mister, i have to say this
not to your face, just to get out
what was a medicine
now a poison

it's the longing, mister
that you fake, that i accept
because everytime we try to touch
we both disappear to each other

don't you notice?
you've been alive way longer
than me, mister

just
this is where i **** up:
i thought you were perfect

xix. but if i were to die by my own hands (my honest dying note would probably mention my uni life) would he turn a blind eye like he always does or would he erase me as if i was never there? i'll never know because i wont die just because i want to. i'll never know, of course, because i'll live and graduate and i'll be the one who forgets him, not vice versa

the only reason im here is to run away & i failed, so i keep seeking for ways to flee, i keep fighting my own shadow. why would anyone study their soul out just to get into the so called best uni in the country that is far away from their home, i wonder as well. my intention was not to study, i wanted to die. im breathing fine. sometimes i get too excited it's so uncomfortable & when i fall it's a dry and dusty abandoned well, you know that my vision stays in the ground. doesnt the soil look lovely, i wonder as well.

the only reason im here is because i am alive, i dont know why it is so obvious to other people yet it's an epiphany to me. i shouldnt be alive today. i shouldnt have survived 2014, let alone 2015 & 2016. it's almost may and now i start to think how nice it will be to be old and have more space for peace rather than keeping chaos as a pet.

this is embarrassing, sure, but sometimes i think i need to feel embarrassed. do you get what i mean, because i kinda dont. anyway, if this is something i can be proud of, i'll without any doubt brag to my parents and post it all over my social media. ive never liked bragging online, but if it's so good i'll think so hard of why not and still not get any good answer. it's a curse for vain people to get trapped inside a body with low self esteem. (fact)

maybe i made a mistake when i entered this uni. all i could think of was death, i didn't think i would be alive until halfway to graduation. now i dont worry about when i'll be able to die anymore, i just worry about when i'll be able to properly study just like the student i used to be. i just worry if i can graduate on time, i just worry if i can graduate with honor. how naive this kid is, i hope she remembers how she totally ruined her grades last semester. (no i dont mean thats the right pronoun i just go with the flow)

there is no flow, of course. why am i saying these things on a poetry website rather than on my rant blog, i wonder as well. i worry about the future & now all the pictures have me in them. i have many regrets about the past but they are a part of what makes me myself. (certainly not a claim that i have a clear sense of self) as for the present, i dont really like being here. i still feel like it will feel so great to not exist at all. but im breathing in anticipation. is it believable, my looking forward to the future, i wonder as well.

let's never leave the bed, not even for a bit
you can stay here forever, you'll be amazed
by how much you can do, horizontally
nothing poetic, only tragedy is expected
here, for a very very long time
that's what we've been longing for, isn't it?
i owe you much, my friend!
just this one more thing, my friend!
could you do it for me? could you do it for us?
could you please
stay
stay in the bed.

carrying a bridge, i
put myself between
you
r uncountable

thighs. i have one, sometimes
hating itself it wants to be
split in two, sometimes
it wants to have a hole, a room
to peer through

she is my only friend, but
she costs more than my worth

(if this was about the scale,
i broke it already)
sometimes i feel old, not cold
when the temperature drops
i stick my tongue out
and warm myself
from
with
in

(if this was about my grades,
it should've ended
before it even started)

this, a figure
i failed
a long time ago:
a child, a daughter
a face, a friend
a student, a spoiled rich brat
each one has become a stranger
fast
and sharp, right where i want
the hole gone.

i sit in the parking lot
longer than at class
i eat in my car more
than anywhere

the answer sheet is not mine, mister
it's hers
always

one breath is too loud
decades spent with ears covered
blocking all the noise

is this liquid? i ask
myself because there's no one else
in this room i fall in love with indulgences
never falling out again
i'm a loyal lover of unhealthy desires
if you can call it desire
then i can call myself a lover
of anything that goes through my throat
in and out, in and out
i ask, is this liquid? the bed sheet
is white, translucent at the part
where i lay myself
dry

the dispenser is out of water & i'm
going to die of dehydration

no kidding. i've really thought about it
and considered it as a way out,
but the pain is unnecessary

so i decided to cross it out.
that's an ancient game already
i've forgotten all the rules.