We feel what
we write.
We struggle over
what might.
In our head is the battle
that we fight.
Sometimes we just
want to know.
Do I stay or should I go.
In our mind so much thinking.
We stare at this wall
without even blinking.
In life we feel different emotions.
A trusting heart brings
love and devotion.

They say when you go through trauma
It either kills you
Or you forget it.
They don't tell you what to do
when the options blend.
There's no hotline to call
when the memories you've buried
claw their way back up your throat
like the pills that didn't work.
I am a causality of a war I never fought in.

I cut my hair short so I can wash it in the sink,
For the days when my shower turns into a tardis I cannot control,
A time machine with only one date.
I have grown sick of not finding refuge in this time and place.
When I shave my head,
I think of how impossible it is to pull a buzzcut.

I write the date on every piece of paper,
But I don't really live here.
The present is just a hideout from the past,
The future a threat of going back.
I am on the run.
A fugitive of broken memories and stolen hope.

I lock each door in my house
five times
before telling my mom goodnight.
I check underneath my bed,
Move the clothes in my closet
until I'm sure I can see every part of the back wall,
and leave its door open.
I bend my eyes into every corner and hollow spot.
I will not go to sleep.
I will dream myself awake.
I wake up in my bathtub time machine,
Raise my face through the surface of the red water,
My long hair wrapping itself around my throat like promises from a time when I still felt alive.
I will probably scream,
And find myself back in my bed.
My family won't hear a thing.

He gave meaning to the poems I had read over and over again.
Meaning to the songs that had often been stuck in my head.
I finally understood why people loved falling in love.
Why people would rather stay awake than dream.
He changed my view of how love ought to be and reminded me that I was worth so much more than I had ever been able to see.

i want to be with you
but the sun isn't heart-sweet warm and
the way you say i'm sorry hurts even more
than why you are sorry
i want to be with you and draw with
blue chalk on the road
the people are already hating
us because we painted
"if this is our home, we're homeless" with
orange graffiti on a white wall
i want to be with you
looking at the houses that never changes
looking at the young kids acting like adults
you will laugh you will kiss my neck and tell
me that one day i will see myself just as
beautiful as you think i am, now i laugh
i threw away my heart last summer
but it was not until yesterday i cleaned up
the blood on my mother's doorstep
i want to be with you
but my body is a purple place and boys like
you belong to a beautiful refined world where
i wont be able to breathe without crying  
i want to be with you, but i can't lose myself
once again

The misty sprites in speckled shadows
dance among the ferns on the forest floor.
Hemlock and western red cedar giants
tower above the fungus jungle on the rotting leaves.
The sun alters the smell of rain,
and a light wind coaxes the wet from the branches.
I think as quietly as I can
because I am an intruder.

I'm done

Fighting
Trying
Fixing

I'm done

Being a cliche
Not making the cut
Being picked on

But yet here I am, doing all those things
Cliche
Cut
Picked

So I try to do as they say
And do something different

I cry instead of keeping it in
I talk instead of bottling up
I become vivid instead of shutting down

I'm done

Feeling stupid
Feeling useless
Feeling powerless

I'm done

Trapped
Pawn
Kid

I'm ready
Ready to stop taking it
Ready to take control
Ready to get out

So here I am
I'm done
I'm ready
So
I'm gone.

If ever you need
an instant reminder
of your mortality;
cast your eyes
toward the night sky
and gaze upon
the endless stars.