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Aug 2020 · 613
White Tea and Sage
Loser Aug 2020
Your fingers are caught,
entangled in my ribs,
my heart is in your palm,
and our time is running thin.

If this is what it feels like,
to fall out of love,
then I take back every kiss,
I take back every touch.
Apr 2020 · 165
Hiding place
Loser Apr 2020
so she lies.
spins the truth, spins it faster than her head.
collapses to the floor, and wishes she was dead.
So she hides.
feels the tears as the makeup stains her face.
i will no longer be your hiding place.
Apr 2019 · 785
Dear Ava (3)
Loser Apr 2019
So here goes one last pathetic attempt,
One more cry for help.
As I watch you slip away,
from my life completely,
And find comfort in someone else.
I see you in my writings, but never in my arms,
And I miss the feeling I would get when I made you smile.
I haven't felt it in a while.

And I know you'll never read this.
And I'm telling myself that it's okay.
And I'm saying that I write for myself.
But all of my poems are about you.

So here goes one last "note to self".
one more "I swear I'm fine".
As I watch you pictures slowly grow old
and regress into memories,
I hear your voice in my dreams, but never in my presence
And I miss the taste of your name on my lips when you ask who I love.
Even after the distance, the taste is still the same.

And I know you'll never read this.
And I'm telling myself that's okay.
And I'm saying that I write to help myself.
But my words are soaked in your name.

So here goes my goodbye,
My final thoughts for you,
I promise that I'm done writing,
I wish I could promise that I'm done missing you.

this Isn't about O, K, or, B. don't make a big deal about this.
Apr 2019 · 356
tree hugging shit
Loser Apr 2019
The view from the top wasn't as pretty as I had hoped.
I thought this as my wishful eyes took in the industry and machinery.
Glancing at smoke stacks and warehouses and roads that led from labor to profit.

It seems we've lost what matters most.
And It seems that we don't care.
I used to see this town as acres of green.
But time has warped the view into greed and gasoline.

My time here is slipping,
in roughly two years I'll be long gone.
At the rate that were going,
I wont want to come back.

But none of this matters as I walk these crowded halls.
None of this matters as I cheat on tests.
I just live for a tomorrow.
Never for a today.

A tomorrow with one less field,
A tomorrow with one more factory,
A tomorrow with a darker sky,
A tomorrow slightly worse than yesterday.

I cant control much,
But at least I can promise,
that I will be better tomorrow,
than I am today.

This Is how we save the world.
The view wasn’t that bad with you by my side.
Apr 2019 · 1.1k
Monday through Friday
Loser Apr 2019
I’m afraid to leave my bed this morning.
I don’t want to go to war.
The thought of these stranger filled hallways makes my stomach ache in fear.
And the strangers I know most give such caring glances, but I can’t help thinking that they loathe my presence.

I don’t like to lie.
But smiling does get me through the day.
school scares me
Apr 2019 · 668
Loser Apr 2019
You have officially confirmed it.
I am a monster.
Now its not only what I see,
But its what you see too.
Loser Apr 2019
My stomach decides to light itself on fire in your presence as I wait to find comfort in a hug that I needed 10 minutes before.
I think people misunderstand just how introverted I actually am, how the spark of a laugh sends me to a corner in my room and leaves me screaming  for a hand to hold.
You know, a glance from you followed by a gentle touch puts all of my evils to rest. It keeps me safe from myself. You keep me safe from myself.
And it's nights like these, with the thunder and the gloom, that make me wonder if I will ever stop needing your smile to make it through the night.
I could do it before.
So why do I need you now?

Maybe I never knew just how much I needed you.
Apr 2019 · 313
Loser Apr 2019
Did that just happen?
Wait is it still happening?
Oh ****, I better calm down so I can remember this later.

This is lovely.
I couldn't describe it in a way that fit so I wrote my thought process.
Apr 2019 · 434
Uh Oh
Loser Apr 2019
I never know if you want me or not.
Apr 2019 · 300
Loser Apr 2019
You can find me waltzing at an ungodly hour under a blood red sky
with tears upon my pain stricken face and terror in my eyes.

You can tell me to stop, tell me how I’m hurting myself,
and still I will pick at the same seams until I find comfort in pain

You can hear me singing “So don’t let me cave in” in a basement at a party,
and know that if I do, it’s not your fault.

You can talk to me and I will listen.
And here. In this moment. In this interaction, I will smile. I will lie.
I will say that everything is fine.

But what makes you stand out is that you never believe me.
You have no idea how much I need that.
please don’t stop. when I say i’m fine i almost never am. keep asking. keep smiling . it keeps me safe.
Loser Apr 2019
I told you to do what you wanted, to make your own choice, and you left me alone.
So I sat by the lake by myself and sang a song about how you let me cave in.

later, when the sun was fully submerged under the lake water, and my sadness had left me, you came back to me in that same spot,
and gave me a memory of a waltz, a kiss, and a reason to smile. I will truly never forget.

On the walk back, with my bare feet pressed against the concrete and my converse swinging by my side, I thought about how you have such a beautiful way of influencing my emotions like the pendulum they are.

It wouldn’t be living  if there wasn’t some sadness.
you made me sad, then happy. thanks.
Loser Apr 2019
I spend most of my time staring at blank pages and listening to a snare on 2&4. I carve cuts into the tips of my fingers and bite nails off out of boredom. I also wonder how I should be living, because something feels wrong. Should I be this sad?

And every adult I have ever met talks of High school as the best years of their life, so what am I doing wrong? I have friends, I have time, I have people who care. So why do I pace up and down alone in an abandoned theater and feel grim under Friday night lights?

I wrote songs about change last year. I wrote songs about getting better. And every single ******* one of them still applies today. Now I just write to cope, and I'm trying to write better, but it's hard when I'm so jumbled. It’s hard when I get scared.

And Daniel told me to draft my work and avoid contentedness, and I trust him and I tried. I was never content. My time is flashing before me and I have the guts to wear a frown. I'm in the "good ol' days" right now, so why aren't they so good?
This sat in  my notes forever. I re-wrote it a bunch too. I hope you like it.
Loser Apr 2019
The sun was out.
The grass was green.
there was a sprinkle of rain.
And a sky full of blue.

You wore a calming yellow.
and a smile that showed in your eyes.
and when I wasn't thinking of your freckles,
I was thinking of how nice these little moments are.
Apr 2019 · 799
This one is for my friends.
Loser Apr 2019
Dear God,

I know that we don't talk that much.
or at all.
I also know that I kinda don't believe in you.
I just wanted to say that I'm happy where I am.
I know my other writings sorta contradict that statement, but I struggle with negativity, and my poems almost always punctuate pain over pleasure.
It's taken time. I'd be the first to know,
But I'm content with my sadness now.
I'm happy with the little worries I get when she looks upset.
I'm happy with the pessimism that spills from my pen too.
At least it creates.
And I'm not bullshitting you.
And no fingers crossed, because I know how you feel about crosses.
This isn't sarcasm or mockery.
I pinky promise.

I love my friends.

I say that they are toxic.
and they are.
But who says that pain and love cant coincide?
I think that they work quite well together.
And I'm not a *******.
But love wouldn't be love if there wasn't pain,
and this wouldn't be a poem by me if there wasn't any negativity.
So thank you for the spot I'm in
and thank you for the friends I have.
I love them all very much.
I love my friends very much.

                 Your Desperate Friend
I love my friends
Loser Apr 2019
I fear you miss the old me.
The two years ago me.
The funny me.

I told you I wouldn't talk of this, and for that I'm sorry. This just happens to pollute my mind just enough to write about it.
You would be the first to know that I write with a pessimistic pen, and that its hard to digest my sadness. You would also be the first to know that I didn't always carry so much weight, that I used to make people laugh.
That I used to make you laugh.
I'm sure you still like the new, but I feel as though you long for the old.
This write is jumbled. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me for it.
I'm really sorry...
Apr 2019 · 802
I'm a monster.
Loser Apr 2019
I find eyes to be the most beautiful when soaked in tears,
maybe that's why I find some joy in hurting others.
the only thing more messed up about this write is the fact that it's true.
Loser Apr 2019
I don't know.

Its not like I want to be.
When I sit in abandoned theaters full of friends it seems to come so easily.
These after school social sessions aren't helping. They are distressing.
And this group of memories is nothing more than a time bomb to me.
Two years from now i'll at least have a reason to feel lonely.
i can’t wait for this time bomb to go off and set me free from fake smiles and teenage tourtue.
Apr 2019 · 352
I'm scared of thunder
Loser Apr 2019
It's been a while.
It's my fault we haven't talked.
I got new CD's.
I got new friends.
I'm not too sure if any of them helped.
But I got happier too.
I still wear black, but it's paired with a smile.
I hope you found happiness too...
I still have downs.
I still miss you.
I have a **** ton to tell you.
Did you know I play guitar now?
Did you know I have a tattoo?
I don't know when I will see you again.
If I do, I don't know if I will say hello.
But know that I miss you.
know that you're not forgotten.
i'm sure that you will never read this. i guess that's okay
Mar 2019 · 781
Loser Mar 2019
I don’t like the beach. And I don’t like sand in my sheets or salt in my water.
I don’t like crowded places full of half naked strangers or burnt skin peeling off of my neck. I’ve felt this way for quite some time, but my grandma begged to differ.

She had sea shells decorating hallways, and she had paintings in every room. Next to pictures of me and my cousins and in frames on guest bed night stands. She had closets jam packed with beach towels and drawers of polka dot swim suits. And she had a smile on her face when me and my cousins would reach the shore and finally get the guts to jump in.
I don’t like the beach, and If you knew, that would make you sad, but I swear to god that this time I enjoyed the beach in a different way.


The sun was just rising, and the wind was cool and calm, and the only people beside me were the ones I truly loved. We got to the shore in silence and mom wrote "Lynda" in the sand. Then She took out the box that was painted lightly with seagulls and blue waves. And from the box she put her ashes across her sand-written name, and we watched in silence and acceptance as the waves took her away.
I’ve neglected this burden for quite some time now, but a dear friend of mine is going through something that has reminded me to write of this.
Loser Mar 2019
Is poetry not enough? Do my songs still not help? The ghosts that I've conjured scream no. Writing always made me miss you more clearly; but it never made me stop missing you.

And I think I’ve managed to **** up every good thing that has happened to me. My vocabulary is becoming strictly “I’m sorry” And I am. But I’m sorry doesn’t fix everything. And sorry didn’t fix us.

I always say that I write to confront my fears, but I’m starting to think that I’m just writing to myself. And poem after poem I only become more aware that the almost inevitable self destruction is my biggest risk.

I’ll pound knuckles into walls, I’ll etch pencil into paper, and I’ll stay in the same spot for what feels like forever. I’ll conjure more ghosts. I’ll scream “I’m sorry” and in the end I will be the only one to blame.

But In the end I’ll still blame you.
Loser Mar 2019
“You are failing math, but you still take the time to play guitar.
And because of this you can’t calculate the probability of how impossible it is for you to make it.
play the lottery, your chances won’t change.”

I hate how you are right.
Mar 2019 · 966
Loser Mar 2019
Things wont be the same after this.
I know that they weren't for me.

It takes time for these things to heal,
and it leaves a nasty scar.

But it's a scar you wear with your family,
It's a scar that keeps you strong.

Know that the sadness is okay,
know that I am never far.
This one is for you. I hope you are doing okay... I really, really hope that you are holding on.
Mar 2019 · 317
The Easy Lie
Loser Mar 2019
They always ask.
You always ask.
I know that you're there.
I know that you will always be there.
It's just that sometimes It's easier to say that I'm fine,
rather than telling you the truth.
How I feel as though my friends are strangers,
how all the songs I write don't make things better,
how you are in my reach yet I can't grasp you,
how I'm really not fine.
I wrote this forever ago. Finally got the guts to post it
Mar 2019 · 290
Central Park
Loser Mar 2019
I haven't written in a while.
I think it's because I've been happy.
I guess that once the fear is tamed,
and the insecurities shrink down,
I'ts a lot easier to flash an honest smile.

I owe most of it to you.
But I think I've been slowly getting better.
Negativity used to haunt my mind with no end in sight,
Turning subtleties into monstrosities and leaving me awake at night.
But that was before I started looking up. Before I found you.
Cheesy. as. ****.
Mar 2019 · 395
Loser Mar 2019
Is it that I ran away,
Or did you not run after me?
Mar 2019 · 380
Loser Mar 2019
Let me ask you my dear,
do you mind if we feel lonely together?
Mar 2019 · 316
March 15th
Loser Mar 2019
I cant keep my hands from shaking when I write about you.
I get nervous, and I stutter when I speak to you.
I'm always scared that we're drifting miles apart,
and what ***** me up most is knowing that neither of us want the distance.
I think I miss you more clearly when I write about you.
I keep listening to the songs that you gave me too.
you look so cute in your smile.
I know that sounded weird.
I'm sorry.
The truth is I get a very honest tug at the corners of my lips when I see you.
I know that what I'm about to say will sound sad and pathetic,
but I practically live for the hug you give me at the end of the day.
I'm sorry.
You'll probably never read this anyway.
I just really hope that tonight goes well.
I found this in my note book a couple days ago and it was dated 3/15.
Loser Mar 2019
Oh, you're still sad? We all are too.
And We fail to see that we still have each other.
Our ship is sinking from the holes we carved into it.
But keep your chin up, we all might drown a little slower.
Last line is from the wonderyears
Loser Mar 2019
I wear make up to school,
back off, I'm not scared.
I'm not gay either,
but I might kiss a boy.
I hate the scars on my hands,
I love how I got them.
Come here,
never mind,
I don't want to tell you that I hate you today,
I might love you tomorrow.
Up the tempo,
I want to go fast.
play me a lullaby, pretty please.
I want to sleep and dream of you,
I wish I had the guts to hold your hand.
I'm getting sappy, but I don't think that's bad.
I wear black on black on black,
but I might wear a smile.
I want to write like Allen,
I want to write like my friends.
My friends like it when I wear make up.
I like to be liked by my friends.
I was ease dropping on a debate and I watched my brain get blown out of my head by boredom and anger. I guess this is the result.
Loser Mar 2019
All of my friends describe their lives with color,
creating vivid displays of emotion and art,
and if I were to pour my soul into one of these displays,
and brush a canvas with my words,

I guess I would start somewhere with the negative.

A midnight blue finds itself on my brush when an emptiness is present,
and a touch of this hue mixed with a granite gray soon becomes the loneliness, almost always paired with the melancholy.
My brush shifts upwards towards violet and juniper green, and I find myself becoming more content with being alone.

Then I paint the anger,
The crimson red and fire orange penetrate the mellow colors of depression and point fingers at others.
With each brush stroke I torch another bridge, leaving my friends in ashes and my pride untouched.
Black streaks of hatred stain my canvas and my love while I try my best to calm down.
And once the rage dries up and settles, and we get past my mindless mistakes, I move on to the positive side of my art.

Light greens and yellows dance upon the blank white canvas while I Paint Summer nights and pastel skylines.
Shades of sapphire pass by when Laughing with all of my friends and adoring her perfect freckled face.
These colorful drugs course through my thoughts, and leave me with a love for life and a honest smile.

I wear these hues at different times, and drench myself in the life they give,
painting canvases and promises for others, and living in a world of my own colors.
Accenting pain, sorrow, and sadness. Punctuating love, joy, and living .

                                                 My words.
                                                 My canvas.
                                                 My beloved.
                                                 My life.
I tried to use color to express emotion. please give all feedback. I'm quite new to all this. Thanks!
Loser Mar 2019
I'm sick of these ******* enigmas.
Speaking in tongues and whispers and acting like I'm the nothing.
So I sit. And I stare. And walls never felt so comforting.
And if you focus, really concentrate, your vision closes in, and you can almost turn off the laughs. Until someone shatters the focus with an "are you okay?"

"Am I okay?...Of course I'm ******* okay..."

And it's true.
It took time, but once I got past the fact that all of my friends wear masks around me I decided to wear one too.
Mar 2019 · 265
Loser Mar 2019
Turning illness into a weapon never got me far.
Turning illness into art only glorified scars.
Turning illness into stories only got others sad.
I think that illness is the best friend that I have ever had.
Loser Mar 2019
Somewhere In the black and freezing ocean of mid winter lies her body,
resting in a permanent slumber and dressed in a gown of soft silk and ivory. Casting hurricanes and arctic rains at the tips of her pale, thin, fingers, making sure that the rage built up from years of pain never ceases to linger.

Years before, she cast herself off of the cliffs of agony and fell into the sea,
and compared to the demons that haunted her in life, in the water she would rather be. She left a note to the burdens she deserted, and it mockingly read, "I leave this hell behind me, with you in my life, I'm better off dead."
please feel free to give feedback and critiques!
Loser Mar 2019
You wore a complex pattern on your face,
one that I hadn’t seen for a while,
and I didn’t think I could fix it this time.

You looked at me and said “I’m fine, and it’s not your fault,”and the fake smile was plastered onto your perfect freckled face.

I think it hurts more when you lie,
I think you lie more when you’re hurt.
Loser Mar 2019
I'm sick of these late night car rides, pacing up and down the same suburban streets while you try to get away from the flames of your home, and hearing these tiresome complaints being echoed from car rides prior, slowly amplifying as the street lights begin to pass us faster and faster.

I'm too used to the feeling of the cold glass pressed against my forehead while I sit quietly in the passengers seat looking past the rain droplets dancing on the window, and growing bored of listening to your troubles, searching for something new on the winding roads I've traveled on for the past sixteen years.

I'm beginning to wonder if the day will come where my foot is on the gas just like yours once was, and I'm fleeing from the ghosts that I have so naively conjured, and my only escape from a nine to five hell is a drive to nowhere, where the working man goes to die.

I don't want to die like them,
And I don't want to run like you.
I'm still working on this so feel free to give feedback.
Loser Mar 2019
Speak to me now, my friends,
I'm trading all of my companions for attention,
dwelling in an abandoned theater's spotlight and short lived rides home.

Laugh at me now, my dear,
I swear to God I wont lash back,
I've found immunity to the sadness that pairs itself with being alone.

Yell at me now, my mentor,
though we both know that I'm not the problem,
you've singed your hands in your fire and now you turn to me for answers.

Hate me, my conscience,
I wanted to be an artist or a saint,
I'm finally understanding that I don't have what it takes.
Feb 2019 · 194
I hope
Loser Feb 2019
I hope you choke on the ashes that you've left behind.
After torching every ******* bridge that you can wish to find.
I hope you drown In the memories that spill from your eyes.
And that you feel your lungs screaming for air seconds before you die.

I hope that when you finally lose control of your little ****** up game,
all the people who called you "friend" will forget your worthless name.
I hope you sit on your throne of manipulation and cry out in agony,
when you realize that the knives you stabbed into our backs are reality.

I hope you feel all of the pain so vividly described in this letter,
but above all of the suffering, I just want you to get better.
Loser Feb 2019
While dirt piled beneath my nails I clawed at your grave all night,
breaking my back until your blackened and dismantling coffin was in sight.

The weeds circling your tomb stone danced without appearing mundane,
as the freezing wind called to you, howling out your name.

I pried open your wooden door that had been etched with two dates,
and I knew that what had happened to you would soon be both our fates.

I thought back to the day when I found out you took your life,
and with hopes of mimicking you in sorrow, I keep a gun to my side.

Slowly I crawled in next to you, with just enough room for two,
and I looked up beyond the trees and saw a sky painted dark blue.

And in this moment at last, I felt completed by your side,
then I shut the door, pulled the trigger, and never said goodbye.
Loser Feb 2019
What will we do when we all fall in love with each other.

When the blind infatuation seeps into our delicate skin and poisons the blood coursing through our innocent veins.

When the "mild" jealousy hides the secret hatreds behind the masks of friendship that we all so desperately wear.

When we rip our sanctuary apart from the inside out because it seemed as though it didn't love us back.

When we lose it all for the possibility of a temporary romance.

What will we do when we all fall in love with each other?
Loser Feb 2019
My blood runs down the warm steel strings.
My fingers ache.
The noise stops.
My pathetic attempt to cope by writing a song about you has failed.
Feb 2019 · 286
A rose from Bella
Loser Feb 2019
You gave me a rose today.
It sits in my room wilting patiently.
Slyly pouring salt in the wound.
And what strikes me most is the symmetry.
how it sits dying so beautifully,
how it stands tall through all the pain,
how it's petals crash onto the floor like my knuckles into my wall,
and how it makes me smile so easily.
A nice gesture,
falling somewhere between a torture and a romance.
Feb 2019 · 258
Loser Feb 2019
I bit the hand that fed me ****
Jan 2019 · 549
Loser Jan 2019
One wall was painted dark blue,
while the other wore a bright yellow,
and the spot known as the corner was now known as me.

Upon the blue wall I wrote: "I don't want to live alone."
Upon the yellow wall I wrote: "I want to be with you."

But as the corner of the room I knew that though the emotions were juxtaposed, the message was still the same.
Jan 2019 · 349
Loser Jan 2019
The sadness came in waves, so I strayed from the ocean,
but keeping my distance made me lonely,
for I had no place on land.

I longed for the currents.
push, pull,
happy, sad.

When I was with the waters, I was joined by a mix of joy and sorrow
yet when I was away, I was joined by no one.
Jan 2019 · 619
Loser Jan 2019
Friends become acquaintances,
and then they just pass by,
so let’s face the new with courage,
and let the old ways die.
Friends  time. cardboard
Loser Dec 2018
I wore my fathers shoes to a funeral today.

It took me sixteen years to get to a point where I could walk in them and truly say that they were a perfect fit.

It took me sixteen years to get to a point where I finally understood the senselessness  of death and the preciousness of life

It took me sixteen years to feel the gravity of death wrapping around my blissful yet ignorant heart, pulling me down to the knowledge of reality.

It took me sixteen years to not just know, but comprehend the fact that my time will pass me.

It took me sixteen years to learn all of these lessons, and now that I have I can start to live a life.
Dec 2018 · 2.9k
light blue delphiniums
Loser Dec 2018
Her name was Lillie.

Her dad gave it to her.

She had sunset hair and dark eyes that she got from her mom.

She used to write songs and sing them to the world.
She used to smile when she sang.

Over time the smile faded, until eventually a slight physical sign of happiness became a rarity.

She had flowers that grew from the scars on her wrists.

She sowed the light blue delphiniums into her open flesh garden using seeds of depression and hopelessness that came from her tears.

Over time, the garden would mend itself,
and leave the scars she tilled into her delicate skin as a reminder of her pain,

yet sprouting from her painful memories were the flowers she had planted from the tears she had shed.

Standing tall as a reminder that good can always come from bad, and that there is beauty in everything.
Still working on it...
Dec 2018 · 1.0k
Our bridge
Loser Dec 2018
Using the wood from the oak tree we met under, we built our bridge.

Bolting pieces together with trust, carefully, and strengthening over time

Creating a once non existent path leading from one spirit to another

Constructed far above a winding river of disloyalty and acrimony

I would meet you in the middle, its weakest point,

and still the bond we built between us would support our insecurities

I was safe with you on our bridge of companionship

I was fearless with you on our bridge of loyalty

We were indestructible on our bridge of unity

So why did I burn it down
Dec 2018 · 248
Fuck you
Loser Dec 2018

Two words I scream at the top of my lungs.
Pulling from the deepest pit of anger and hatred.


Words I know I will regret saying and
Words I will probably hear back.


The easiest way to torch a bridge.
With anger drenched in gasoline, and a lack of self control as a open flame


I don't even know why I'm mad.
Last line was inspired by the wonder years.
Dec 2018 · 405
Waffle house at midnight
Loser Dec 2018
At a table full of acquaintances I tried to speak up. I told them why they had shifted, in my mind, from friends to acquaintances.
But they didn't hear me... or they didn't listen, But in a way, I felt like they knew.
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