I cannot breathe.
I cannot breathe.
My heart beats too quickly.
My mind will not cease.

There is an itch
Under both skin and muscle.
There is an itch
I scratch till I bleed; it will not settle.

This is not a display of my personality
The politeness; "yes, sir," "no, ma'am"
This is not who I normally strive to be
"Thank you," "no, thank you," "please."

I am beyond help now
I understand this clearly
I am lost now
To this itch inside me.

Is craving such a painful thing
Normally?
Is loneliness such a lonely beast
Usually?

Is air this hard to breathe
Normally?
Is it this difficult to see
Usually?

Does the itch burn like hellfire
Normally?
Does the itch attack the mind
Usually?

Is the itch a chronic condition
Normally?
This is unbearable
Help me.

Though none of those who should know me have
Shown any indication that they see
Though those with whom I should be safe
Have never spared the time of day on me
I come to them broken now
I come knowing they may never read
I come to them shattered, beaten down
And this is my plea:

Save me, save me
Don't save me, please
I've lived and loved
And none of it came free

Hold me, hold me
Don't hold me at all
I've cried and tried
To break my own fall

And it's now that they open their eyes
And yet, they do not see
But it's now that I've had enough
Of survival and surviving
I'm ready to stop my heart
I'm prepared, never again, to sing
I'm ready to still my hand
And this is my plea:

Love me, love me
Don't love me, I beg
Until my blood is cold
And the last nail is in my coffin

Forgive me, I'm sorry
Don't accept my apologies
Or read the letter I will write
In the dawn of the morning

It is now that I consider how
Best to spare myself pain
Who will attend my funeral and
Who will attend my wake
It is now that I contemplate
The shock of the unfortunate
Who may find my lifeless body
Long after I've sent myself away.

I will not beg for a savior
I do not require pity
I will not be persuaded to stay here
Not in the country, suburbs, or city
I will not think on those who will hurt
For what I've decided or the words I've spoken
I am shattered irreparably
I will leave as I came: broken.

I cannot reach my Muses
And I'm beyond terrified
I can hear their voices
But there's no spark inside

Perhaps I've found another
And have not realised it yet
But the possibility doesn't halt the panic
I worry and I fret.

It seems muse has become affection
It seems inspiration is admiration
It seems awe is now infatuation
It seems I cannot deal with this situation.

Muse, I am searching
Dear Muse, please come home
Muse, please stop hiding
Please see this blockade gone.

My Muse, do not remain silent.
My Muse, are you blocked from me?
My Muse, my love and inspiration
My kingdom for you to be free.

I'm in that mood
When I want a collar round my neck
Though I'll still be in control
Two bodies writhing, one bed.

I'm in that mood
When I shiver at my thoughts
And I prowl ever-restless
The house is freezing, I'm blazing hot.

I'm in that mood
When I'd beg for anything
And time is too slow
My eyes are open, I'm blind with need.

I'm in that mood
When shame is a foreign entity
And humiliation is impossible
Or perhaps exhilarating.

I'm in that mood
When I can't contain the desperation
And I'm far past coherent or sane
So very rushed yet patient.

I'm in that mood
Where I'd curse anyone who set me free
And my mind is an unending chant,
'Collar me, collar me.'

Drinking bottles of Guinness
"Only socially, I can't stand the stuff"
Fatality in the finesse
Of 'classiness' and *****.

Smoky rooms and jazzy tunes
A cigar hanging from the lips
Fatality in the finesse
Of small talk and swaying hips.

Winehouse's drawl pours from the speakers
That are modern in their vintage style
Fatality in the finesse
Of hidden grimaces and fake smiles.

Every conversations the same
In it's lack of personality
Fatality in the finesse
Of sociability.

I will see him tomorrow
And we will restore the status quo
Because I can't sort through the mess in my head
Can't find a topic that won't let the worry show.

I will see him tomorrow
And this heartbroken poetry will cease
Because I'm better at controlling what I want
When it's physically in my reach.

I will see him tomorrow
And I'll see her image hazily beside him
And I'll put down my metaphorical sword
Because it's not a fight I can win.

I will see him tomorrow
And my heart will see them both together
But I won't say a single undue word
Won't even ask if he's doing better.

I will see him tomorrow
Like nothing ever went wrong
And I will wrap my arms around him
And remember his favorite songs.

I will see him tomorrow
But I will not break down and cry
Because, beyond the hurt, I understand
The ever-present want to die.

I will see him tomorrow
And, my previous poems be ******,
I'll keep my mouth, heart, and mind shut
As I cope the only way I can.

I will see him tomorrow
And reach out for another
Because I never had and I never will have
The right to claim or tether.

I will see him tomorrow
And I won't speak of Summer or Fall
I'll remain detached though I am not
Though I'm not calm or collected at all.

I will see him tomorrow
And she will not be there in person
And I will not yearn or reach for either
If only because I love them.

The first thought in my head
At the sight of the two together
Was, 'they don't match, but they fit,'
Like the beginning of Fall meeting the end of Summer.

Bright and outspoken
Warm summer days
Beside the quiet thoughtfulness
Of Autumn's leisurely change.

It's beautiful and intriguing
It's not meant for paper alone
So I'll shout it from the highest mountains
And write it in the most-heard songs.

Summer's heat speaks of joy
Though the nights talk of pain
And through the smiles and laughter
Is evidence of life's strain.

Autumn is quiet but opinionated
And riddled with hurricanes
But the light of Summer
Will never let Autumn fall again.

Summer writes of beautiful chaos
Autumn writes of simple existence
They don't match, but they fit
I'm amazed every time I see them.

See, the first thought in my head
At the sight of the two together
Was, 'they don't match, but they fit,"
Like the beginning of Fall meeting the end of Summer.