I have a heart breaking way of thinking about every moment in painful nostalgia, while it's happening

Walked
down 17th
  under the
   white lights
    & against
     tall buildings
      to walnut st
       swallowed
        by the quick
         pace of
          city life,
           i finally
             stopped moving
              for the first
               time in months
                & just sort of...
                  watched
                   & just sort of...
                     felt

                                                               the butterflies
                                                                       swept in
                                                                  to the pace
                                                              of high heels
                                                            and sneakers
                                                          slamming the
                                                      cold side walks
                                          that surrounded me...
                                               i checked the time
                                                              9:01 PM
                                                       the moment
                                                     i fell in love
                                       with where i was
                                   with where i am

I wake up early
Just to pull each day
by the thread
that holds it
Then watch it unravel
To the nagging ding
Of missed phone calls
As they come flooding in
Rarely bothering to check
Who is distributing them
Because I spend my time
Swallowing pain like a pill
**By midnight
it's an overdose
And by morning
It's a self inflicted
****

I am not
a broken heart

Do not
romanticize
my pain

I have no one
to send you after

The source of hurt
lives inside my brain

Yes
I've fallen
apart

But all you'll get
from gathering my
shattered pieces
is cuts on the tips
of your fingers
and sob stories
to take home to
your typewriter

I had a friend
once who said,
"He doesn't love you
he just wants
someone to write
a love song about"

Well isn't that true
for everyone?

If there's no art in my struggle
It's of no use to you

She killed herself every night while she slept
So waking up always felt like a miracle
And she was in love with her misery
With a cigarette in her left hand
And her right on the steering wheel
She cried to the rhythm of the windshield wipers
And drove through the rain without a destination
Snapping pictures through the rearview
She organized them from last to first
She likes recalling memories in reverse
She says it's less painful to watch
when you know that in the end
She makes it home again
*Well as long as you make it home again

For no reason at all,
I began to feel home sick
in my own home

And
so
I
mourned
the
loss
of
something
unknown

Love does not
complicate your breathing
That's lust
Love allows you to finally
breathe just right

I took pictures of you everyday
Because I knew you weren't here to stay

they've got flavored iced coffee
that changes with the seasons
and a breeze in the fall,
so easy to fall in love with
it'll steal the cigarette smoke
from your fingers tips
and twirl it into the air
above you like a shaken
water globe
and they've got open mic nights
on saturdays,
always played by my best friends
always attended by everyone
i don't think that i'm home sick
unless home is the warmth of a hand
reaching over my shoulder to
make sense of the fear inside of my head...
in which case
yes
i'm home sick
to the sickest degree

Filled to the brim
with anxiety,
you took me gently
by the waist and tipped me over
It poured sweetly from my eyes
And rested on the skin over my cheekbones
You wiped it all away
With the tip of your finger
And the patience of your nature
I built a home
inside the bend of your elbow
You rocked me to sleep
I overflow here without you
As I stare vacantly through the window
Of my second story apartment
Begging the stars to kiss my forehead
The same way you always did

I know a new place
doesn't guarantee a new life

                               A new
                                           skyline
is nothing but a
fine line
Between
                    where I am
and
         where I was

I know that a new bed
won't put to rest the
chaos
                          inside my head

But
can
you
really
say,
you wouldn't
see this the same
way?

                              I've been looking for home
since the day I was born
                    Can you blame me for hoping
these new walls would take me there?

How much pain
adds up to change?

I thought if I swam out
of our stagnant waters,
and let the current carry
me forward you'd feel
inclined to follow

Realizing you weren't going to,
made the water seem a little more violent
and my limbs feel a little heavier
It was painful
I was confused
And scared
But never once did I consider
drifting back into the world we
"lived" in as an option

So
I guess
Maybe...
You were never the reason in the first place
Just, maybe
You weren't the force that kept me
standing still
And maybe
You weren't the force that pushed me
forward
Maybe
You weren't a guiding force at all

Perhaps it's possible
You were never even necessary
Perhaps it's possible
I'm strong enough all on my own

We'll just have to
wait & see
But in the mean time,
*don't wait around for me

I feel my heart jumping around
in my chest, just slightly
Begging to beat chaotically
and slam into my frame,
But I close my eyes for just a second
& swallow the urge

I haven't ran out of feelings
I've just ran out of time

I'm too busy
for a break down
But if I could
I would
taste the sweet
forgiving
satisfaction
of a million salty tears;
One for each worry
Rolling down my cheek bones
And finding relief on my lips
Oh what I'd do

But the clock,
It ticks
And a blurry eyed fit
is last on my list
of things to do today

I want to find poetry
in media theory
I want to find poetry
in philosophy
psychology
sociology
I want to find poetry
in the bored line of zombies
walking these streets
9 o'clock every ******* morning
I want to find poetry in
the kid scratching himself out of his skin
in the creaking chair beside me...
His voice: muffled with aggravation
and his eyes: red, sad & exhausted
They make it hard
Hard to see the beauty in this place
I want to find poetry in the distance
I want to find poetry in missing you to death
But it all just kind of blurs together
in the hot Philadelphian sun
reflecting off the pavement beneath
my tired feet
It all eventually just gets lost in the gutters
next to cigarette buds and the green glass
debris of old beer bottles all over this city
Nothing really looks like poetry
Anymore
And I'm scared
Scared I'm losing myself
Surrendering my emotions
Or trading them
For some title that says,
"Yeah. She's literate"
Because that's all it really adds up to
Pretty ******* literate
Pretty ******* bored
And definitely boring
I don't wanna be boring
And I don't wanna be bored
Don't let me lose my dreams
Please
Please don't let me go
Go this way

My head feels like it's shaking,
cracking & breaking
from the inside out
I can feel my brain shifting
Slamming violently into the walls
of my skull
I'm hot
And cold
And hungry
And anxious
I'm tired
And angry
And lazy
And stressed
I feel like screaming
And crying
... and smoking
and smoking
Yeah I really feel like smoking
**I haven't in four days,
this is the price a juvenile addiction pays

As a kid,
I'd see that look in your eyes
and it'd hurt me deeply
but I wouldn't know why
The saddest part of being an adult,
is understanding things like that
I wish I didn't have a reason
to comprehend that feeling

For four years I trusted in the
most cliche of cliches,
The ones that say
it'll all be okay one day
& you'll find a way
But nothing ever budges and honestly,
I'm losing faith in those words
Losing strength in my voice
When everything hurts
And everyone leaves
What's left to comfort me...?

Here we are again,
18 & already broken
I can feel my heart beating in my back
And my throat closing
The air around me dissolving
Disappearing
My lungs are empty
Tightening
Gasping
Shrinking
Inside of me
It's 3 AM
and the night is thick,
wet and warm as it falls
down around me
Street lights reflecting the
left over dew of a humid summer
My limbs are stuck to these sheets
My mind is racing
My head is aching
We all wanna talk about our feelings
But I just want my *******
tonsils to stop being swollen
for one month out of the year
This illness takes a toll
And it's more than physical,
when sleep is perpetually lost
and pain is perpetually growing
Forget the Vicodin,
I'll swallow a bullet
Lay a handgun down on my night stand
I'll reach for it
like the bottle of pills I'm so sick of grabbing

You've always been here
Five years
I call you
& you come to me,
with whatever piece of you I require
Which is why I get no sympathy
for staying up all night
hysterically whining
that I need you
I say,
"I miss him so much
I can feel my body aching
every second of every day"
And they just look at me
with confused eyes,
releasing frustrated sighs
as to say... he never left...
But,
Those pieces
The ones you give to me
are nothing but painful reminders
that I no longer have the whole thing
They'll never know
how much of you I've actually lost
Because all they see is you standing in front of me,
holding my skull into your chest,
and wiping the tears off my cheek bones
They see you here
But you & I
both know you're not

Just a ghost
A lingering reflection
A still frame

A shadow

of an affection

that once meant everything

"Illogical"
She told me
And then I searched
for a justification of my
feelings, of my actions
I came up short
But continued in my disordered ways
just the same
If you think about it,
most things don't make sense
Not at all
That doesn't mean they're wrong
Some things just happen
Some times life just is
And we wanna know,
us humans
We crave understanding
Of ourselves
Of everyone else
We're under the impression that if we look
deep enough we can find it but
maybe it's just not there
Never was
and never will be
That scares us,
the generation of knowledge
Not to know
We want answers
but I'm not wasting my time