I’m being born again
Born without flaws
Believing in nothing while
Believing in God
I’m being born again
My parents aren’t there
But they’ve been here before too
I’m being born again
God forgive me, for
I’ve done nothing wrong
Except break my heart
And sever my neck
with the shards
I’m being born again
Made of glass
My soul is so see-through
Look closely, you just might see me
in the way You see everything around me.
My blue eyes daunted
My heart is so soft
My hands have been silenced
It’s eaten me up
But God forgive me,
I’m being born again.
Sitting in a coffee shop
Who knows what’s going on?
Who’s swallowing *******
That I could stomach this late in the day?
Will it make me jittery?
Will it help me sleep at night?
please could you tell me
Why we all found ourselves here at this moment?
Who here is the loneliest?
Who here is closest to death?
Who here is going to make love tonight
To the love of their life?
Is there anyone?
Is there anyone here in love and not in coping?
Anyone brilliant without *** smoking?
Anyone grounded with a bad past?
Please, tell me if I can make it through this life alive.
You are the reason I didn’t **** myself yesterday.
You are the thing that make me the most excited, the most scared,
The most alive.
You fill me up completely, feeling my edges where my trauma lays deeply and my stomach is full of regrets.
You play me boy, you play me
Like you play video games
Obsessively and completely
It’s annoying at first
Until I realize that that is how you play all things in your life.
You child wonder,
My grown man sparkling eyed wonder.
I didn’t **** myself yesterday, and you were the reason why.
For now, that is all the reason I need.
The air only listening
As I take this fall to be free.
my heart is still bumping
My mouth can still speak
I’m trying to create value
What value is it that they seek?
Is it me?
Am I it?
Am I what I’m supposed to me
The bringer of monotony
The agonized killer of creativity
how do I rid my skin of this sin
Of forgetting all I want to be?
I drink to forget the drinking buddy I once had.
Today I miss you like I miss
A song I love that I haven’t heard
I replay memories to hold hands with your soul.
I talk to cats with the same tone you do.
I count down days to see you, knowing that
Those numbers don’t mean anything.
A countdown only counts down the planned event, not the things that could unexpectedly happen.
I miss you too much,
Too emotionally attached,
But this is how it is today.
So I will feel everything,
Love everything about you,
And love myself for loving to much.
The day after you,
I danced in the mirror,
Holding my hips together with the knowledge
That I was my own again,
With the feeling I was free.
I put on my guitar and chased the cat
Around the house,
Singing songs about how
If she didn’t stop eating
She would grow too big for the box she slept in
Too big for the house,
She’d be a fat Supercat.
I haven’t sung like that in ages,
Haven’t played pretend for years,
Besides fooling myself into believing you’d loved me.
I guess this is my way of saying I outgrew you.
I draw on myself
Pictures all over
When I get antsy
When my nervous system wants to fight with my self esteem
And I crave
Creating an outlet for the pain.
These past few days of trying to keep space from you have got me covered in ink.
How did it get this far?
How have we found ourselves here?
We are both closer and further than we have ever been.
Am I closer or further to who I am?
I am like a child trying to show you who is boss
But my insides are rotting
Still hoping you’ll call
I know my love for you is in the cellar
But holding up my entire house
Molding and decaying
Supporting and sustaining
But what if I’m a closeted *******
I find myself hurting in ways self imposed
I can’t breathe easy for long without choking myself
I cannot understand how someone drinks for fun
I cannot understand breathing clean air for long
I had to slide my consciousness asleep
Tip it towards unthinking
Running from believing the thoughts:
If I don’t want kids because of the mental illnesses I would give them, why do I believe I am any more worthy of living?
I am falling asleep to my ribs caving in on themselves
My breath short circuiting
A panic attack from the years of surpressed neglect
Dug out of me from therapy paid out of my pocket
I traded this from drinking money
Knowing drinking didn’t make my shadowed memories go away.
Oh, but believe me, I’ve tried.
And you still don’t understand why I never show up for the holidays.
My wings are smoothed out
I am crashing
flying to get to you
bound by the weatherman’s voice
Saying it’ll be smooth sailing
No sign of failing
My heartbeat is failing
Favoring ailing over being without you
Don’t smooth me out
Keep me rough
So you can get a good grip on me
So I don’t lose my grip on reality
Stay with me
I am crashing
Stay with me
It’s smooth sailing to say
we’re just good friends
Unleast until my heart gives out .
You can’t say a word to them, because then there would be consequences. But I am a time bomb, waiting for when this lack of talking on your end blows up on mine.
There is danger in living for others
in your darkest place.
There may come a time that
those people are no longer there,
Their shadows etched to your walls,
like the images of people from atomic bombs,
are the only evidence in your glazed over eyes
that someone was ever worth living for at all.
I know a single human shouldn’t be the reason for living,
But as my list of reasons for dying grows longer, one reason counteracts them the most:
If your beautiful soul is still here and has the audacity to exist in this world, then maybe I can too.
Is it considered assisted ****** if I am the one that gave the
parts of the brain that want to **** themselves to my child?
Would I be condemned if they didn’t stand a chance against the one thing they couldn’t control,
Their own genes?
Wouldn’t it be
Just as much me
If they were the ones
In the battle against their brain?
The person who cares the least
Controls the relationship
If this is true
Than you have controlled me
For a year
I am not in love with you anymore
And I pray to God
That it stays that way.
From the way I slouch over
Lower spine crumpling over
The weight of collapsing shoulder blades
You would think I had a drink
In front of me.
I shudder as a song comes on,
Shudder in the way that
nature gets very still after a gunshot,
as if the lack of movement
Itself was louder than any shake could make.
And as I sit silently, quaking internally,
I can’t help but wonder if this feeling
Is one of craving
Or being hung over?
The thing I dream of most
Is having the times I say
I love you
Outnumber the times
I couldn’t say it but wanted to.
I’ve had the phrase
“Families are forever”
Repeated so often to me
It’s been tattooed on my chest
But every time I look down
To see if it’s still there
The sentiment is still in my skin
But the people have taken a leave of absense.
(If I could go over to your house every day
To ask you if you still love me,
It would be enough,
But no less.
That’s the trouble with the family-less ones.
That’s the trouble with the abandoned ones.)
When I was 18,
I would pray that while I slept
my soul would visit those who were
While they slept too,
So that no one
Would be completely alone at night.
Their first conscious breath would be
Dusted in the feeling that they
They were watched out for by someone.
I did not speak of you today.
I missed you briefly, than not at all.
I did not think of the way
You didn’t love me,
Instead, I thought of all the ways I loved myself.
Creating my life for me, instead of waiting for you to
I was happier than I’ve been in a year.
I plan to write a poem a year from now
Naming all the things I’ve done without you
And all the things I’ve done because of you.
I don’t know what the first one will look like yet,
But I plan the second
To look something like this:
1. Wrote a lot of poetry
2. Wasted a lot of time
I’m drunk on pills
Feeling an attack on the back of
Everything you could never say.
I dream of living in a place
Where I can tell you how much I’ve thought
Where every painting
Is equivalent to how much I write about you
How much I think about you
If you ever found me
Of the end
“We’ve been over this”
We never really spoke of it again
Our breakup hung heavy
It lightened up
But I still wonder
If it haunted your shoulders
The way it haunted mine
Whispering in your ears all the reasons
You could never be happy.
I have prayed more to have these feelings for you
More than I have prayed for anything in my life.
And after all this time,
I still care for you,
I still miss you every day,
I still love you more than all the words I’ve written about you.
While you broke it off last night
With a girl you discovered was crazy
I was shaving my head in my bathroom
Cutting every tie to guys I had,
Using a hand mirror
To get the angles I couldn’t see.
I am relieved that no one will want to date me now.
Would you like to borrow my mirror?
Maybe you could see the way
You are deciding that I am back in your life
But I haven’t agreed to anything yet.
I am listening to Jeff Buckley
In my car
And I cannot cry
Now, at last, I say to myself,
I know what kind of girls
You think are worth your time.
Am I the song you can’t stop listening to
For a week and then get bored of,
Or the album you love most
But refuse to listen to it,
Afraid that if you hear it too often,
It will ruin the magic.
I have committed my life to loving you
But not being with you.
Where are the love songs for this?
Where is the consolation for the
Pit in my stomach that knows
The shape of your eyes like
The shape of my depression.
I have spent a full year loving you,
I have forgotten what it’s like
To not have you be the last thing I think about
Before I fall asleep.
You were more like a dream than anything.
Thank you, sky,
For reminding me today
That there are other shades of blue
Than his eyes.
If all I do
For the rest of my life
Is fill the whole world with as many
Beautiful things as I can
It would be enough.
It would all be enough.
I pretend that I’m not in love with you.
But when I hear you laugh,
I can feel the butterflies nesting,
Even though I told them specifically
That they have gotten their address mixed up.
The butterflies couldn’t care less
Whether I want them there or not.
Get out of my lungs.
Get out of my throat.
My mind swallowed you
and now there is no space for me to live
Get out get out
can't you see I am drowning
in the possibility
that you may never
I am under the ice, unable to get to the surface
that is the fear that
The last time I say your name,
the night will be at its darkest.
I will say it one final time,
and then it will forget to come up again.
My blood will filter through my heart
and every ounce of AB+ will be positive that
it doesn't need you to survive.
My bones will be a little more brittle that day,
but my shoulders will pull themselves up
towards the sky,
uncovering the spine I forgot I had
when I would cave it around whatever you wanted.
My phone will just be a phone again.
My body will not be a punishment.
My hair will not be something to feel guilty of.
My eyes will just be mine.
My hands will hold my love instead of your ego.
My mouth will hold less secrets and more smiles.
My throat will not choke on the poison you gave me.
And I will be free,
unaware of the last time you came up again in my life,
for I have so much more to talk about than
[The poem's words are missing.
The opinions, feelings, and respect I feel
are no longer with me.
They have been abandoned by the vacuum effect,
for I wanted more for you to feel your worth,
then I cared to keep mine.
It is all gone now, and I am left with the empty space
of loathing you.
But it was I who allowed it to go,
It was I who allowed my soul to smoke and die
I kept your spirit warm by
burning mine alive.
I couldn't even say who lit the match.]
My dependency wasn’t entitled to trial
Denial can only beguile
so long as it holds up the final we fold up
And take from our hands evidence that we wrote up
But trust me
You must see
It just means
You drugged me
With your formation of dependent depression
It’s always in session with you in my life
And its coping comes quickly
Evidence of your beckoning
Attachment not lessening
Your silence deafening
Dead and he
Look behind his poison to see the reason
He hadn’t died in his sleep
I slept by him and weeped
I could have died by the drink
But he denied it, thinking
I wasn’t in danger if I was alone,
That the danger’s in strangers.
But the danger’s explained here
As being with him and he
Couldn’t even see
Our death sentences his read
(There are two characters in this particular story:
Him and You.)
He never thought of me as a poet, though I have written more poetry about Him than anyone else before.
I wrote a poem about him, spent hours on it, hummed it on a stage,
I got so close to the mic for comfort
I felt I was supporting myself on His secondhand drunken breath.
I once read it out loud to him, and it got lost in His head,
and I am unsure if He was ever aware of poetry He dismissed.
But You. You considered me a poet almost from the start,
I could see it in the way Your eyes were trying to tell Your mouth the words it needed to adore me, but Your mouth fell blank,
and so chose into kissing instead.
At least, that's how it went in my head.
You were upset with me at how little poetry I had written about You,
and even to this day, though we are apart for three years,
You still read my words.
Why do you still read?
Is it to make up for the words You skipped over in my eyes when You were close enough to read my irises?
If I think about all the ways I’m losing you,
I’ll drive myself insane.
Instead, I’ll think about everything I’m gaining:
My sense of humor back
My real laugh
Feeling like myself again
My self respect
My dreams that do not include you
You may meet someone you believe you’d
I believe you.
You may fall in love with this person
I see it.
You may have such deep insight on who they are as a person, want to always be there to see them for the beautiful soul they are,
Even when they cannot.
But in all this talk of soulmates,
You are your first and last soulmate,
And if anyone,
I mean anyone,
Makes it harder to be your own soulmate,
Than they might have known you before this life,
But they can’t continue living it with you.
The best way to heal
Is to focus all your attention on the problem,
Set the broken bone, cast it up good.
After you have done that,
It is best to leave it alone
And trust that the body knows how to heal on its own.
To give a scab attention usually causes more bleeding.
Trust the process. You don’t have to stare directly at the sun to know it’s there.
The air in between you and him is killing you.
It cannot be from God.*
But God gave me my family
And I have been trying for years to forget that.
The air between me and them
Is the slowest death of all.
It has just finally progressed enough
That when a friend says,
“Look, if you don’t tell me you’re going to be ok, I’m going to have to call somebody,”
Who was he to call?
I was born alone from the beginning, nomadic blood imposed upon me.
When I met you
A part of my soul was returned to me
Through you I breathed a full breath for the
first time in this life.
And I thought, how beautiful it is to breathe.
But now I am on fire
Can you see me burning?
Tonight I begged God to have me drop dead while you were singing
I begged him because my soul is much too heavy now
And without your healthy hands to help me
I’m afraid it’s too much for me to breathe.
I imagine myself
Vanishing from your life
Only become a myth you think about
When your head and heart get so soft.
Maybe if I disappeared,
The rotting taste in both our mouths reassuring ourselves everything is all right
Would morph into a craving for the long gone,
But sweetly remembered.
When those thoughts come of ending it, you have to fight back.
my brain is addicted to sabotage,
conflicted between overdosing on dopamine and
My wrists hurt from the work of self-loathing,
careful girl, your evil soul is showing
my pacing complacency faces the fact
that he's not coming back
I don't know how much he was ever here to begin with.
Hide your evil soul, my child,
complaining only puts the brain at it again,
explain to me again how you were ever thought to be
fight back, my love, fight back.
Who is it that is talking? Who is it that is wanting me alive, that has done everything in the power to keep me here?
There have been days where the sky itself was holding up my shoulders to keep my closer to the sun than my grave.
It seems so much more personal than a relationship
Because if you split up a relationship it is
“We just want different things”
“I’m in love with someone else. It couldn’t be helped.”
But a friendship
The one where they have seen you at your absolute worst
More than anyone else in the world
Where they could make you smile instead of thinking about dying
Where being friends was the best thing ever
Because it wouldn’t have to ever end
How do you break that up
When the only reasons seem like
“I just don’t like you anymore”
“You are so bad for me”
*there is peice of you that exists in me too
That I have yet to find in anyone else in the world
How can I abandon that?
When I am happy and excited for the future
I get sad
Thinking how you should be here too
That everything good in my life holds a blank line for you to fill yourself in
But you choose
Over and over
To remain out of that slot
I want to be happy
But I also want to be happy
With you there too.
It’s a giant gamble
On if things are going to get better
If you have the capability to make them so
Or if it is time to just step out.
Or if it is time to step out for good.
I wish I didn't cry at the inopportune times
Lines that don't connect to the logically minded
But how can I explain to those I love why
I feel I am going to die
If I inconvenience someone
If someone slams a door
If someone isn't speaking to me
I know it isn't reasonable. I know it's not true.
But how do I tell my body that?
How do I tell the part of my past it isn't true
If I don't remember what part it was?
Marriage is failing
And over again
And having someone you love witness it
And watch you fall.
And doing it right back with another person.
*I believed all my life vulnerability was honesty. Now I believe it is being truly seen.
I felt the gasping of your breath
from your back against my chest
as I held you,
spots of tears sprinkling themselves on my arm.
"I don't understand why my brain hates me so much that I need to go through so many steps to not feel alone.
That I need to have somebody's breath against my neck to know that they're alive.
That they're real."
How I wish I could figure out
why it seems my brain wants me dead
for as long as I can remember.