Love only what you want for,
spiritually poor
and unsatisfied.

Kids keep keeping score,
who hurts more,
new way to stratify.

Pondering life's meaning
but there is little more
forget how to be alive.

They lied

There is absolutely nothing funny about this feeling.

You scare me
I know why, yet it remains a mystery.
I am in fear
of your voice's cadence, your gentle bird bones,
the whisper of tender strength beneath your chest, your skin.
I cower at the sight
of such a sharp jaw,
such soft eyes,
such dark waves.
What I am truly terrified of is the way that you make me feel
Because how do you make me feel?
You light me up, you listen,
you lend a shoulder as well as you lend an ear.
All this safety and security, a metaphor to your smile,
and a feeling somewhat like infinity.
All this
yet the ache in my chest stems from your lack of breast.
Where you stay firm, I crave the curve.
I do not know if I should overlook it,
more over, I do not know if I can.

I can no longer hate the people I used to know.
They are not the same
and I am different, too.
But to stop hating means to stop hurting
and I've gotta milk this dry.

I try on bulimia

but I don't like the way it fits

We are full of .ourselves.
like our cries are more noteworthy than the others.

We turn and say "shut the **** up"
We are full of .****.

I have been looking for so long for my other half,
searching in the most unlikely corners of the earth for them.
I have met an immeasurable amount of people and questioned every single one to **** them down.
I've written unlikely narratives, forcing them to fit,
and gone against my own standards and sanity to complete this puzzle.
But today
I showered myself.
I thought and ate and spoke
and braided my own hair
and lotioned my own skin.
There is no other half.
I am whole and I am one.

I am not a fraction of a human being