If life were a board game,
What a game to so entice
Is there any secret shortcut?
Perhaps I may just roll the dice

I don’t really know what to say

I started off writing a poem today
I started off writing a poem today that turned into a suicide note.. poem
A beautiful one
In fact, I didn’t even realize it was a goodbye until I typed the last line
And when I finished I sat up
And wondered what was next
I wasn’t stressed
I wasn’t angry
I just was

I used to write about mountains
I used to write couplets on clocks and school
And I guess there's just so much that's happened
You could say I was fantasy's fool

I used to write in a notebook
And I used to write stories of others
Lines with such positive outlook
Poems of love and promise and color

And now I just write about depression
Each line typed out on a black and white screen
I'd say writing is still an obsession
A personal way of being heard and seen

And maybe one day
The lines will say
I'm happy again
I've found a way
But until that time
I'll use rhythm and rhyme
To express my stress
And to give subtle signs

I am angry at you for not trying harder for me
I am angry at you for making me think I am not worth your time

None of us know each other
None of us want to even try
Or maybe it's just me
And maybe my standards
Are too high

They wouldn't understand
All these strangers down the halls
I sit alone on my bed
And hear giggles through
The walls

And no matter how hard I try
It always comes to this odd end
I have to constantly remind myself
A therapist is not
A friend

I slip just below the surface
Like a thin blanket separating
The unconscious from not
But I never quite make it
To either side

We laid in bed giggling to one direction
My phone's speaker wasn't very loud
A moment of silence, awkward silence
No. Anticipation. On your end.
You wrapped your arm around my waist
I giggled, nervous.
You stared at me. You bit your lip.
I made a comment about the song
You paid no attention.
You rolled on top of me. Straddling me.
I laughed again. My heart pounded.
hahaha stop
You leaned forward, mouth open
I panicked. Hands up to my face.
Your lips met my shield.
You grabbed my wrists and held them down
I turned my face towards the side
You put your lips to my cheek and neck
And you breathed slowly
Get off of me.
I don't know how many times you kissed my cheek
I don't know how many times you kissed my neck
But I remember your grip
Hard. Determined. Sweaty.
You sat up and I gave an awkward laugh
No no no hahaha
You slid your hand between my legs
Ran your fingers up
No stop, I jolted
You rolled off. You pulled me on top of you
I went to roll off.
You held me there.
So I laid there. On top of you.
Staring at the purple wall.
Listening to a song.
But not really.

I had a deep conversation today
I had a deep conversation today in a hot tub
The steam muffled my voice a bit
But my voice still bounced off the wooden walls
My voice cracked and choked but not because of the chlorine mist
My eyes began too fill with tears hotter than the water I sat floating in
I asked out loud I’m not crazy right?
No my voice quivered in response
I was glad there was no one else in the room to hear it too.
At least I’m a good listener

I’m so sick
In the head
I’m so very sick
****

When will I be able to stop fearing that the people who “love” me will **** me

You’re left with just your dreams now kid

Sweating, breathing, silent screaming
Shaking, crosses, mixed love making
Kisses, crying, forced good-bying
Late night terror, morning dream
Guardian angel whispers in my ear
I'm screaming so loud, no one can hear
One more prayer, one more look
Look at my own heart I've took
I've thrown it into jail you see,
To save me from questioning eternity

The temperature hastily drops
Wind blowing, rain streaming
I woke up late this morning
The sky's been plastered

I walk meagerly to class
This day will be the shortest.

How could I ever forget
This was the moment my life was set
The day that I lost you
As clear as the day we met
How could I ever forget

A 60,000 dollar suicide

I've chewed all the skin off my finger tips
My finger nails are stubs
The inside of my cheeks are ******
Hmm what the hell is next

I just feel really ******* stupid

When you come down from the manic, La La Land, I-can-do-it, future bright, endless possibilities cloud that seemed to ascend straight to God Himself
The fall is that much further

I bled a rainbow
But the colors mixed
And now it's just black

I bled a rainbow
But the colors aren't "right"
So I cut a little deeper
Until I hit the heart of the issue
Only to find the root of it all
Is
     My
             **Heart.

Sitting down,
knees to chest
**** naked
Hot water
A sad song
Pocket knife
No surprise
*She's a ***** afterall

The way the sun hits you
Are you satisfied?

No I scream
My heart (a thousand lions) leaps and roars in my chest
No means no, ya get it?
But it doesn't mean no. I'm lying
I'm a liar, am I not?
God you're so good at that
Aren't you. (yes)
This blood, it means nothing
A spool of DNA knitted into
Some intricate design
Designed to what...?
Nothing. I can't come up with anything

A beautiful quilt that someone patched up
But the patches aren't from your home
The pieces of cloth were never yours
Were they? (No)

Like the way a fine dust settles over still water
The currents in the mind have ceased their rapid churn
Electrical though they were, the shock won't hurt you
But it doesn't matter

They pave quite a promising road
It's too bad you've got no guts
And by guts I mean legs

*You stopped running a long time ago

Why do I still write these jumbled scrappy poems?
Who am I even writing for anymore.
A few words on a screen passing by in one swift scroll
A freshman in high school's brand new outlet
A freshman in college's over dramatic cry for help
That she probably doesn't even need

He whispers to me softly
Darling I can make it stop
Let me touch you. Let me feel you
And he wraps his empty arms
Around my body, squeezes tight
He kisses my neck
And leaves freezer burns
He presses his body into mine
For an empty man, he sure is heavy

But I didn't even reach for it
There are papers to write
Cats to pet
More ******* **** to do

Street lights, pavement and the air is so cold
I stand in grass staring up
My childhood park, how I've gotten so old
I think I'm just down on my luck

The night comes much quicker these days
And so do these fleeting thoughts
Wool gloves and my eyes are glazed
It's always a shot in the dark

The liquor, the drugs, all my fantasies
Well, even they aren't enough anymore
And though I've never been much for reality
I find my dreams have become such a bore

What will find you on such a night
And whisk you away in a flicker
Is it God, is you, is it she, is it I?
Whoever it is must be quicker.

I am rediscovering who I am

I'm truly afraid
I'll never feel at home anywhere

It's over.. isn't it?

I could educate myself on every single biochemical molecular anatomical physiological cause for such a pain
But I would still never understand why my heart does what it does

Mitts for hands
And I there, enveloped
Helpless and cradled
You sheltered me

Hands holding mine
You, afraid of squeezing
My tiny fingers too tightly,
Led me

Hand eye coordination.
You proved the concept
By making sure your hand
Found my mother's eye, hard.

Hand on my thigh
And every nerve in my body
Fired rapidly
Do not touch me

Guns for hands
You held it in your hand,
Still smoking,
"Wish it was me"

Hands in wrong places
Tell me one thing?
Was she worth it.

Your hands are still as big
And still as forceful

She stares at her plate and decides not to eat
It's about having control she reminds herself
But limiting nourishment is not control

She stares in the mirror and represses emotion
It's about having control she says
But limiting feelings is not control

She withered away to almost nothingness
Hoping the wind would whisk her up
In a cold, empty embrace

She's drunk
She stopped answering
And he's gone to bed
And I
Well
I'll just end up dead.

A musky cafe with strong coffee, graffiti posters, and lo-fi jazz

A balcony. Staring up at the snow machines on the slopes, taming the mountain as she sleeps.

A sidewalk. Brick buildings decorated with fire escapes and the steam from the subway tunnel.

She goes from skipping down the streets,
Smile as big as her unreasonable new dreams
To running her cold fingers along the edge,
Thick extension cord
Adorns her neck like a string of pearls

They called me a miracle
And I lost my mind
I am no miracle
And I never was

I'll give up being able to control my thoughts
I never like them anyways

Remind me again of how hard it's going to be
To never know love again

I can't help but stare at her arms
And she knows I do
What's your story?
And I think I'll take her up
On the offer

I looked up the number, it's saved on my phone
And I let the time pass all away
Then when I muster my strength up to call
They have already closed for the day

I'm the kind of person...
Who scratches their crotch in public
I reach up and dig a ****** out whenever
If I gotta pick my nose, ****** I pick it
I pick up the clump of hair in the shower with my bare hands
If the food is good, I inhale it
I eat with intent, with no regard for being tidy
I belch in public and think it's funny
Sometimes I forget to wash my hands after I ****
My shoes smell real bad
I haven't washed my sheets since I started college
I shower every three to four days
I'm the kind of person who talks to myself
I laugh at my own jokes
One day I'm wearing a petite feminine dress
And the next I'm wearing a men's button up with baggy cargo pants
My aesthetic switches from ***** hippy, emo punk, to vintage princess
My mood changes from suicidal numb girl
To thinking I can fix the entire planet in a day
I'm the kind of person who neglects to tell people when something they are doing is bothering me
I am a people pleaser
I space out and stare at nothingness
Sometimes I won't shut up
While other times I won't talk for the whole day
I want to try every single type of ethic food in existence
My music taste varies as much as my clothing style does
I wish I could be a doctor, farmer, astronaut, fire fighter, photographer, and homeless at the same time
Nothing bothers me more than feeling unintelligent
I bite my nails in front of people when I'm uncomfortable
I *** in swimming pools
I don't like the idea of traditional dates
I want to be able to talk about poops and farts on the first date
I become quiet when I'm really angry and I never address the real issue
I am all of these things and more
And for the most part, I like it
I like it in all of its *****, gross, ****** up, complicated, diverseness.
Today is a good day.

There isn't a day that goes by when the voice doesn't tell me to **** myself

But I chose whether to listen.
I try to not pay it any attention.