You hold out a flower to me and show me its intricacies, its petal, its every seam.
Then you ask if I could live with myself if I squished, because you couldn't,  you say
I tell you most days I already don’t live with myself,
I am just waking up and waiting to fall asleep
Or in bed waiting for the morning,
counting the intricacies of the wall.
I tell you that my head already doesn’t live with me, it lives leagues deeper,
much deeper in the petals of my flower.
And when I show you my back with all the seams,
the places where the stem meets the petals, and they stitch together unwillingly.
I tell you, the world has already smashed me,
It seems to have no problem living with it.

Tell me about the worst days

So I show you my ****** hands
and bound legs

I show you the maggots in my skeleton
and the pins in my hands

I show you the patches in my head
and the bumps down my back

You pretend not to notice the decaying nature of me,
pretend not to see my slow acting killer.

and are surprise when I tell you that the maggots java burrowed into my hips

We do not say the word love
it is ice we dare not tread for fear of cracking

We say:
Care, cherish, treasure, admire

To say love would be jump into
The fullness of emotion that lies beneath the ice

I used to let the rich red flowers that sprout every month
dominate my garden
I couldn't- wouldn’t- undergo the embarrassment
of digging shears out of by bag  
And dragging them into the bathroom with me.
I couldn’t bear to leave the clippings in there,
perhaps I wouldn’t.
I wonder who made me ashamed of this red garden.
I wonder why they find it so thorny,
when these are not roses,
but tulips

I swallow my med
like one uses a lifesaver,
with desperation

you are my sunshine,
my only sunshine

the people around me are somber,
the world is gray,
I am lively

you make me happy
when skies are gray

I drop the pill back in the organizer
the first of many to remain in that box

I learn to create my own sunshine

Love is all trust falls and trapeze for some

We put our affection on display in the air
in hopes that people will clap when we catch each other
from the deadly fall below.

I wonder sometimes what happens to the partners that fall

Often partners fall from the slip of a hand
We call it an accident, no one's fault
and sometimes it is

Love could also just be a simple walk through the garden
But perhaps I enjoy the show of trust falls and trapeze
as dangerous as it is

When the out of order is in order
it is a hard feeling to place
The chips are all mixed up inside
But the machine can still dispense

The out of order sign belongs on me
but yet by some mystery
no one has even checked so see if they can get chips

We are writing our from our hearts
Red ink staining the pages
We are writing with our hearts
Each word in rhythm
We are showing everyone our hearts
So that no one can see the wounds elsewhere
We are convincing ourselves that if our heart still beats
There is no problem.
But our hearts are beating our blood away

My heart tightens my rib cage traps my lungs
these are part of a dance we’ve done many times
a dance where one partner is trying to run
and the other  is trying to waltz.
You do not get a head start,
there is no finish line or trophy.
You just hope that the next dance is slower,
The steps are less hard, and the partner less willing to dance.

My skin is red there
its peeling there
So I pull.
I pull at this pain that traps me;
I pull away the suffering;
I pull away the memories,
the hurt too much to keep.
But when I am done pulling
what will remain of me

I am trying to write a letter to the man who tried to save me.
I don’t know what to say
And maybe that's why I stop
Maybe that's why the ground remains the same distance away.
Maybe that's why the bridge doesn’t win this time.
The characters of ‘dear teacher’
are the only things that mark the page

our relationship was like confetti
the parties gone, the guests have left
but it sits, damp, lifeless, alone
in the grass

Our relation ship was like glitter
even though the sparkle is gone,
its still turning up
in the couch cushions

Our relationship is like the party long gone
every loves to reminisce
but no one wishes they'd stayed longer

I roll the words I say to you around in my mouth,
Making sure I will feel good about them later
But of course, I don’t.
Later I will curse my words, and wish I spent them more wisely.
There is always more to say to you.
I want to tell you how I used to make sandcastles out of plastic cups,
I want to tell you how everyday I wonder if the person next to me is depressed
I want to tell you what book I’m reading.
I want to tell you I’m lesbian.
To tell you though I would have to spend a lot of words

The memories I made with you no longer fit with me
But I can't decide whether to weigh them down
Or set them free

I made these memories on a stormy sea
But where doesn’t matter
Because you were with me

Now you're gone
But don't come back
I no longer sail on seas like that

Dear Brendon Urie
this impossible year your songs were the only thing that put vigor in my blood, and feeling in my limbs. Until we feel alright. In my darkest hours your songs made my skeleton want to dance, made it dance, it always danced to your music. Always forever I will dance to your music.
Dear Brendon Urie
I'm all dressed up and naked. A tiktok, that was all it was, innocently scrolling through tiktok with my friend (though one could argue with her feed it is never innocent), I saw it. Do you know when you have the dream that you're naked at school?  This is a hundred fold worse. I was not naked, but something tore certainty from my body. The music that had help build be up burned my structure. You can set yourself on fire
Dear Brendon Urie
Girls love girls and boys. I came out as lesbain a few months ago. You gave me a space to explore that, you said ‘its ok to be queer’, then you punched me across the face. Homophobe was not usually even close to the row of adjectives I reserved for you but now it is.
Dear Brendon Urie
Just another LA Devotee. I thought for a second that tik tok was like voter fraud in Wisconsin, false claims made by uneducated people. Then the truth hits, no women lies about ****** harassment, no fan lies about your racist monologe at a concert, nobody lies about someone saying the n word, no one lies about you laughing at a ablelist joke. You are not as shiny as you appear. The glitter dancing on the skin. The decades might've washed it out.
Dear Brendon Urie
It's better to burn than to fade away. For years I have watched each of my heros burn
Dear J.K. Rowling,
Dear Gloria Steniem.
Every author I ever loved homophic.
Dear Kevin Clash
Dear Michael Jackson
Dear Bill Cosby
Every artist I every loved accused of pedophila
Dear lance armstrong
Dear basketball players
Every athlete I aspired to be like a drug used
Dear Bill Clinton
Every politican I admired accused of ****** assault
You have all proved to me that there are no heroes that there is no one to look up to.
I am sad more than angry, sad that you couldn’t be bothered to love the world as they love you.

I have paraphrased
my struggle on this page.
To find some meaning

A dog is dead in Portland Oregon on the highway.
No one does anything after all it’s not their dog.
The owner, a boy, will only have the name tag to cry over.
The lost
A woman dies after ten years in the senior home.
The staff bury her with a plain tombstone.
No family comes to weep over her grave.
The forgotten
A teacher hides their students under the desks and in cabinets.
There is nowhere for them to hide.
They are shot five times in the abdomend.
The willing sacrifice.
A young man stands at a walkway, which overlooks a highway.
He secures a paper to the bridge.
He jumps.  
The fighters
Do you hear the people screaming?
Close your eyes and listen.
Listen.

the word die used to
just slid, simply,
with nothing to hide.
Now the word die
sits in my throat,
like a pill half swallowed.
I'm not sure whether to bring it down or up.

My tears trail one another
mixing, and intwining,
asking each other:
Why is she crying now?

I love you,
no matter how much I hate you.
Its just that simple,
just that complicated,
and just that amazing.

the words I meant to say
are crumbling.
Come get them before they're blown to ash

When you talk to me,
for a second
I am so much less complicated,
my thoughts so much less clouded.
Your eyes are warm and lined
It's going to be ok, they tell me,
And if it isn’t I’ll be right there with you to face it

half finished sentences roll in my mouth
threatening their next words
almost like bombs.
they contain secrets
that would change my word in a moment
they hold my downfall
they hold my rise
and always on the tip of my tongue they roll
when I'm around you

A serious suicide attempt
earns you six sessions
that should have been administered before
I tried to hurt myself

no one loves you when you're choking
on your own breath
the look at the rope binding you
and believe it is beyond them
to begin unraveling them

in the hollow of my bones you rattle
striking panic in my brain
but from collapsing I must refrain
a finger strokes my wrist
my hands shake
as I realize my pulse is there
and I could destroy it

Do not cry
Do not worry you didn’t do enough
I am free from the burden that I carried every where
Or maybe I looked to my wrists
And realized that there were no shackles
Only the ones I drew there

For a while you thought you were the only one on the bus
A lonely passenger on a bus with no stops
And no driver
darkness around you
A bump jolts the bus
A foot off the seat you will see them
other passengers too absorbed in their own music
to see the things in front of them
Will you raise the shades and see the light of the outside
Will you hit the pause button for a moment and enjoy this with me?

i miss you,
not because you left,
but because we don't talk how we used to
I enjoyed being uncomfortable with you

the background music plays,
it goes like this:
i want to die,
i want to die,
i want to die,
and that begins to be more
interesting than the film

love is about the quiet moments
the moments between breathing and speaking
it is about just holding someone
not talking
not speaking
just holding them

But it is also about the things you don't say
the shame that pours across your face
as you look at your loved one
the chasm that the things we don't say make
is the one that will cut deepest.

she choked on the petals
while the rest of us
savored their sickly sweet taste

i like how you keep the word 'suicide'
locked up as if its for my own good

its a fun way to remind me, that i am a broken peice of furniture
that could crack under the weight of any one thing

i take my ant-depressaints dry
the move down my throat
unwillingly
chalkly in my mouth
and sticky in my throat
sticking there.
taking it dry is a punishment for taking the pill at all

when your heart is thumping
out of your chest
leaving brusies wher the thumps
falls on your chest
and your wearing the peices
it can't hold on your sleeve
you begin to wonder if this love,
this heartbreak will define this year
if the sorry they tell
will come to ring in your ears
an echo to cooling of the choles
will the sorry come to burn in your throat
with a sting you can't shallow
like the depression pills you take dry

If nothin else therapy
reminds me that I am still
a broken piece of a bowl,
that needs someone else to fix it

I kept saying:
no one loves me
no one thinks I'm beatiful

What I really meant:
I don't love me
I don't think I'm beatiful

These words are my veins on the page
I’ve pulled them out with a pen
taking care not to break them or bleed them
just for this poem

These metaphors are my skin
simply a sheet to hide the true meaning
I’ve made sure not to damage the layers
just for this poem

These similes are my hair
woven into different shapes
I got the whole hair, by the roots
just for this poem

This ink is my blood and tears
a mixture so fine it never bleeds on the page
I’ve mixed them both together
just for this poem

Just for this poem
I will give give my body
just for the last drop of ink
I will give you all my blood

I am learning
to not make my sadness
a metaphor

but this is not one of those times'

today my sadness is everything from the ceiling fan,
to the lonely moon in the sky

Me and happiness
are not holding hands yet
no,
we are more like an awkward couple
walking our fingers towards each other

You ask me questions,
Say more you say
Say more about suicide
Say more about your relationship with your parents
Say more
Say less my brain says
Say less about your feeling
more about your friends
Say less about your dreams
more about the season
Say less, the world will be a better place

depression just hugs me
in all the right places
like a dress that you've tailored

it hugs me because after I've had
two panic attacks and a cry
I want to thank the giver of these wonderful gifts

I’m just trying to push
the hurt out through my veins

I’m just trying to
bleed and bruise my way out

I’m just wondering if
I can make my pain physical and valid

The first time I made a watercolor
was unclear and inconcise
a bleeding between emotions; of colors overlapping
the brush tasted blue and loved it
wanted to spread it across the page
A permanently stained brush always leaves a mark of its first color
bleeding into all others

Yes, I am still alive.
but I
no longer enjoy
the senation of
air entering
my lungs

to lay among the grass and flowers
is to speak their language

just let me suffer alone
I’ve done it before
I’ll sit all alone on the bathroom floor,
I’ll leave all the doors closed.

I don’t want to be seen,
on the fourth day of no shower
I don’t to be seen
when I can’t move or scream

I do not want you to worry
don’t bother to check in
I’ll be a mess that belongs in the bin
do keep your eyes of me, keep your eyes blurry

So leave your worry here and leave
but please do not grieve
you do all you can
but in the end it was my hand

I hoped  
that tomorrow it would be better
but it wasn’t
I still spent 2 hours crying in the bathroom,
not being able to move, breath,
or understand the silent tears on my face
I still spent hours weaving
narratives that never did happen.
I still couldn't answer what I’d do in 15 years

Hope where are you,
I thought you were a light in the dark
A flare in a vast ocean, a sign of life
instead you are nothing,
you do not sit by me when I still spend hours crying
you do not sit by me as I imagine a worse tomorrow
you are somewhere else entirely, and I am alone.

I just want to lie here
but you signal a new day
I try to shut you out
in every possible way

I pull the covers above my head
I bury my face in the bed.
I clamp my eyes closed,
yet you make me sleep in throws.

I will not wake to a new day
as hopeless as the rest
I do not want to see the sunrise
please just let it set

I do not want to wake
just to see my hands shake
just to see my soul break
I have nothing of this day to make.

Please just let me lie here
as the sun streams in
Please just let me cry here
as the sun streams in

You reflect
and    
        D
                   R
                            I
           F
                      T
                                                                ­                  n
                                                       i      ­   b
                                                               ­             a               o
                                                     With ariel  r                       ws  so wispy
                                                     almost spectral in nature


                  But shadows swirl in you as well,
                  darkness within light.
                  tiny little rainbows
                  scatter out of sight


Fill up the sky
with your flight
Up up up
don’t look back

                                    Up up up
                                    till the pressure
                                    makes you crack