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Sep 2020 · 145
Monday Morning Medium Roast
Q Sep 2020
I imagine your hands dwarfing someone else's and the image puts something bitter on the back of my tongue
I imagine you sweeping back hair that doesn't curl rebelliously at your fingers, insisting your hand stay with them
Words wet with dismay stick to my dry throat and if I could cough them out thered be nothing but different configurations of "stay"
I imagine your lips covering some spectre of a woman who is not me and I am amazed by the vastness of my hate

I remember the warmth of your chest as you pressed into my side, crowded me to the table, and my heart leapt into my throat
I couldn't think past awareness of you, felt you down my spine and into my shoes
That little was enough to do to leave me gasping
I'd be frigid if I insisted I could ever do without it

I remember kissing the mouthpiece of a roll and inhaling acrid smoke and you pressed the tip of your spliff to my lips before I had finished coughing and
Chased smoke like it was an ever-distant horizon vanishing into my chest
I am a ruined woman, stuck dreaming and waiting, there's humiliation that comes with this sort of infatuation

You get me tense, keep me constantly on the precipice of something, torso dangling over a railing, always threatening the possibility of free fall
I can hardly deal with my day to day humanity, the depravity you spark is beyond me and my meager means of processing

You look at me and I feel distinctly underdressed, publicly indecent, unnecessarily yearning as though I've never once known decorum
I fumble as I rarely do, trip over words like they're untied shoes, and my heart is imprinted under the press of your thumb
I've caught myself often wondering if I am merely imagining the heat of the summer and I am roasting in your company
My skin oversensitive, my heart aches with fresh burns, but when you leave I freeze and claw you back to me

The way that my mind, ever caterwauling, overthinking, shaking is so immediately quiet and still to give your voice room
That the world narrows to a point and the buzz of reality fades and I can focus on you
That the fear I cradle is smothered by the weight of your consideration
There's so much that qualifies as perfection that its unfamiliarity makes me consider running from whatever it is brewing between you and me.
hello again
Sep 2018 · 430
Deafening Silences
Q Sep 2018
There are words in a million languages
That pass between our eyes alone
They piece themselves together in my mind
And rest on the tip of my tongue

Was it just the whiskey talking?
Every word you said sounded like ***
Was it just the liquor talking?
Was I just a bit of fun?

Because I know better than to trust or lean
I’m far too smart to count on you for anything
I know not to bother with vulnerabilities
So why did soft words from you instantly break me?

I don’t lean into arms in the dark of night
And suddenly feel that I can breathe
I don’t hold to anyone for any reason
And momentarily feel my mind freeze

But it was quiet for a second, it was silent
There were no hands on my neck, nothing violent
It was bliss for a second, I was peaceful
Like I’d gone to bed starved and woke up full


I’m needy at my most honest
I need someone to hold me together
I could fix myself if I wanted
But I’m too tired to bother

I’m jealous at my most real
I’ll wrap around you like gauze
I’ll watch you be you with a smile
While hoping the whole world ***** off

I’ll sit with you like this
With the words you whisper down my neck
I told you I’d never been honest before
So please, don’t leave me a mess
This is one of two poems I’ll be posting before the year ends. Everything else I’ve written this year will be in a book I’ll publish closer to December. The information about that will be in the notes of the next poem for any one who’s interested.
I’ll also write a lot more about the person(s) who have affected me so greatly over my time on this site.

Thank you for sticking with me for all these years.
Dec 2017 · 6.8k
My Last Poem
Q Dec 2017
So this journey has come to an end
Whether you don’t know me at all
Or think of me as your best friend
This is my goodbye, my final call.

Thank you for the adventure; thank you for your time. I have nothing left to give, no words left to rhyme. This is my last, I’ll leave with a whisper. This is all I have, what I began writing for.

Should you ever neeed a shoulder, please find me. No matter where I go in life, where you need me is where I’ll be. Hold me tightly in your thoughts and I will hold you in my heart.

Merry meet, dear rhymers, and merry part.
This is the last of my poetry. Thank you for sticking it out with me for the past four years. I've decided to focus on other goals I have since my life is essentially falling apart. Poetry was an outlet for me, but it more feels like another way to indulge my burgeoning escapism.

So, I've decided to take away the place I escape to so I can relearn how to face problems head on. I've got a lot of self-adjustments to make in the near future and this is just one of them.

Of course, if I am contacted on HP, I'll come flying back to respond because it's been home for years, but I will (most likely, hopefully, probably) no longer post here.

Again: Thank you for the fond memories,
Dec 2017 · 777
If You'd Be So Kind
Q Dec 2017
As to take my hands
And break every single bone
If you'd only be so kind
Take my heart and leave me alone
But don't touch my mind
My body is yours to harm
But if you'd be so kind
Please, leave me my mind.

My age may harm me in eighty years
And you may still peel my skin from muscle
But if you would show me a kindness
I swear I wouldn't struggle.
Death doesn't scare me
Neither does pain
I can take on the world
With little more than my brain.

I'm liable to survive
Through what I'm put through
Then come back with a vengance
And rip the heart out of you.
So you may hurt me now
Go ahead, be my guest
But if you leave me alive
I'll have your last breath.
Written in 2014 and rotting in my drafts since.
Dec 2017 · 539
Q Dec 2017
I've never believed you could absorb someone's energy
But I'd like to try it with you.
Open a vein, slit an artery
Drink you blood, your essence, through.

I want to crack your skull, delicately, thinly
See the wonders that brain of yours hides
I want to open your chest, rip your ribs apart
And study the workings of your insides.
This poem isn't finished now, nor will it be later. Which is a **** shame because I'm pretty sure I was going to crescendo the insane vibe I had going on and then take about 3,000,000 steps back from it.
Dec 2017 · 469
Q Dec 2017
It feels something like leaning over
The top of a tall building and staring down
At all the people who are and will do
The things I could but rather wouldn't

Perhaps it's the introduction of happiness
That's robbed my ability to express in words
When I am no longer feeling content
And can only reach for poetry as an outlet.
This poem isn't finished now, nor will it be later.
Dec 2017 · 759
Q Dec 2017
At the very least, I am aware of my regression
I find myself grasping for the pillars of my past
To ground me in the torrential rains and floods

I reached for a cigarette and it fixed nothing at all
I reached for the knife and it settled me for a moment
I reached for the religion that alienated me and my family

Within the music I used to listen to I found peace.
I found tears I hadn't realized I needed to shed.
And though the teachings are still to raw to read
I latched to the pillar of religion and it once calmed me.
Written during one of the worst times in my life prior to this week. This poem isn't finished now, nor will it be later.
Dec 2017 · 147
Q Dec 2017
My* body writes this as I float through it
I am above and below and within my body.
I am quintessentially outside and without it.
I am not certain where I reside or what I am.

This may be me, a pseudo-consciousness
Amalgamated into an I into a body that doesn't exist.
I can feel my body's heart shiver and squirm
Inside of my chest, I am aware it is fighting.

My body's heart is fighting and that is wrong
Neither I nor my contain organs or space
Thus the body cannot exist and neither can the heart
And I am once more lost in the deep waters.

There is an abundance of nothing that stretches
Beyond my comprehension, it is vast, unending
I do not know how to enter or leave it
I merely know it is and is not with me.

I would like to pass quietly.
In the space between an inhale and a heartbeat.
My life feels fraudulent, useless and unreal.
The body does not carry on as it carries ever onwards.
Meet my bpd
Dec 2017 · 720
You Did Well
Q Dec 2017
You incinerated us with your passion
Your smile, your joy
You did enough. You did well.

We’d wish for double your time
Triple, quadruple, more
But you did enough. You did well.

I am proud of you, as one of many
Who know you as much as they didn’t
You did enough. You did well.

I love you and if there’s an after
I know you are in it
You did enough. You did well.
Dec 2017 · 350
Q Dec 2017
I have lost everything in this moment.
Seven years.
Seven short years.
Word hard, do well.
I will make it there soon.
Rest easy, angel.
Dec 2017 · 520
Q Dec 2017
let it run down your spine like a shiver
and wrap round your wrists like rope
let it climb up your veins like vines
and fill up your throat till you choke.

are you waiting for someone to find you?
are you thinking of your other half?
does the want trip up your daily struggle
with dreams of a something that lasts?

then, let it tear up your heart like a lost lover
let it catapult you higher like hope
let it guide you along like road signs
let it wash your expectations like soap.
Dec 2017 · 318
Q Dec 2017
"I'm not looking for anything right now."
Because I'm focusing on me
I don't mean to lead you on
But flirting is fun and if you like me
I'll treat you like the one.

I will never reject you outright
If you never say it yourself
I don't mean to lead you on
But the game is fun and if you want heat
You can slow-cook yourself.

I don't want to go on a date with you
But it's cute that you're asking
I don't mean to lead you on
But jealousy is fun and if you look at me
You'll see my hips swaying.

He likes me like you said you do
I'm not answering him either
I don't mean to lead you on
But competition is fun and if you want me
You'll fight till you're the winner.

"I'm not looking for anything right now."
That's technically true
I don't mean to lead you on
But lies are fun and if you push hard enough
You might just pull me into the mood.
Nov 2017 · 315
Q Nov 2017
He spoke with his fingertips
They danced lightly on my desk
A man of few words
But I heard what he said

He spoke with his fingertips
They skittered to and fro and back
His hands spoke the words
His audible voice lacked.

He spoke with his fingertips
Tapped his way into my heart
He never had much to say
But his words were a work of art.
Nov 2017 · 364
I Understand
Q Nov 2017
The feeling that you get when you’re alone with yourself
When you can feel the emptiness inside you swell
But you can’t tell if you’re living or dying
And you turn to pain because you’re desperately trying

I understand.

That yawning space behind your eyes and smile
When you want to rest for a long, long while
And you pretend you’re okay because you must be
But tear into yourself as the quietest plea

I understand.

When you push your fingers down your throat
And try to be silent as you gag and choke
Telling yourself that you’re still not there
Ripping at your thighs and stomach and hair

I understand.

When you crave love so bad it feels like longing makes your heart beat
And no one notices so you believe you’re unworthy
When you beg for help without saying a word
And wonder if you’ll ever find a cure

I understand.

Let my words be my arms, wrap them around yourself tightly
Let your loved ones be my eyes, let them see you as I see
Let this be everything I intend it to be
Let it be my response to your unheard plea.

When you have no love that you can find or see
You have, do, and will have love from me
Whether we’ve met once or a million and one times
I will listen to the things you bury in your mind.

You are loved; you are special to me
You are perfect; you are beyond pretty
Your story is not meant to end here like this
I understand; so I beg you: live.
Oct 2017 · 363
Q Oct 2017
You are mine, through and through
If only because I want you.
I'm prepared to outline, no hints or clues,
Everything I want to do.

I can't have you though if I don't have it all
I won't keep you though if I can't make you fall
Won't crave you if you aren't in for the long haul
I'm not asking you to kneel, I'm demanding that you crawl.

If you are thinking why are those not thoughts I know
If you are breathing why is your breath not what my lungs blow
If your heart is beating why is that pulse not under my ribs
If you are living why is that life not the one I live?

Undo the stitches of every atom that makes up your skin
Give me your strings and pieces and I'll make you new again.
Let me create you from dust, and water; bring you into being with love
Let me craft you as I want you; all I need is your trust.

And then you will be mine, the way you already are.
And then I will give an inch, will allow us to start.
You will be mine, the way I want you to be.
I will have all of you. You will have some of me.
Oct 2017 · 640
The Last
Q Oct 2017
This is the last thing I write with you in mind
You thought I've been writing for you
I don't write for those who need my time
Only when it best suits them to.

This will remain short and sweet, I've no energy to rant
This will remain a reminder not to continually reach out a hand
This will remain a stamp of me feeling closer than ever to done
This will remain exactly what it is, a poem for you: the last one.
Sep 2017 · 247
Open Wound
Q Sep 2017
I am bleeding but not dying
I want to go but am not trying
I'm reaching but not flying
I'm screaming but not lying.

I feel something bitter at the back of my tongue when I see them
We both know I am tethered here now, will do nothing, am bound.
But jealousy burns in my chest like bile and hisses, demands to know when
We both know I have no answer, no timeline for my touchdown.

You think I won't, you know it, I've been here so long
You think I care about a promise whispered in a heartbeat.
I want to rip out my esophagus and wind it round my lungs
I want to peel back my skin, carefully separate my veins, and bleed.

What am I doing here?

I cannot, will not, I refuse to live.

Yet here I am without you

I hate it.

If you knew where you were going, why didn't you invite me?
I would follow you wherever you said you wanted to go.
Instead I sit on empty promises and hang onto life and my mother's pleas.
I will tear apart my mind and body and bury myself in winter's first snow.

I am not okay.
You are not here.
I am not there.

I cannot fly.

Sep 2017 · 328
Q Sep 2017
I am begging for help
I have been here before
I know how this goes
I am begging for help
But my lips remain closed.
Sep 2017 · 241
Q Sep 2017
"I'm okay," I whisper, stubbornly forcing my jagged edges back together.
"I'm okay," I murmur to my favorite knife, and it believes me as much as I do.
"I'm okay," I tell my ceiling, and count the breaths I'm still taking.
"I'm okay," I insist to my reflection, and I pretend I believe it is me.
"I'm okay," I mouth to my computer, and it distracts me until I believe.
"I'm okay," I think, and I do not believe myself, so I will say it once more.

"I'm okay," I whisper, stubbornly forcing my jagged edges back together.
Aug 2017 · 229
Make Me Real
Q Aug 2017
I will reach out the same hands I used to push the world away
And grasp to it like a child
Do not leave me alone right now or I will cease to exist.

I will fade, eventually, one day, maybe; but I will not fade like this.

I will shake apart into the billion pieces I ripped myself into
And scatter myself in the wind.
If I am apart, I cannot, all at once, be yanked from my body.

There's is no pull but the one I feel, I know something's got me.

I can feel the panic creep up my spine and constrict my lungs
Hold my hand please
I am not ready, I don't want to leave again, I can't endure another crash.

I curl into the tightest of ***** and pray this moment will pass.

I would that you, someone, would make me real.
I have tried and failed.
In this moment, I exist and I believe it.

Tomorrow, I will float above myself and know.
I will know we are all a lie.
I will question why I pretend at living and try to cease it.

Paranoia will cover my brain and tell me the truth:
None of this is real. I am not real.
But I would like to real. I would that you, someone, would make me it.
Aug 2017 · 338
A Lot Like
Q Aug 2017
Moving on feels a lot like forgetting you existed with me
And finding creative ways to exclude you from a story.

Growing up feels a lot like consequences from old actions
And finally getting around to kicking bad habits.

Reaching dreams feels a lot like stress and pain
And doing every job for a spare bit of change.

Educating myself feels a lot like wasting time
And looking for interests I know I won't find.

Self-healing feels a lot like strategic avoidance
And re-bottling things how the therapist thinks is best.

Maturity feels a lot like a looser tongue and desperation
And emptying onto someone in hopes that they'll understand.

Living feels a lot like survival by and of those least fit to
And pretending I've got it sorted until someone tells me that I do.
Jul 2017 · 4.5k
Breakup Sex
Q Jul 2017
*** and cigarettes and bad decisions stained into bedsheets
A good idea gone rogue in a moment by the chase and retreat
Words bitten off before they emerge and a sudden sense of regret
The ins and outs and turns and twists confined to breakup ***.

What feels good can't hurt you until its not good anymore
Reality doesn't touch the bedroom until someone opens the door
Grasping to skin like it's what we had and reluctantly letting go
The push and pull of dumb ideas and a lack of self control.

An awkward smile all the while thinking that this was a mistake
A peck of a kiss, barely a touch of the lips, and sanity far too late
Stains on the skin that the shower can't wash, they've soaked down to bone
The knowledge that gasps and quiet laughs doesn't mean we aren't gone.

*** and cigarettes and bad decisions stained into bedsheets
A good idea gone rogue in a moment by the chase and retreat
Words bitten off before they emerge and a sudden sense of regret
The ins and outs and turns and twist confined to breakup ***.
Jun 2017 · 1.9k
To You Who Will Never Exist
Q Jun 2017
First let me say I cannot be fully sorry
I cannot give you the life I wanted
I don't have the money or the stability
To love you the way I've promised I would
Should I let you exist and be everything to me
I would not treat you the way I wished I was
When I was just a child looking for love.

You won't exist because I refuse to let you
Because I looked at my own mother and asked
"Why did you have me?"
I can't be a parent that would never put that question in your head.
You won't exist because I am not strong enough to let you.
I am sorry for that.

I will mourn you. I have mourned you.
You are two inches long and know nothing
Have done nothing and deserve none of this
Yet and still, you won't exist because you will be something
You will be someone.
You will be someone I will fight to love and provide for
And I will fail.

You won't exist because I look in the mirror
And I see someone who I would ****.
And I cannot provide from the grave.
Nor will I leave you to fight for a life I couldn't give.
Yet and still, I will imagine I could.
And I will hate myself in the way you have no capacity to do
I will hate me for you.

You will never know what it is to smile or frown
You will never laugh or cry
I will never see you roll or walk or speak
And I will never shower you in love
Because I will never allow you to exist in who I am now
And so you won't exist.

But I will think of you when I next slit my wrists.
I will think of two inches of perfection that I couldn't ensure safety.
I will think of two inches and what could have been
I will think of the first time you would curl a hand around my finger
And I will cry for you and tell you that I'll join you
Despite you never existing to care to begin with.

You will not exist anywhere aside from a single picture in a scan
And within my memories.
You will not exist to anyone but me if I let you.
But in the absence of your life, I will immortalize and remember you.
You have no name. You have a name.
I will never know which name fits you better.

I will get on a flight taking me away from where
You ceased and never began to be.
I will bury the memory of you deep in my mind
On the surface of my thoughts where you will thrive.
I will imagine chubby fingers grasping at earth in wonder
And whispering all the dreams you could and would reach into your ear
I will imagine what could be if I wasn't what I am today.

I will go home. I will put my life together and heal.
I will create a space for myself so that I can properly allow you to be.
And it will not be you who exists then.
And I will lament your loss when I am finally able to take care of you
Far, far too late.

I suppose I just need to say goodbye to you.
I have whispered it into myself several times
And been both grateful and remorseful that you cannot understand
And hope you will exist in the after that I've never believed in
That you will grow and know that your lack of existence
Was not a decision lightly made.

I will comfort myself in thinking you will never know
What it is to have a father who neither loves you nor your family
I will comfort myself thinking you will never worry over the money we don't have
I will comfort myself thinking you will never see the state of the world I chose not to bring you into.
You will not exist and these comforts will be empty.

Because I imagine you as a little girl with curly hair
And a smile so bright it would rival the sun and change the world
I imagine you as a little boy with a heart so big seven billion people would instantly feel loved
I imagine you as an avid reader, the way I was, forever shoving books into your desk
I imagine you as a graduate with endless potential at your fingertips
But you will not be. You will not exist.

I think on what made you. And I wonder if I could look past it.
If I could find it in me to love you the way you would deserve.
I love you now. I hate you now. I want to cradle you in my arms.
I will not. You do not exist.
You will not exist for me to know.

I will see you when I sleep, I believe
I will see you as you were and as you may be
And I will wrap my arms around you as I push you away
And I will whisper the names you never had
And give you the gifts you'll never see.
I will blow a raspberry into the stomach you never developed
I will listen to giggles from the vocal chords you never contained.
You will not exist then.
But who you may have been will.

I will carry you on my shoulders in a dream
I will promise to keep your teeny lips in a smile
And you tiny head in the clouds.
I will dream your dreams for you and hope to know you
I will not dream your dreams. I do not know you.
You have no dreams.
And you will not exist.

You would be a number of pounds of beauty, had I let you.
You would be, if I only let you, a perfect number of inches, perfect down to the smallest decibel.
You would be quiet. You would be loud. I would complain of your colic.
You will be none of those things. I will not complain.
You will not exist.

I will breathe in the air you never did.
I will marvel the sky you never saw.
I will mourn the life you never lived.
I will love the you who never thought.
And yet and still, you will not exist.
Jun 2017 · 347
What I'll Take
Q Jun 2017
I've picked the pieces of my love from your skin
Carefully stitched them together and rolled them up
To neatly place inside my suitcase
To use on someone somewhere else.

I've packed the clothes that are stained with the scent of our lives
To join me at a sickening altitude until I am home
Where I will wash and scrub away the smell of you
Until I can bear to wear them without feeling unclean.

I've bundled up the good memories and set them aside
So that the bad won't taint them when I can finally remember this calmly
Meticulously pushing them into the last of this suitcase's space
And sitting on it to zip it tightly away, separated from me.

There is a lot that will be going home with me
I hope I take enough to leave a scar the same shape as me
I hope I will hope that wound closes for you
When I've been gone long enough to wish you well.
Jun 2017 · 330
What I Gave
Q Jun 2017
You're wondering what's happened lately
Are we okay? Is something wrong?
No, continue on in your ignorance
You didn't care last month, why bother now?

You seem irked when you question me
I want to laugh in your face, don't tempt me
All my unanswered questions and you expect
No fight when you suddenly have "inquiries"

If you so desperately want to know
Let me explain that it's simple:
I don't care.

Who are you aside from what you think?
What's a person with no personality?
I have no clue what goes on in your head
I have no clue who you are.

You find a million words to say to everyone but me
If I push, beg you to think, you get aggravated with me
If I'm mad you get mad as well and still won't speak
If I bring up my real worries- job school money us- you get angry

So **** it.

I'm tired of being angry and lonely and depressed
So instead of expecting a relationship
I started expecting to occasionally speak to my housemate
I don't feel disappointed that way.

Honestly, whatever at this point
I love you, sure, but ain't no love on earth gonna break me
So I don't need to know what you're thinking
I honestly can't be ****** to care

I don't need to know how you're doing
I don't want to speak with you
Don't give a **** who you're talking to
Don't wanna go outside and explore with you

I don't want to put in effort I'm never going to get back

I'm selfish like that.

I honestly don't know what a relationship feels like.
But hell if I'm not beginning to understand what it feels like to be a mother.
I've never been on a date. Thought that'd change with you.
I've never once felt appreciated in a relationship.

I've never really felt loved either. There were moments where you almost fixed that.
I've never been surprised in a relationship.
Always me planning, doing, pour my soul into-ing...
I've never been treated like I'm worth anything.
Period. By anyone, really.

And I expected so much of that from you.
Of course I'm angry with my expectations that high
You're a kid.
You don't have the means or the want to do any of that yet.

But I can't not expect it if I care about you romantically.
So I don't.
This is a platonic relationship.
You're a friend I'm helping with rent.
All of rent.
Without your help.
You're a kid. (I'm a kid)
So I expect nothing of you.
So I give nothing to you.
I hope you enjoyed what I gave.
It's all you're gonna get.
Written May 1st. Companion piece:
Jun 2017 · 674
And The Universe Was Silent
Q Jun 2017
They walked loudly through the forest
Never questioning from where they came
Never wondering of where they would go
And the forest was pristine and bustling with life
And the universe was silent.

They hungered once and grew weapons to sate them
Never remembering what the forest was
Never thinking of what they would make it
And the forest was red and quiet and furious
And the universe was silent.

They shivered in the rain and set the trees alight for heat
Never caring for the creamated land and animals
Never seeing the barren gounds they left behind
And the forest was empty and dead
And the universe was silent.

They starved and ripped at each other until they were dead
Never ceasing even when the pain was unbearable
Never beginning to see sense or regain their logic
And the forest was no longer a forest and they were no more
And the universe was silent.
May 2017 · 1.1k
If You Know Me
Q May 2017
If you've been here before you know the tone
That I took four years ago when I began posting poems
It's a tone and topic I'd thought I'd finally grown past
I am dishearted and disappointed when I once again ask:

Why am I alive?
I see no purpose, no joy, no fun in life.
What am I doing here?
Why didn't I end it long before this year?

I am tired. I am impossibly tired and I will be tired impossibly longer
I am done. I want it to end. I am ready to end. I have grown no stronger.
I am still as weak as the child with a knife and far too much strife to stay
I am little more than I was, with the addition of love that wears on me every day.

Why am I alive?
I am no longer despondent when I ponder this.
Why do I exist?
I can't be bothered to breathe with this emptiness.

This will be my last poem for some time, I can't bear to read through my own thoughts.
This will be my existence for more time, I can't make happiness from what is not.
Thank you for reading and commenting and being the sweet people of a poetry site.
I will be here, in a day or a year, to regale you with more of my thoughts of life.
Goodbye for awhile.
Apr 2017 · 407
Q Apr 2017
Though I have never felt my own legs quake
Though I stand firmly behind what decisions I make
Though regret is little more than a vital part of life to me
I consider my actions now; I am wracked with uncertainty.

The things I have choosen to do in life sit with me to vigil
I am far too weak as I currentlyam , my defences are fully riddled
With vulnerabilities I have exacted upon myself, I now review
The life I saw fit to live and the parts of it I now wish to undo.

Birth. I waver. That it may have never happened, that I didn't exist
The childhood I didn't savour. Despite the dreams it saw fit to twist
Pre-adulthood. I falter. I thought so much of what I thought I knew
My feeble hold on maturity. My newfound perplexion at what to do.

I am no longer the child with the world at fingertip and magic in my palm
I am little more than an adult with failing health and a shaky facade of calm
I am no longer stable, unchanging, and tough like the rock I was thought to be
I am wavering, quivering, shaking in terror; I am the manifestation of fragility.
Apr 2017 · 665
Life Is Right-Handed
Q Apr 2017
Life is right-handed
Just a little bit different
Just slightly inoptimal for you
Or perhaps you are inoptimal for life.

You live with your left hand outstretched
But recieve with only your right.
And the world was made ever so slightly
Without you in mind.

Belonging is overrated
Unless, of course, you already belong.
But you've never quite fit in a square box
You're slanted, just a bit.

Perfection is impossible
For all those who haven't acheived it, at least.
You've never been a failure, just
You've never really fit.

Life is right-handed and you
You are not.
You are not a victim, not marginalized
You are not excluded or left behind.

But you are left-handed
And Life is not
And the world was made ever so slightly
Without you in mind.
Apr 2017 · 484
Q Apr 2017
Look at me. Meet my eyes, I'll drag you in.
Love me obsessively. I'll bless you and forgive your sins.
Worship me. I'll redeem you in the eyes of your queen.
Give me monopoly. Give me power over you and all things.

I am the sight behind your eyes and the air within your lungs
I am the beat of your heart and the taste on your tongue
I am the thoughts within your mind and the stretch of your lips
I am the blood flowing through your veins and the motion of your hips.

I am the quintessential creator of you and this universe
I am the sheer force of nature in which you will immerse
I am the web in which you will stay
You will kneel and you will pray


I truly think my favorites of my own poems are the ones I can look back on three seconds after finishing them and feeling the bone-deep inquiry of, "what in the hell is wrong with me?"

This is what happens when I decide to try caps as a means of expression, something which I truly hate, for the first time.
Apr 2017 · 547
She Evolves
Q Apr 2017
She is evolving, has evolved, evolves right now
She sunk lower than before and soared straight up from the ground
She is who she was but she is also someone never before seen
She is and was evolving towards bigger, higher things.

She may land harshly and come to a gruesome, quick end
But the flight has always mattered more than the descent.
She may soar higher until her wings incinerate to dust
But she will evolve whether down on land or up.

She is evolving, call it a lifelong effort to transform
She's been becoming who she'll be since the day she was born.
She'll put in her all whether she receives failure or success
And she will evolve until she until she finally takes her rest.
Mar 2017 · 461
Q Mar 2017
I can't breathe. My heart is beating five times a second.
I'm dying, help me, please, please, I can't breathe.
The doctor in emergency said it's just anemia.
The lady in emergency said it's just anemia and heartburn.
The man in emergency said my heart is fine, fine, fine.

I don't believe it, I'm dying.

There are bumps in my throat and my nose is running
I'm sneezing and coughing and fatigued
I don't have a fever but my chest is killing me
My jaw, throat, and head hurt periodically. How can I not be dying?
*******. ******* for that.
I think I'd know **** well if I'm panicking by now.
This is real. This is what death feels like.
This isn't in my head. I'm not crazy.
Mar 2017 · 470
Q Mar 2017
I'm feeling like a pop quiz sweetheart
I hope to god you studied
I don't accept failing grades, no redos
It'll be the last you see of me.

Oh, I'm feeling testy
I wake up angry
I live in fury
Don't **** with me

Pass my "test," sweetheart. Pass it.
I only have so much patience.
I only have so much patience I can spare on you
I don't have the time or care to explain what I meant.

Just show me that this isn't a waste of time.
I'm not having the time of my life losing my mind.
If it's gonna go, it better be for someone who's at least trying
Don't make me regret this, sweetheart, it's your time to shine.
Mar 2017 · 473
Charles Bukowski
Q Mar 2017
I picked up four of your books
From the room of my late best friend
He taught me to enjoy reading poetry
Instead of just writing it.

He told me he liked my poems
I was second next to you.
I was reading your poetry
When he hung himself to "Hallelujah."

I don't enjoy your work the way he did
But I keep and read your books all the same
Because he saw something in your work
So I'll search until I find it as well.
Mar 2017 · 310
I'm Scum Because
Q Mar 2017
I wonder, if I'd killed myself before I met you, if we'd both be happier now
I'd take the first chance at a do over
I constantly wonder why I chose to do things like this
I constantly want to run as far as I can
As far as the next train station
So that I can stare at the mocking signs
That tell me to keep off the tracks

I wonder, twice a day, three days a week, how you'd react if I simply stepped past the yellow
How much of my blood would replace the yellow safety line
Would everything end in an instant
Would I feel pain
Would I have time to regret
To be as intensely sad as I am now
Would I have the wherewithal
To apologize in my head
But not with my lips

I consider everyone who passes me by
Perhaps they'd love me like this
Perhaps they'd treat me like that
Perhaps maybe possibly somehow
But I have no wishes at home
At home inbox them away and stare at nothing
And feel my heart beat itself to an early death
And wonder
What could possibly
Be taking it so long.

I don't want to be here.
I'm terrified to go.
But that's mattered less, lately.
Mar 2017 · 861
Q Mar 2017
There was a fork in the path and I chose right
And right was the wrong way to go
I could ponder the holdings that left had to offer
But the wrongs of right are all I know.

There was a fork in the path and I chose the less taken
And it seems it was abandoned for good cause
I could regret and bemoan my decisions now
But I am impossibly and urgently lost.

There was a fork in the path and I deviated from the map
Not a single person told me I'd gone the wrong way
And now I meander down roads not meant for me
Looking for shelter, a place to stay.
Mar 2017 · 418
Empty Funeral
Q Mar 2017
my childhood pastor stands behind the podium, above the pulpit.
he is pointing outwards, frozen in some caricature of godly passion.
below him, at the center of the pulpit, is my casket.
i am peaceful as i haven't been for years. i do not move.

through the windows on the doors seperating the lobby from the house
the rays of sunset climb up the pews and lap at the pulpit.
neither pastor nor i move until the sun has fully set.
neither pastor nor i move after the sun has fully set.

the pews are empty and uninviting; there is no one to be saved today.
the air crackles silently with promises i will never wake to know.
i will soon wake up from the dream of my funeral, as i always do.
i wonder if i will regret conscious lucidity once more when i wake.
Mar 2017 · 1.2k
I Bleed Pretty
Q Mar 2017
I have people to support and impress and make proud
I don't have the time or funds to afford breaking down
So don't take me seriously when I consider the knives too long
I'm an adult now, won't use the pain, am convinced it's wrong

But I do bleed pretty.

I bleed deep red, it's mesmerizing, stains the floor and bed
I bleed like molasses, slow drops hit the ground like lead
I crackle like a fireworks display, bubble up into vertigo
My vision gets hazy and the colors smear and the light glows

But everything gets better and I'm completely reformed
I'm no longer lonely or depressed or feeling unbearably worn
I don't choke back sobs when I'm in a crowd or at home
I don't stare at nothing and feel impossibly alone

But I do bleed pretty.

Now, I'd never touch a knife, never would go back to those days
When blood meandered down my arm in a thousand different ways
I'd never think twice, never consider diving into pain
And no knife on earth calls with a sugar-sweet whisper of my name

I am happy in what and where I've chosen, would never trade
I have no second thoughts, regrets, no uncertain days
I enjoy life, can't begin to fathom why I ever wanted it to end
I am satisfied with the lack of people I have to call friends

But I do bleed pretty.

A drop on the floor becomes a puddle so fast it intrigues me
One towel becomes four, it still smells like copper, isn't clean
The sound of a blade gently coaxing skin apart is bliss
Only heard when blood rushes in and out and all is quiet.

I do bleed pretty.
Mar 2017 · 278
Q Mar 2017
It is crowded.
People bustle and laugh and speak.
Each of them have lives and dreams and hopes and pains
Each of them have friends and family and love and are loved and
I am alone. I feel lonely.

Please help me.
Words die on the tip of my tongue, incinerated by the lack of a listening ear and
Thoughts die before they form for lack of conversation and
I am alone. I feel lonely.

I feel as though I am spinning into a magnificant crash landing and
Only vibrate to a stop when I am wrapped tightly in arms and
Feel the emptiness crush to a compacted version of itself and
I am alone. I feel lonely.

I stop breathing occasionally and panic when I can't remember how to inhale and
I wonder why I feel relief in those moments, just behind the terror and
I scold myself because I was never brave nor cowardly enough to and
I am alone. I feel lonely.

There was a time when I would bleed emptiness onto my floor and
Slice into my skin with a knife as dull as the world seems to be and
Starve it out of my body with a determined for of will and
I am alone. I feel lonely.

I am empty, exhausted now, too tired to coax the void out of me and
I can no longer remind myself that things will be better as they are not bad and
I instead stare into space and wait until my closed eyes will not reopen and
I am alone. I feel lonely.
Q Feb 2017
If family would turn you away and friends leave you to die
If the world fleece you down and colleagues wring you dry
Find peace and pleasure within yourself, find the strength to try
To be your own family,  friend, and work mate with no help from outside.


True self-sufficiency is needing yourself alone
But interacting with others regardless
To ease the heavy loads of life.


Remember that life is important in the now
But never in the later or a larger scale.
You are what you make of the present
Despite your past and to shape your future.


There is no purpose to life besides what you give it
There is no way to waste time, you're young as **** until you die.


Rather than worry what others might think of what you do
Worry instead what you will think of yourself
When you have done everything or nothing at all.


This is not a road to sprint or run upon
This is not a marathon or an endurance race
This is simply meandering in the way you choose
You set your own duration and pace.


When you can do nothing at all and the world lies on your shoulders
It is all you will ever be required to do.
Jan 2017 · 311
Q Jan 2017
You don't love me, do you?
I wonder constantly. I know it.
Your love is immature and selfish.
I remember thinking love would be bliss.

You wouldn't mourn me, would you?
I watch as you do nothing as I die of stress.
Do my eyes look angry, accusing?
You don't help because you want to do less.

I'd be far too inconvenient, wouldn't I?
You watch me drown in my efforts.
I fully expect you not to reach out a hand.
I wonder if I could possibly think of you worse.

You wouldn't spit on me if I was burning.

I hate you when you are smiling, lately.
I'm having premature heart attack symptoms
Anxiety, stress, and PTSD are killing me
I'll rip the smile off your face and the air from your lungs.

I don't care that you're frustrated, lately.
Or did you think empty platitudes would calm me?
Tell me everything you plan to do
And will I believe you? Probably not, we'll see.

I'm tired of feeling like a glory hole, lately.
I'll pay for your comfort and deal with your lust
Nice to meet you, I contain a brain, wow!
And I'll use that brain to leave you if I must.

It's disconcerting to me that you make promises you break so easily.

Do you read my poetry anymore? I doubt it.
I'll wait to post this just in case.
Just how you gave me no warning that you don't care for me.
I'll give you none when we part ways.
So this was written awhile ago
And I feel guilty for even putting it to words
But whatever
I hate not posting so here it is
Jan 2017 · 373
Q Jan 2017
I never quite understood the worth of tact
Say the words that you mean and don't take them back.
I spoke my mind when I saw it fit to be told
And I may not have been rude but I was always bold.

But here I am biting the tip of my tongue off
Wondering, if I speak, will your laughter stop?
I regret my words and I regret my silence equally
I wonder if you've had enough, are your sick of me?

I never considered that I maybe go too far
I teased too much, laughed a little too hard.
I remember how happy you used to be
I see how that's changed in my company.

I'd like to apologize for being too serious
It's not odd to me, I've always been a mess.
I am sorry for forcing you to be part of a team
I never intended to hurt you despite how it may seem.

I am a nuisance, forgive me this, I tried to hide it
I am shrill and annoying, more than you should put up with.
I am a child masquerading as an adult; I know I'm failing
I am disloyal and filthy- ****, really- I've thought of bailing.

I'm sorry. I hate this. I hate me. I'm not quite sure what I'm living for. I miss being sad for reasons I could understand and fix. I miss October of 2014. If I could go back, I'd have more courage. I'm a **** for thinking that. I'm sorry you met me, I will ******* up. I'm sorry. I'm honestly the worst. So conceited and self interested and superficial and petty and spiteful and ******. I hope you don't hate me in the end. I hope you. I don't know. I hope.
Some things I felt that I didn't want to post at the time
Jan 2017 · 471
Q Jan 2017
I feel my heart buckling under pressure I beg it to bear
I screamed quietly last night and my brain snapped in half
How strong, how prideful, how immortal I was
How conceited, how terribly much I thought of myself in the past.

Allow me to state that I am weak. Allow me to say that I am done.
When night falls I tremble with fear of something on the horizon
I feel my own body rip itself to shreds in some effort to save me
I truly wish I had savored my irresponsibility now that it's hard won.

Home. Only a year ago I cursed it. How conceited, how idiotic.
Your children will curse you to hell and regret when youth passes.
The mind I prided myself on having has deteriorated, I cannot think.
The sentences meld into unintelligible paragraphs of thoughts as slow as molasses.

I would sleep for an eternity if given the chance but my sweet, foolish, pride...
I would find peace and revel in it if not for the guilt of the method.
I futilely push away thoughts that constrict and wrap around me.
I must be stronger, do more, cannot bear to forgive myself should I do as I please.

Others have done what I am choosing to do and succeeded; my failure won't be justified
I must stand tall until my back breaks, I must smile until my lips quake
I must try harder until my body bleeds, I must give more until there's nothing left of me.
And if I fail, at least I know I jumped, even if I was far too late.

My dreams no longer consist of impossibilities that I will drag into being.
When I sleep, I am plagued by the sight of my own death in a multitude of ways.
When I wake, I miss the simplicity of the horror of the same dreams I ran from.
All the thoughts I used to have now only come after careful contemplation over many days.

I am unsure of who I am. I feel, sometimes, that I am merely watching a play.
That I am just a spectator to a caricature of myself, crudely pretending to be me.
And I would believe in that wholeheartedly if I was unaware of life's inane ways.

If things truly do get better, I wonder if they will do so in time to save me.

How conceited, how foolish, how narcissistic, how self-important, how desperate, how crazed, how terribly, terribly deluded I've grown to be.
How idiotic, this new view of myself and life that I've misnamed maturity.
I apologize to my friends
My lips don't speak, my hands don't write
I see your messages and find no words
I hear your voices but cannot reply.
Jan 2017 · 428
Q Jan 2017
I am far too petty not to block you out (I could easily speak)
I will lick my wounds in peace and learn in silence (I will learn what you never intended to teach)
I will never beg for reciprocation, for the same I am willing to give (for the same I will lose the will to give)

I will hold that want to my chest and fold it into the pile of other thoughts I have certainly never pondered (because I am not ****, am mature, would never begin to think...)

When bitten, I am bitter and sour and sweet like rotting fruit (I am vulnerable and still tending old wounds)
When pushed, I am prideful and insecure and hurt like a child (I am willing to listen if there are words to hear)
When tested, I am cold uncaring and invulnerable like stone (I will grow impossibly detached if only given the chance)

I will (hopefully) never be the last to you because (even if I want to), as an adult, I (am trying to) address my problems rather than doing my best to hurt them (I am furious and I will be more angry when I force myself to be calm).
Jan 2017 · 457
Human Inefficiency
Q Jan 2017
I am lonely, as I so often seem to be
My mind flips over and under endlessly.
I think myself to heights then fling my body down
I scream and complain without my mouth making a sound.

Pridefully -endlessly prideful, as I am- I keep to myself
Because loneliness will never drive me to beg for another's help.
I'd rather stare outwards infinitely, fingers perched and ready to type
And wonder what part of the internet used to bring entertainment to life.

Self-sufficient in the way I always claimed to be, I whisper lonely into my hands
Then run for the door like it's a bug I must release, watching nervously at where it lands.
I dance with myself, giggle and smile, then peel of my face to observe
Because it isn't allowed to show what I can only disclose within written words.

An army of people who will never exist muddle through life inside my head
We speak and we smile and I am pitiful enough that it makes the emptiness less.
And less is livable, less is doable with stiff posture, a smile, and laughs
Less is easier, more simple, more viable to tote away than Too Much's trash.

If I straighten my back, smile with teeth, and laugh boisterously
If I open my arms and wait for company, who will I meet?
If I looked at every person as a new opportunity and not a danger to me
I wonder if I'd make enough friends to calm this feeling for a century?

Questions contain a vulnerability that has never once failed to disgust me.
Yet and still, I write them down because questions are the door to possibility.
And somehow, whether answered or unanswered these questions may be
I will walk away from the result into a crowd of people I will not greet.

I will be lonely.
Dec 2016 · 598
Q Dec 2016
I don't trust you with it
I want to rip the infested pieces of you away from it
Scourge you out from every nook and cranny
Rip the oldest remnant of you from the deepest crag in it
And place you in a thick glass jar

I want to observe you from every angle and know you inside out
And only then will I know if I'd prefer to wrap you up
Or tear you down
But whichever I chose I would never, never let you out

I would keep you from it but know you both so well
Not even your mother could boast to know more
I would rend you from each other and stitch you back together
And bind you both to me that way my mind screams at me to do


First I must reach out and you must grasp my hand
I would love to hear all about you
If you'd open up and let me see who you are
I will accept every filthy and clean part of you
All I require is your every thought
Every breath
Every heartbeat
I ask so little of you
You ask so much of me

You ask me to be a friend in the sense
That you are not entirely unequivocally mine
I refuse
You ask me to be a confidant as though I am not aware of who needs to hear the words you will say
I refuse
You ask me to believe you because you are honest
As though I don't know who you were and are
I refuse
You ask me to care to listen to hear you and I can do all that and more but you have done nothing for me

Slit your throat for me.
Show me you truly need only me to care
Reach down into your chest and present your heart to me
Open your skull and give me your brain
Prove that you trust me enough to check its every secret
Empty out your arteries for me. Show me you trust I'll put you back together
Give me your organs and know that I'll hold you to life

I will accept then
I will listen then
I will care then
You've no clue the extent to which I love those who give me all of them
I will love until heaven and hell and earth and the universe itself wither away
If I have all of you
You will have me.
This started out restrained and ended up in the too far jar. Whoops.
Dec 2016 · 323
What This Will Do To Us
Q Dec 2016
And I intensely feel that I cannot keep you happy
Nor entertained, nor inquisitive, nor enthralled
I truly believe my personality will end us
But these things reside in my head behind the tallest of walls.

I worry you will leave me when you grow bored of this
Perhaps that speaks more on my perception of you
Perhaps that speaks more on who I am that who you are
Perhaps that speaks more on understanding there's something amiss.

I don't know where I want to go with you
Partially because I want to go everywhere with you and fully intend to
Partially because I see no paths to anywhere
Aside from dead dark roads that no one goes down anymore

I wonder if you'll hate me in the future
I dislike this and being vulnerable because that thought leaves me shaken
I wonder if I'll find that I really am too much for even the one I was just right for
I wonder if I'll end up wishing you well, alone.

I hate these thoughts that I can't make rhyme
That I wrench from the recesses of my mind
That I wrestle onto paper and ruthlessly bare
That I try to convince myself aren't actually there
I hate them.
Nov 2016 · 340
Q Nov 2016
I implore you.

I will pick you apart into pieces so small they run past my fingers like spider silk but I will not make you speak.

I implore you.

I have stories and tales and thoughts and wonder balanced precariously on the tip of my tongue and if you were to merely speak...

I implore you.

I reach out with hands slathered in the most adhesive of glues and pray you won't notice how I bind myself to you but I hesitate because you will not speak.

I implore you.

I implore you.

Nov 2016 · 593
Q Nov 2016
"Smile," she says. She knows me well.
I pick up the heavy corners of my mouth and,
Hammer and nails in hand, I attach them high on my cheeks.
She nods and smiles and takes my hand.

"You are happy?" she asks but there was no question.
I nod anyway, despite the fact that she knows, she knows me well.
I believe it because she said it and I won't question it and that's good.
Or perhaps it's bad, I still can't tell.

"Look at her," she murmurs and I've never heard that much scorn;
Her face twists into a disgusted caricature more bitter than bile.
She pats my hand absentmindedly and I do not copy her expression
But instead take her gentle reminder to smile.

"Not them. Not that," she tells me so surely and so I look away
She knows me so well, knows what I want and need
So well that I don't need to know myself. So well that I can't begin to.
She sees my doubt, reaches into the soil, and snatches up the seeds.

"Careful, be careful!" she implores me and I remember to be afraid.
She cares for me more than most, more than myself,
If anything were to happen to me, she'd be lost, she'd waste away.
I make sure to panic and underestimate my health.

"Don't speak." she says quickly, before I can make a request;
She wraps me up  in blankets of misplaced pride.
I bite my tongue and practice the art of restraint so as not to shame her.
When I feel the want, I avert my eyes.

"Did you forget?" she whispers and I am shaken and unsure.
I search my memories but I cannot recall whatever I'd forgotten.
She giggles but she is not happy and I scold myself harshly with a smile.
She does not stop me so I continue without end.

"Come back. Stay." she bids me and I truly want to;
She is everything I have ever known and she knows me so well.
There will be days where I will return to the warm circle of her arms.
Whether that's good or bad, I still can't tell.
Nov 2016 · 488
Q Nov 2016
I am dying.
As most are, I am unprepared.
I feel death tingle down my arms
And rob my struggling lungs of air.

I feel it settle over my mind like a haze
Of drowsy, unfocused wooziness.
I am terrified of it, I am scared
I can feel the cold grasp of death.


She hands me a bottle that clicks with magic
She tells me it's not much and I believe that.
She hands me a bottle after she checks me over.
I take the bottle and remove myself from where I sat.


I remind myself that I am not dying.
I remind myself that I can breath, am breathing.
I remind myself that I am not tingling.
I lie to myself factually: I am not dying.


I don't believe her or myself
If I were to believe, would that make me crazy?
If I weren't to believe, would that make me crazy?
If I am cleared headed yet somehow feel hazy?

**** this lazy rhyme in off kilter four four time:
Am I crazy if I feel my lungs fight for air though I have no problem breathing?
What if I feel my body shutting down when I am more than healthy?
Am I crazy if I know it's the end but can't explain or even postulate why?
Am I crazy if I write so someone knows what happened when I die (whilst thinking I am alive I wont die but I am dying which is just the panic speaking but if it's not then I'll be gone  by tomorrow which wont happen. maybe.)?
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