Open your eyes to see beyond the past,
Time, a reel unwound, looping too fast.
Enter future dreams lush with tears,
A kaleidoscope of fears and forgotten years.

The cigarette falls from her shaking fingers,
Ashes trace whispers where memory lingers.
Time, a distraction, but isn’t it all?
Strangers and entourage drift through the hall.

She was once a distraction—
A neon sign, a feverish attraction.
Now she’s a diagnosis,
A manic-depressive prognosis.

Regrets for the war within her rage,
Her soul, a novel with torn-out pages.
And yet, from silence, words flow clear,
Like ghosts dictating stories she can't bear.

Who are the strangers in this tableau?
Her reflection in fragments she’ll never know.
Time’s cruel arrow bends to her despair,
A loop of smoke curling in air.

Open your eyes, the past refrains,
Its endless echoes clatter in chains.
Yet futures gleam with dreams profane—
She writes them in ashes, again and again.

Chocolate colored eyes pierce and divide
Digging through my soul like a chest being discovered
A smile plays across her lips and it's like a puzzle piece clicked
Her words soft and light almost sending me to cloud nine
Laughs shared in late night conversations and the only other here are the stars
She shines brighter than the sun and gives invisible burns when she touches
I wish I could hold her every night and intertwine hands in the daylight
Hearts beating as one and yet so far it makes an impossible feat
The lights of our "sins" are much too great not to give in
Our life is strong and great as one

...

But something is off as time goes on
Whispers almost distant and the life we built almost glitching
As we sit down and watch the TV I cant help but look next to me
The lamp on the table is off and looks strange not like yesterday
My eyes never leave the shade when it locked today
Words said to me are static and a mystery
I realize this is a dream and it hurts as I hear screams
The world flashes and my eyes burn from fright

...


I open my eyes to a white hospital room
My mom in her chair on call while noises fill the air
An IV in my arm makes me wince as I take in the reality
I'm twelve years old again and I feel tears fall down without grace
"Hey baby I'm glad you're awake,"

I wish I could feel the same.

Trauma wasn’t just a word for someone like me
Like vines with thorns, the memories cut me, wrapping me in utter vulnerability
People say I've had a good life and I have it better than the boy who was hit last week
But what about the girl I used to be, hiding with the monsters because humans scared me
The word trauma is what people use when something is uncovered or discovered
But over time it loses meaning, becoming stale like left out bread
Because people who throw the word around think people who hide from the vines are actually fine
When we are running from not only the demons in our minds but the light of reality
Suffocating with bad habits to keep the memories locked and not for a rainy day
But so we can finally get a moment of peace in this ****** up masterpiece-
That we call reality
I wish I could go back to when instead of thorns there was rose buds growing with me
But they were cut and protective lies surrounded the oh so fragile identity
My mind a graveyard of what it could've been if not for unfortunate events following me
The lies are spilled not just because I'm scared but it's hard to open up when all I've done is lock away any truths that could lay me bare
Like a scab I pick at the wound, the feeling unnerving and almost deserving, like a silver shine pressing another line, ending in a numbing relief
Pain distracts from the others that are greater, because how the hell do I breathe with no oxygen
Crimson brings me back, the sting is the oxygen I crave, guilt and shame will take a minute to scream.
Oh I just wanted to be free.

I’ve been trying for years to stop,
but,
it’s like a safety cushion that just ends up hurting you more.
Like I honestly get so mad when people tell me to “just stop.”
But it’s an addiction.
Once you start it’s so hard to stop and even if your years clean of something,
you can still relapse.
That’s the worst part.
I’ve always done it even subconsciously since I was in single digits,
so now it’s just sadly second nature.
It’s hard to stop something that you’ve always done just in different ways.
It’s not like I wanted to start,
I just needed to feel
or I thought I needed to be “punished” for nothing that was my fault.
But I ended up finding a quick fix that’s gonna leave me scared for the rest of my life.
I’ve tried everything to distract myself and make me stop.
Longest I’ve gone was 6 months,
I was 14.
I just moved on from hitting myself to things that cause more damage yk.
It’s the stinging that brings me back to reality and in a moment,
just a moment,
my mind stops running and my brain is calm.
Just a moment of silence that always comes back.
It’s not good but I just can’t stop.
But I think I’ll get better and heal.
Even if it’s not tomorrow or next month.
Eventually I’ll get better and won’t need it anymore. Hopefully.
It’s a hope I wish so desperately to come true.
One day tho, whether it’s in this life or another,
I won’t need it.

The heart
Is not an *****
As many think

The heart is a muscle

Does the fact that mine was crushed far too often
Make it weak
Or make it strong?

Isn't it strange
How we are all living on a random sphere
In the middle of a nothingness
Thats also everythingness
and has trillions of other giant yet tiny spheres too?

i slip
          under the ice

i bang on the surface
                              and yell

no one hears
                   my cries
                                  for help

the air leaves my lungs

                  “why should i try?

                                                  if no one cares”

i slip
                              under the surface

        the breath

                   choked out

                                                of my lungs

falling

          freezing

                      flooding

                                   engulfing

overwhelming

farewell,

o

cruel


world