Tangled
*******
Little knots

Narrow
Unfazed
Dull thoughts

Obscure
Underground
Sit as it rots

Undone
Defying
Boiled in pots

Badlands
Abandoned
Inhabited lots

They see my dimming embers

Nobody sees me hopelessly pawing at the ashes of who I once was

They see my empty stares

Nobody notices the red tears that have forever scarred my cheeks

They see my freshly cooked arms

Not hearing the profanity I screamed at myself as I singed my flesh

They see my crumbs and leaks

Nobody knows the violent contortions of my withering essence

They see me drowning

Nobody acknowledges my cries as I fight to keep my head above water

They see me jump off the deep end

But nobody knows the depths of my tortured, charred, shallow loneliness

Sometimes I gotta wonder what the **** is this high that I'm chasing
Sadly, after all the drugs I'm still alone in my room pacing

Breaking blocks, those building blocks seem so dilapidated
******* words, truths seeming too **** constipated

Black ink stains find revival as I turn to gray and I'm fading
Head to toes, covered in dirt, then used and abused- degrading

Dirt cheap highs to save me from the lows I've been facing
*And **** all as I'm jaded and lost and find myself spacing

Why does every poem published feel risky?
Why does it cause me such a hard time?
I think "What am I even doing?"
And "Am I wasting my time?"

Is it recognition that I'm seeking?
Or is there something else I'm trying to find?

And just what is wrong with me?
Is this a talent, obsession, or is it an affliction?

If you could only see the way i scribble addictively..
I wouldn't be shocked if you staged an intervention.
Am I a poet or am I losing my sanity?
And could all my hopes be founded in fiction?

Still, my goal isn't nearly defined.
My mental organization could be improved..
I write as much as a nut case of some kind.
Is it in my best interest for my pen to be removed?

Patterns and stanzas keep me shallowly refined.
I'll ignore the hazard; it's excused.

*No reason to admit defeat because of cold feet.

1, 2, 3, 4
Counting
Always counting

Staring at clocks
Stomach in knots

Breadcrumb trails
In the little details

Of what has been lost..

Lately
Sometimes
I think, maybe
I'm a little
lost..

Just counting

Hours* fly by in minutes
While they *drag on for days

You're standing beside me
But I know you're miles away

My head won't stop spinning
As I search for the words to say..

*..And I need you here with me
But you've already gone away..

I wish I met you sooner
my heart knows no love
I wish I met you sooner
so my heart knows love

my soul was empty
yours too
my soul was empty
yours was too

I loved to write
you loved to draw
I love you
you love me

I was afraid
you were scared
we took a gamble
look at us now