me to sink to the bottom. Just as I step off the edge I can hear your voice,

or maybe

I just imagined it.

I never imagined I'd ever love anyone quite like I love you.

You being a variable that is totally interchangeable from person to person because when you lose yourself other people look like lighthouses. It feels like it's when I approach the dock that the lights that called me to shore are just the moolights dance across the cracked glass.
Sometimes there are lights, and just as I throw the rope overboard, they vanish into the cool void. So here I am, sitting in the middle of this vast, mirror-black sea. I can scream all I want but my one voice is swallowed by the ocean's thousands.

Please let me dock.

Im tired

My sails are worn, the boards beneath my feet are fraying. Sometimes, a lighthouse leaves there signal burning long enough for me to warm the rain from my skin.  However, I am thrown back into the ways before long.

I never imagined I'd be so lost that every "help me" came out as "I love you".

And every suicide note becoming a poem.

I woke up one morning

Actually I've woken up every morning including this one.

Next

Sometimes at night I sleep (that's also a joke)

When I look at you
You're beautiful.
Its when I look away that you're a ****** up mess.

Sometimes when I'm sad, I name all of my greatest accomplishments. I dont mean to brag or anything but I was born so hard. They even gave me a certificate for it.

I love getting drunk and leaving myself letters, I found one the other day and it said "help me. I want to die so bad. I drink because maybe one day my heart will pump exclusively alcohol and my brain will shrivel and die, taking all these ****** up thoughts with them" what a prankster.

No but seriously, have you ever thought a guy was cute. Not in like a "I would totally **** David Beckham"  sort of way but like, nice face bro. No ****, amiright?

Shout out to all my friends. You guys actually find me amusing sometimes. That's impressive. I'm an alcoholic because I listen to my own jokes

I like telling people a joke and then when they laugh I say something funnier to follow up like "making other people laugh is the only reason I have Kurt cobained myself".

I mean come on. What is pain without humor. Sometimes it's nice to take a break. Being so deep can really hurt you, but you don't have to worry about that because I'm small.

Thank you.

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

I can no longer find a light house
My bones ache from the salty air and my lungs fill with mist.
I have been floating for too long.
When you find my vessel, send word to my friends and family.
Tell everyone I'm sorry, but I never was a very good swimmer.
My eyes sting with either tears or rain I can't tell anymore.


All the lighthouses that shone so brightly for my ship yesterday have all burned out and shut there doors.
The docks erode away in the raging tempest around me snd I find myself laying on the deck.
I'm staring into the black abyss of the night.
Even the moon has left me.
I hear no waves tossing this boat around but I feel my stomach in knots as I thrash mercilessly in the storm.
I feel as though I've gone deaf.
I drag my hands across the wood grain of my chest, tearing the flesh from my finger tips.
I scream until my vocal chords twist around eachother and the only sounds I produce are wheezing gargles.

I've lost my rope to dock
I've lost my will to sail
I've lost my lighthouses
Ive lost the sea

It's early summer.

The green are full of the brightest greens and they're all very alive.

Alive. What a strange word

I am nothing more than another person working another job that doesn't mean **** to anyone but the person I'm standing across from when I say "sorry sir, we don't have that brand of *****".

What the **** am I doing? Am I the only person that see that's all of us are just buffalo, herded to the edge of a cliff by those who brand us things like "minimally exceptable".

Why can't I just do something, anything that has purpose. I want to be a role model, I want kids to look up to me. I want to sing and dance and be someone else under the lights of a stage. Anyways, enough about me, is there anything else I can help you find, sir?

The sea is rough and unforgiving. The salt dries out my throat and now whenever I try to speak it feels like nails are being drug down my neck and into my stomach. The paddles are starting to splinter but as long as I have my arms I can move this tiny boat across the waves and I promise I will not stop until our journey is over and we've reached our golden shores. As long as I have you in the raft it will not over turn in the waves. As long as I have you in this raft the waves don't even seem that large. The ocean seems small in comparison to your eyes and current isn't strong enough to pull me away.
I will not sink
We will not sink
This raft will leak but even if the entire mass of water stepped inside the wooden frame I will not let this vessel move.
I will paddle with my hands until they Crack. I will paddle with my arms until the muscle separates from the bone and even then I will paddle.
I can see our shores and ******* it are they close.
We can get there, I know we can.
I know I love you.
Just hold me when the waves are calm.
I forget how afraid I am of the ocean sometimes.
As long as I have you
        We will never capsize

I have to type this quick because soon I'll get too woozy to make write of the words. I'm sorry if the words are spelled wrong, I'm typing this with my left hand since I cut all the tendons in my right.

Dear mom and dad,
       I'm so so sorry I didn't turn out how you wanted. I tried I really did, please don't hate me when you find this. I spent so long pretending to be okay that it felt so strange to feel okay for real and I panicked. It'll be okay though, I'm comfortable In this warm little puddle. It almost feels like a womb, soon to birth me into the eternal numbness and the quiet i so desperately deserve. You've made me happier than I'm worth and for that I will always love you. Everything I was is everything you are and without you I would've been nothing more than the ending to a story no one read anyways. Thank you for everything and I'm so sorry


Dear N and family,
     We haven't spoken in weeks and I feel like that's my fault. I'm sorry I pushed you away but i felt replaced by your family. How childish is that? No matter what you're always my big brother and I love you. Tell the kids that uncle nono went on vacation to somewhere beautiful and that I'll be back someday when they're older. Tell them I'm sorry I wasn't a better role model.

Dear S,
  I can't even say anything. I'm so ******* sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger. Im sorry I got caught up in my selfishness. Im sorry I wasn't better. I know you'll get better and I'm so so proud of you. You've grown into such a beautiful and absolutely indescribable young woman. I want you to remember our time spent together but forget me. You have every guy in the world to choose from, and I'm sure they're better than I am. I'm sure you'll find someone who will realize your a goddess just as I did. Hopefully they're not as broken as I am. I want you to know I love you...

Dear L,
 Check it out bro you got your own section. Thanks for being my brother when I didn't have anyone. Thank you for being that one voice of reason that I listened to like, 60% Of the time. You made life a little more bearable. Thank you for putting up with all my dumb ******* and you have to promise to show up to my funeral in a bro tank, drinking a Miller.

Dear everyone who's kept me alive this long,
 I'm so sorry I let you down. All your work was for nothing. I'm sorry you started to love me. I'm sorry if you cared and I'm happy if you didn't. You shouldn't have ever loved anyone like me because trust me, I wouldn't either. Thank you for everything you did to make my life amazing. I love you and ******* for making it so hard to leave.

My head hurts and I'm freezing. Why is my back all sticky? The floor is really slippery around me and it's hard to breathe. My ears are ringing really loud and everything looks really grey. I think I should close my eyes for a bit, I'll wake up soon. I just need to nap for a bit.

Just a bit

I'll be up soon...

I can't ******* sleep and it's all because of you.

I can't even shut my eyes without seeing your face. I feel as if I'm trapped in my own head, clawing at the inside of my skull until I wear my fingers down to the bone.  Why can't it ever be simple? Why can't it ever be easy? Why is it that every time I think I've stepped away from you, you sing a silent sirens song sending me sliding slowly down a slippery *****, serenading my cerebellum and sealing my soul in my chest.

I don't get it.

Why can't you just tell me you hate me.

It doesn't matter, look at me. Sitting here clutching onto you. Laying on my bathroom floor. I thought about replacing you with her. That's right I said it.

I want to replace you.

But she doesn't even realize.

So here we sit, again, me and you. A long night awake in the bathroom, with you sliding down my throat. You taste bitter with just the water I have to push you down. I've gotten to the point where I have to have you to sleep. Imagine that. Yet, when there's a body beside me, I no longer need you inside me. I can rest without you coursing though my veins.

Ive pretty much just excepted that you won't be replaced with her, or anyone, until I love myself more than you. God what a task. Loving myself.  Doesn't matter. Eventually someone will help me sleep.

But I guess it's just you and me.

My boat was broken and the deck splintered into my feet. The bow is frayed and split and water rushes over my body. It was in this moment that realization tied itself around my neck and was heavier than concrete. I was sinking fast and the hungry waves laid in wait to swallow my tired soul. The shore was in my eyesight but I had not the strength nor the want to swim towards it anymore. I wasnt ready for the silence of the current, but I accepted the fact that I was going to drown here.

I look up at the beaming sun through the has of the water. I watched it get darker and darker, as did my peripheral vision. I was still holding my breath and I didn't know how many more seconds I had in my lungs. I didn't panic. I knew that this is what I deserved. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, the salt water tearing apart my lungs.

I woke up on the shore with your hands pressing my chest and your beautiful eyes staring into mine. I couldn't hear anything other than my own heartbeat..*******, I still have a heartbeat. I cough the sea from my lungs and you pulled my head to your chest. Your voice was frantic and you both scorned me for not swimming and fell over yourself at the fact that I was alive. I looked up and grabbed your face and held it in my hands in total disbelief. Your voice had guided my journey for so long and I yearned to find my way back. You had pulled my from the depths and now I am here, with you. I interrupted you with a kiss and I buried my face into your neck, resting my head on your shoulder. I could say anything but "thank you and I love you" over and over until I felt like I was digging the words into the earth.

You've saved me

And I love you

Another day for me to host an elaborate party, hoping that someday my Daisy will walk through the door and welcome me back into her arms. I've built this 3 story facade up and covered the walls in art. I've decorated every piece someone can see, minus a missed spot here or there. I put my fancy clothes on and I pour shot after shot down my throat until the alcohol doesn't burn, or do anything anymore. I've tried to reach out to her before but every time I do I find my self right back in these decorated walls, adorned with memories that remind me of her. Every night in the pitch black nothingness I peer to the other side of the thick black sludge and I see a green light. This green light is the end of the dock behind daisy's house and it calls to me like a beacon. I even see it when I sleep.

One day, when I found it particularly hard to wake up, I decide to try. I went out being my facade, fixed my eyes in the light, and dove into the hopeless abandon. I thrashed my way across for what felt like hours, only hearing the faint whispers driving me forward. I finally made it to the dock, and I grasped the light in my hand and I pulled all my might, hoping to find myself on dry land and one step closer to my love.

Instead I found that I hadn't left my room.
Instead of a beacon, I pulled open a drawer and found that it was my handgun that was calling me.
There was no daisy
No house
No fancy clothes
No parties

Just a light at the other side of a dark lake.

My name doesn't matter because none of you will remember it in 15 years anyway. I'm just a person who you've cracked you door ever so slightly open for and you let both me and the haunting breeze in.
It's good to see you again, we'll beside the many times I stare at your name on the top of my phone screen and the words "compose message" loom just below, like jaws read to swallow every syllable of you're title and digit of your number.
What the ****. I know I've written this message out a thousand times but the only key that felt right was backspace. No that can't be it, let me go back through all twenty six letters until I find something, anything that feels better than nothing at all, please, anything.
I texted God instead, I hadn't spoken with him in years but I needed to ask him if I used a 12 gauge shotgun slug like the ******* Apollo and used the lead to Carry every thought to heaven if my soul would follow it.
But he left me on read.
No no I'm fine I promise. It doesn't hurt to pretend to be strong and it defiantly doesn't drain the life from me that you pretend to care. I'm just a man, reading poems to himself in the bathroom mirror over and over again in the left over mist of a scalding shower he took to prepare himself for hell.
What if the boy who cried wolf was actually just crying to the wolf. They weren't calls for attention but screams that poured out over the edges of the forest on accident, and when the hunters arrived the boy was too afraid to tell them he saw the wolf when peering into the still, blue lake.
Too afraid to cry in front of the hunters, the wolf drug him into the forest and left his screams trapped under the braided rope. Still afraid of being weak, the boy faced himself and was found swinging from an oak, smiling.

When I first saw her

She was standing over me, like a worn statue of Aphrodite. She radiated beauty and power and her skin glistened like a lake reflecting the fragile moonlight

When I first saw her, she was wearing an asking Alexandria t shirt, a beacon of individuality in a copy and paste status quo of basketball shorts and loaded guns aimed at the weak.

When I first saw her, I was laying on the ground looking up. I was halfway through the word help, she was halfway through the word stop.

I was 13. Kids a few years older and twice my size held me by my throat and I choked on the gasoline bile boiling up from my stomach.

After she broke a few knuckles, she dusted me off.

When I first saw her, she said, youre kind of a loser, but I like you.




When I last saw her, I bent over the casket to kiss her cheek. The bruises on her neck and cuts in her wrists still hid behind the make up and I wouldve have seen them regardless of the caskets opening. I had this childlike dream that a tear would seep through her chest and water her soul enough to regrow and shed once again beam that beautiful smile that cut through the fog of life. I stood over her like a mournful tower, codemned to not move from its place. "Youre kind of a loser, but I love you"

I've written 15 poems in the past 3 days and I hated them all so much I had to force myself to post something, anything.

So here it is
Over the past week. I've realized a few things
1. I hate you
2. I hate myself
3. I miss you
4. I hate the fact that I'm Okay with you not being here.
5. I miss you

Everything in my head struggles to mimic any type of coherence and I'm left staring out the window wishing this house would catch on fire.

Here's some more stuff
1. Some people exist only to hurt you
2. Friends can be enemies too
3. You're a ******* narcissistic lier

Sometimes I wish your house would catch on fire and I'm left here staring out the window

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH­HHHHHHHH

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."

We all make mistakes.
I ****** up

I realize that I don't belong

I wish I didn't hate myself

I wish I didn't start rewriting my name as "nothing".

I want to feel. Anything. I try so hard to feel. I put my heart out, I tear it from my rib cage and present each separate ventricle. Why do you look away when I get to the aorta. Why doesn't my blood stain things pink so it looks good enough to wear again. Why do these pills get stuck in my throat like ***** of nails. Why won't you look at me, I don't care if you're my reflection, why won't you look at me.

I wish.

I wish I had someone that would watch the black tar seep from my hands onto a page, and wipe away the silent tears.

I wish I didn't have to slit my throat over a notebook for someone to see that im stuck. I'm stuck and all I want it your help.

I wish I didn't have to **** myself to get it.

Here we sit in perectly aligned rows
Black metal chairs hold the weight of our worries, our fears and our dreams.
We sit, uniformly individual.

We are all cogs in the large machine that turns us all into the same set of numbers and alphanumerics.

As I sit among these people, I realize that we are all equally unprepared for life. The school systems put us in a sinking boat and hand us a thimble to scoop out the water.

But no, it's not them. Its us. Society turns its light house neck around the rocky cliff and faces not the shore, but the solid land.
Somehow we're the ones that fail, even when everyone else gave us the pieces to a different puzzle

All of my poems are just the same set of words rearranged just enough for them to be considered a new thought. They're not clever social commentary or a chilling piece about mental illness or anything like that. Instead, it's just a lonely kid feeling like a little fish in a big big pond who thinks he has a voice someone wants to listen to. If you're a stranger to my poems, let me sum everything up for you.

I'm sad part 1
Suicidal anxiety
I hate myself
I'm lonely
I'm sad part 2
I hate myself

That's pretty much all of them. I realize that for a voice to be significant it has to be sincere. My poetry isn't even good to me, they just help me on those dark nights when the only light in my room is my phone screen and it's the only thing I've interacted with for hours. I find my own logic so perplexing. I'm naturally extroverted and most of, if not all, of my happiness comes from other people. Meeting people, making people laugh. But recently I've been so worn down I barely want to get out bed. I haven't slept in weeks and now the nightmares have gotten so bad I'm lucky if I get an hour or two. So now I mainly just sit in my room with a fractured mind and a tired heart and I convince myself that people would be affected if I was to disappear one day, and to be honest, I'm not sure I believe that. I believe everyone is unhappy to some capacity and I'm just a dumb kid out to save the world and went I realize how big the world is, I crumble up on the bathroom floor, clutching my confused ideologies and personal morals. I'm not broken in a way that I don't work, I'm broken in a way that I don't work right. I feel like I always hit left a center and on day I'll just stop aiming to hit anything. At this point in my life, I've burned so many bridges it leaves me to wonder what's left. People whom I've considered my friends for awhile, I've left with no second thought. Conflicts of ideals are the hardest to resolve because no one person can be proven right or wrong. I don't know, maybe I'm exaggerating. It just feels like everyone around me moved and found the happiness and the purpose I was looking for. They all stayed and got older while I went somewhere and stayed the same. I have a few people that I would **** for. I pour all of my heart into them because they are my lifeline to happiness. My best friend of twelve years, my cousin, me two friends from 6th grade and my soon to be girlfriend. Whenever I'm writing another stupid poem I can here them say "hey, it's okay. It's not that bad" and somehow I feel better. Sometimes I still think about suicide and I defiantly struggle with my mental stability. But I honestly think it's getting better. The bright times last longer and feel better, but thank dark times are the darkest they've ever been. I know if I can just hold my breath long enough I'll wake up when it's sunny again. Things take time, and I'm impatient. Time scares me because you never know what can happen between present and future. People leave, things change, plans change, you change. I'm learning patience and I know one day I'll look back and wonder why I was ever afraid. But for now, I'm just a scared little fish trying to swim in a strong current inside a big pond.

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.

Trick yourself into believing it's not love
It always starts off so easy
"She's just nice" you tell yourself
You try your hardest not to believe that she could see something in you that you don't
Someone could be special to you and that's fine
It's the moment that someone makes you feel special that you wake up a 3 am in a cold sweat praying one day you're  lucky enough to even attempt to make her happy
When you start to feel special to someone, you're entire world changes
The sun shines warmer on the little purple flowers in your yard and isn't so heavy on your shoulders
The birds' songs sound like symphomies in your yard and you can almost hear them spill out over the edges of the world
The breeze is gentle and no longer pushes against your body and if you focus hard enough you'll swear to yourself you smell her perfume
When you think you're special to someone you'll start to ignore the things about yourself that you hyper-analyze on a daily basis
A shared laugh becomes your favorite song
Every moment together seems too short and everything becomes a little more vibrant

True love is when you feel loved
True love is when you love yourself
True love is when you feel special to someone
It's easy to love someone else, it's easy for people to be special to you

It's when you feel special

That's when it all changes

I have this song on repeat hoping that if I listen to the words enough times the sting that each syllable has would be less apparent. Instead I'm find myself laying in a bed of nails, wishing I could rewind and go back and say sorry over and over until my throat cracked and bled. Even then id wheeze the words because the words need to be bled. I can't escape this quiet little storm and I'm stuck on the eye wishing I never said goodbye in the first place. I convinced myself that I was poison and you had taken me and I was afraid of watching the beautiful pettles in my hand brown and decay. I guess I'll never find the true reason I had to walk away. I tried to say "I love you" but all that came out was "goodbye" my eyes widened because it felt as if a ghost stabbed my throat with the word. I sat for too long in the darkness of my room contemplating whether it was my selfish attitude or my fear of never being good enough for you. I stopped counting the days after I stopped feeling and the numbness pumped into my body and I got addicted. Every new girl just fed the addiction because id feel nothing when it wasn't you. It doesn't matter how much alcohol I'd poured directly onto my lungs I could never drown the memory of you. I hate this, I hate myself. Why did I say goodbye. I spend my time punching mirrors hoping the broken shards will cut deep enough to bleed out all this emptiness

But now I'm staring into beautiful hazel eyes, not a single thought forming in my head. My heart screaming words and my body flushes with feelings I haven't felt in months, maybe years. I can't believe it took so long to realize that those eyes are the only things keeping me grounded. Whenever I'd go to sleep I could feel your breath on my neck and I'd wake up with a wet pillow. But that doesn't matter anymore because I have you. I have you in my arms and I'm never letting go. I'm happy, I'm feeling, I love you and I'm never letting go. I will still scream I'm sorry into the bathroom mirror hoping my reflection will Crack because I know I don't deserve a second chance. I know I deserve you and you deserve to be happy so I will work hard to make you strong and protect you. I can't believe I forgot what love like this felt like, but I guess no one else can love me like this but you. I could never bleed enough thank yous for letting me crawl back into your life, you're the only thing that occupies the space in my head. I love you more than it could ever be said. I'm never giving up and I promise I will grind down my bones and tear my flesh apart before I ever say goodbye again. I love you. I'll say it over and over. Every time I say I love you while looking into your eyes it feels like a crack in my heart seals back together. Everytime I see you in feel a slice in my lungs close back up. You're my everything and I'd give up anything to keep you for the rest of this life and the next

Sorry for saying ****.
I had no idea how bad it would hurt when I tore your name from my vocal chords. I had no idea that I would fall in love with the idea of falling in love. Maybe I'm just meant to be lonely. It's funny because my standards rise and fall but you seem to be a perfect match no matter where they are.

In not sure what that says about you

Ow, ****
There I go again. Sinking a ciggarettes fingers deep into my lungs to pull out the words "I love you". I think I over shot though. Instead of not saying it when I look at you, I can't say it when I see my reflection. I spend every waking moment trying not to think about it, so I guess I spend every moment thinking about it.

Well, ****
I'm tired.
I sleep.
I wake.
I sleep.
I haven't eaten a full meal in almost 2 weeks and my stomach shrinks at the thought of having ever contained the bile that pours from your mouth and into mine. Just the other I told myself I hated you, I didn't believe it but it was worth a try. I can't say when I'll ever stop associating your name with nicotine, but until then, here's to you tobacco industry for making me feel a little less alone.

The truth is I _ my friends.
.
.
.
I think something is wrong here let me try again

I love my friends.
There we go.
It just took a minute for me to realize I have those. I'm still not used to it.

I hope they understand that I love them regardless of their flaws, and they always have me. Even if they forget about me I'll still be here.

And here you are. You can't even answer my texts but I still find myself entranced by your call whenever you crying pierces the night.

I guess I _ you.
Wait.
I you.
.
.
.
Finally.

Here I am surrounded by people I love
I feel as if I am not loved
I sit in the void of my mind as I stare into the eyes of someone who says "thanks for inviting me, it's been fun!"

My eyes scan their face

You're welcome.
I'm sorry.
I hope so.
I really hope so.

I finally found a group of people I love and I can't even enjoy it because I'm not sure they love me. Listen to me. Complaining about these beautiful people.

I just want to know where I stand. I want to know that if I fell down, I would have them to dust me off.

I don't know if they would want to. What reason to they have to pick me up. What reason do they have to be here. Why cant I just except it. Why can't I except that they love me.

They love me?

Love.

There it is. There's the problem.

A small piece of paper with shaggy printed on it sits on my night stand beside my bed.
It's honestly the only reason the colors look so bright when I'm pretty sure the last time I saw them they were a shade of gray, but I digress. ******-Doo and me are alike in the way that when were both afraid, we run straight to shaggy.
****** leaps into shaggy arms and I follow. Suddenly this episode of archer seems a lot more alive that before and I can't help but watch the colors drip off my Playstation and onto my floor.
Me and shaggy are pretty close. I confided in him more times than anyone else and he always seems to put me in a good mood.
He's easily my best friend, you have no idea. Sometimes I can't find him, but he's probably just off with the gang. Solving mysteries and ****. The only comfort I have is knowing that he'll be back to make these colors vivid again

To Tell the Truth

Everyone has that moment when they're staring at a mistake and time just seems to wrap around them, swallow them in a weightlessness that is tantamount to death.
Mine came in the form of blood soaked bathroom rug and a hastily written note.
The tile floor become a womb,a cold memory to carry me from this life.
The next morning I woke up twice.
The first I ate breakfast, the second, I ate my pride.
I needed help.
I need help.
In place of a androgynous mass with a PhD and a ******* for money, I write lines.
Letter after letter I take this new cuneiform and pull the lines from the pages and stitch the holes in my heart shut.
Poem after poem I draw closer the redemption.
Everyone has that thing, that makes time start living again.

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

Curious little night owl, screeching at the moon. Who will ever understand your disdain for the daylighy? You spend your life sitting on the edges of clock towers, closer to the time that you watch tick away. Everything in your hands does for some reason and you can't stop yourself from tearing it apart. Honestly, I'm jealous. You soar in the cool, liquid darkness and let out your shriek. I hear it cut through the empty abyss like an arrow cuts the wind.

Curious little night owl look upon me. Turn your eyes to someone as vast as the night. Hold me gently in your hands until I sleep, then tear your beak into my chest, removing every tumor this life has caused. Deliver me not into death, but back into this life. I wish to not be in this skin anymore. I wish to not question my worth against everyone I meet.

Curious little night owl, I see you pearing into my soul. Why do I feel as fragile as moonlight as soon as the sun rises? Why can I not soar weightless like you? Why do my feathers hurt when I laugh? Why is it, when I reach my hand into the tangible blackness I can only feel my own heart beat, or is that my heart beat?

Curious little night owl, know that I've prayed to lesser things. None as beautiful or as patient as you. I don't care that your would pluck your own feathers. I dont care that you break during the day. You make me believe in my individuality.

So I ask myself

Who are you?

I feel like I've gone completely numb
I over think everything
I drink
It's quiet
I'm sober
It's screaming
Drink after drink
Shot after shot
I passed out in the shower and I wish I just drown instead
I kissed you last night but today it feels wrong

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.

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.

I can feel this black pool of bile in the bottom of my lungs. Whenever I take too deep a breath, it's there to gargle in my chest and remind me that even if you bury the past its decomposing corpse will cause something to grow. I'm convinced I live life between suicidal thoughts and I'm too afraid to admit it to anyone expect the 30 people who will read and then forget about this poem. So go ahead, close the page, this will be here whether you care or not. That's the reassuring thing

I just don't get why living seems to rest heavy on the back of my neck, pushing my face into the soaking, black mud. I can still breathe out of the corners of my mouth if I smile wide enough. I think I can manage if I try hard enough.

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.