I could write something about not being able to find the right words
I was honestly planning on it,
I'm not so good with language
for someone who calls himself a poet

nevertheless, I am a believer in definitions
and surprisingly enough
I like words

I dress everything up in adverbs and poetic devices
still,
usually the things that make me happy don't make very good poems

although I'd still like to try for you

immortalising this feeling in any descriptor I can pull
out to describe it

I like making things pretty, especially with words
like I make myself look pretty when I know I might run into you

on the off-chance that you might notice
I sparkle when I see you
it's not just the glitter, either

I'm not wearing any blush, it's all natural

there's this thought in my head
a foreboding that it might turn bad

just like I might **** you off so bad that
I start to look more appealing to punch than the drywall

having said that, it doesn't really matter,
I'm always scared

you wouldn't hurt me like that

I trust you enough
to fall asleep next to you
because I know I won't wake up with knife marks

I trust you enough to be vulnerable, to be mentally ill

to tell you,
I'm not a normal kid
I'm not healthy

but know that you're not just an extension of my recovery

you're not my ego-boost machine
or a stuffed toy for nothing but empty affection

I really like you
the things you do,
the way you talk so posh

I want to be with you
the way you are with me,
the way you're so sweet and patient

I want to be better with you
to not be so much

don't misunderstand,
I don't depend on you

I can breathe on my own
and my heart doesn't stop when you go home in the morning

but I'd much rather sync my heartbeat with yours

and rest my pretty little head on your chest while I fall asleep

Do not lecture me on the present or now

I will spend the rest of my life

Trying to live in the past

I will spend my entire life

Trying to find what I already lost for good

And this will never change

Because the only constant I'm allowed to have

Is to regret wasting what I had

And I will regret wasting this moment writing ****** poetry

And I already do

Because I could have had what I want

If I didn't squander my nights like this

If I didn't waste my days feeling sorry for myself

Maybe I could be who I wanted to be

If I was allowed just more constant

Just please give me one more thing that isn't so changeable

Just one thing

*please...

It's 1 in the morning and I'm trying to decide how I want to die

But I don't want to die, of course not.

I want to live.
I just want to live in a way in which I feel good..

Hell, a life in which I feel anything would be great.

"Pain is the only thing that reminds us we feel"

sure, okay!

I don't even ******* dream anymore.

What does life mean when you don't even want anything out of it?

If you can't dream or aspire then what is the actual point ?

What's the point of living as a ghost ?

I don't even think about it anymore because it would crush me. it would eat me alive. starting in my gut, dissolving through the fat like acid tossed in someone's face. you'll see right through me like my skin is made of glass. empty greenhouse. bricked windows. only weeds and mold grow here.

can you touch me and pretend like the fat doesn't gather around my chest and hips? can you touch me like a boy would touch a boy?
can you hear me like it's a polite young man talking? can you hear the shrill, nasally drone and remember that it's supposed to be me?  
can you stop looking into my eyes? can you sew them shut? can you stop pretending to know all that I am?
can you come up behind me and smash my head in with a glass bottle?

I've lost my way with words recently, you know that
I mean, I stutter like a nervous wreck and the things I say are pretentious as all hell
but even so
you make me want to write something sweet and sincere
you make me want to shout ****** ******- my heart is beating so fast!
you make me want to laugh so hard we fall in the mud and even though we're filthy we keep on laughing like the morons we are
I want to be still for you, no more fits and no more tremors
but most of all?
I want to kiss you
and enjoy the simple pleasures of being two teenagers in love

I don't write that kind of poetry
you know the type,
pretty flowing words that trickle down the page like a quaint little waterfall in a fancy garden
while daisies open themselves up with so much confidence
without any doubt

and I say something about myself without saying anything at all

the three dimensional poems that you could take a stroll through
and you can lay in the summer grass by the lake
you could get lost in the meaning

even though you're not so certain what the meaning is,
at least not for sure

no, I'm not so good at that

my words are more like...
running through the forest while it's dark and cold
because you want to get home and you're positive
you just heard something rustle in the dead leaves behind you

like telling your blaring warning signs to calm the **** down,
it's just an uneasy feeling

like telling the paranoiac to grow up and walk the **** pathway

it's shameful, annoying,
it's just some dumb feeling

no,
I don't write the sweet paintings kind of poem

I write my heart out into my notebook before I scribble it out and decide I had better not bother

my poems are regret-
regretting putting something good in my butchered understanding of art and words

every piece is the best I can do
and that's about it

if you see a bright light it's only human nature to chase after it

as I lay there, hugging my knees, tucked up into my jacket
the 4am gales swept away any comfort I may have found, and I thought of a wisdom I once heard,
"this, too, shall pass"

and I clung to the thought as my eyes drifted shut,
as the dawn stumbled its way forth
and the street lights weren't needed anymore
"this, too, shall pass"

and as my head drifted from concrete
back to cotton sheets
and I felt safe and content and greatful for all I have
I breathed a sigh
softly, in relief
"this too shall pass,"

I fiddle around with the truth in my hands
trying to mold it into a shape I can stand
(that isn't age 7 when I didn't understand)

I look up and say with a pensive sigh,
"I've never made love to anyone,"
because that is no lie

but I promise myself, there is hope for a body profane as mine
a ****** I will be! and I'll make love for the first time-

to a lover, to a tender hand,
to another boy and not a man

in the queen-sized bed, on the soft white sheets
intertwined and in love, our bodies will meet

people always told me to hold onto the spark but it only ever got me in trouble
neurosis crawling up my spine and stunting the growth just below my neck

I am stunted, those boys in baggy school blazers and leather shoes will grow into men and I've barely got an inch on them

a savant of sorts, sure, but I'm not a child anymore
my ways hold me back; my ways hold me down

the spark I was told to to hold on ever so tightly, it hurts peoples eyes and burns their fingertips

I will not grow
I will only die down and submit to
the natural elements

disintegrate along with the vapour of the candle when it burns out

I asked you who you were and what you like to do and you responded with a list of girls you want to ****

I asked what music you listen to and what TV shows you watch and you responded by telling me that the girl at the coffee store counter in the black coat with the dyed hair and dark blue lipstick probably had a tight *****

I asked you if you care that I think you're defined by the young girls whos names don't even matter to you as you drag them through the mud

I asked if you thought a woman is worth anything more than tight jeans and fully-made faces

I asked if you thought that a woman had something more to offer her legs and whats between them

and you told me to shut it with that feminist *******
and help you get that girls number etched into your bedpost

as I sat there watching the birds dart about in my own little fenced off Eden
I thought to myself
good grief! That tar they pave the roads with is ugly!
unfortunately,
not even weeds grow in an asphalt garden

AND DOWN DOWN DOWN WE GO

DOWN THE SPIRAL OF THE SLIDE

PUSHED TO THE BOTTOM AGAIN

COVERED IN BRUISES BECAUSE YOU WERE UNPREPARED

BY THE PERSON WITH THE SAME BODY AS YOU

BUT ITS NOT QUITE YOU

AND ITS ASKING YOU SOMETHING

"YOU'RE ALIVE AREN'T YOU?
I'M REMINDING YOU THAT YOU ARE ALIVE
WHY AREN'T YOU THANKING ME?"

I try to act natural, try to blink like a human might do
but I can't help but check, check, check
the TV is off, the computer is off, the plug socket is on

where is that sound coming from?

I thought I saw a cage

I thought I saw iron bars covering my escape

I thought I saw the walls being built around me, the spaces smaller and smaller until I was crushed

I thought I saw a prison

I thought I was going to be held captive until I died

And I was wrong

I'm free like a bird

But then I realised

Not all prisons are cages

When I was younger
I loved the world
I saw no suffering
Pain is a distant myth
Bees fly high in their way
Birds singing their cheerful melody
Cats and dogs played chase till sun's end

That was a wonderful time

And what did you do to it?

"Stupid boy, that's not right"
Your words were foreign to me
I have not heard them
I tilt my head and ask you
"what?"

"Dumb boy, you have an attitude"
These words again
No definition in my mind
I ask you again
What do you intend with these words?

"Your mother has done wrong in raising you, undisciplined, disobedient, you'll get nowhere in life"
Am I one to be trained like a dog?
I begin to think
What have I done?
No answer comes to mind
But maybe what I do right is wrong?
Maybe that's what it is
It must be
No other reason explains it

What have I done right?
I can't tell
Not anymore
The lines between right and wrong start fading
It was right, right?
Or definitely wrong.
Or is that wrong?
I don't know

Now years later
I still don't tell
I can't
Not because I lack the effort to try
Just the motivation
I tried again
And my efforts are failing me
So why try now?

It all makes sense to me
Good and bad
I can't understand your reasoning
That's my downfall
Empathy is not something I am not capable of
But I don't think you are

I think I might of been able to tell
Long ago
But you beat that out of me

The perfect vision to see
I see no lines anymore
Colourblind to green and red

Fades out to gray

And soon

It'll fade out to white

And I won't know

If that's right

I grew up
wanting to be you
because you were
cool and mature

the cigarettes,
the alcohol,
the ***

the peak teenage life
that this little boy
idolized

and in the end
I did end up like you

but I realized you've always been
a scared, scarred child
like me

and the life that we chose
isn't really a choice

it's the curse that came
from an old man's ***** hands

and while you tried to wash it off
you dragged me into the bathtub

and your
beautifully manicured hands
were filthy

you grabbed my wrist so hard
you might have broke it if I tried to resist

I wish I had snapped my arm out from your grip
and shouted for my brother

but I didn't do that
I kept quiet

because I wanted to be cool like you

It's not that big a deal
I stare at the food dropped carelessly into the sink
It's only spilled
I can make some more
I look at the empty bowl beside me
It's not that big a deal
I mean I'm hungry and I haven't eaten all day
But I guess it's fine
And I guess I was really trying to be healthy again
But that's okay
mistakes happen
And I guess that things haven't been going too well
And the only solace I can find lately is little things that show I'm still capable
Simple things like having a meal
And now it's all in the sink
And that's fine
that's fine
I'm so hungry and tired and I don't have any energy left
It's alright I guess
It's fine
I'll just wash away the mess
And go without food today

You are not a part of something greater than yourself

You are in its way

You are not part of the stars and the moon and the planets,

You are not the grassy green fields of July,

You are not the infinite sea,

You are not the finite deserts

You are all you will ever be

And that is small-

Smaller than we can even conceive

You are a ghost

You are a squeak

You are a shadow

You are limited.

Something we will never be

"What happened to you?"
She beckons from the mirror

Her laugh is sorrowful

Her eyes are dead

"What happened to you?"
She asks
giggling like a child

I look down and sigh

"I grew up."

Her smile turns freakishly gleeful

"You did what?"
She asks again

I take a deep breath
*"I grew up"

my spine curves inward and outward like the horizon of a burial mound
if I stand up straight you might clock the little girl that's buried there

My clothes are stained

My mind is a mess

I'm not good at breathing

My head hurts

And so does my chest

I can't do this anymore

I don't know what I'll do now

But it'll happen

Soon

I fought against this life as hard as a scared child could and it still didn't work
I tried my hardest to be truly alive but I was too weak
I have no choice in being this way

you threw your life away because you couldn't be bothered to live it