I don't want to talk about you moving on
I don't want to discuss your future
I don't want to hear about you cutting off the dead weight to fly free and happy while I fall to ground and break the concrete.

On days like today
I feel like the hurricane and also everything it destroys
On days like today
I know most of the damage started a long time ago, started slowly, before people took notice
I know that when you swallow so much
You eventually twist and turn and rage over the sea
Smash into, inhale, devastate everything in your path
On days like today
I am so so so sorry

I'm going through something
It comes with a lot of emotion and music and thinking and writing (most of which doesn't make total sense yet)
And, mom, I will be fine
I just need space
I need to not talk
Or I need to talk too much
I want to be who I want to be - I'm ready
I'm done sitting and thinking about it
And mourning
I don't want to grieve anymore
I need to let myself be hungry
I will forgive myself even if it came last
I'm going through something
And it comes with... Well, a lot

i just know i made you feel so alive

I've never been good at being alone.
Never.
I've always needed.
Needed and needed more.
Why can't I just be alone?
Why is it worse now?
She tries. Tries more than they did. She soothes.
I know I need too much.
Nothing's ever good enough.
It's true.  
It's inside me, and I feel it, and I ignore it, and it wrenches at my organs.
Why can't I be alone?

I would honestly do anything for you
youre the first and only I can say that to
there are loads of things I can't express
like that I love you more than I could even suggest

i envy the ghosts
who get to spend all their time where they want, with whom they want
i envy their transparency
that would allow me to watch over you
eradicating facades, destroying pretenses
i'm really getting quite jealous of the ghosts, how they are able to drift silently around you, gazing at you, watching you laugh, cry and live.
but i know now that i am a ghost
and sadly i have my limits

I knew I was being pathetic,
desperate,
but God, I just wanted to talk to you.
I just wanted to hide in that small, dark room forever, listening to your voice.

I don't agree or like how it isn't normal or common or nice to say that I don't know if I'm supposed to be with you.
you make me feel so empty sometimes. like when I think of you saying her name or telling me those stories that send my heart to the bottom of my torso
how am I supposed to know if this is how it's supposed to be? sure, baby, you make me so happy. you make me ache with want. is that how it's supposed to be?
you know and I've said
love has never been worth it for me
and God it's never made sense
this doesn't make sense.
you make me feel like I'm running on empty, babe
you make me feel drained and sorry and restless and forever seventeen
you make me jealous and angry and you make me feel just as notgoodenough as the rest of em, love
why can't I just say this to you? it's not like it isn't any of your business. this could be a feeling that keeps my ring off your finger.

baby
baby
I wanna make your stomach flip
but I have never been deserved by anyone
I have always been too good
too kind
too much too soon
too ready to be loved
the way
I always should have been





I wish you would have been the first

all you had to do was
look and
see
what was right in ******* front of you

distance
depression
desperation

i would say, "here i am again"
but it seems to be a different place every time i fall down here.
maybe like a house you've been visiting since childhood but each time you find it, it's on a different street, it's a different color, full of different furniture.
i'm in it again.
i don't remember how.
it's a blur of empty words
too much sleep
miles of cigarettes
and a need to bleed.
it occurs to me there's no one to drag me out alive this time.

The world always made me feel like I am
too much, too fast
And maybe that's just really unfair
Maybe the only one I should apologize to
is myself
For saying, "shh, keep that in. They're not ready for that."
I am not sorry I lived too much, too soon. I am not sorry I know too well what I want and need now.

a hollow in my stomach
sometimes i feel sick
a hole in my heart
maybe it was always there
a clock that only i can hear ticking
i wish i could say that i didn't know
it was possible to want something so badly it hurt but i have felt it before
just never so much of it
my tongue wants to speak cliches into repetition madness
my eyes want to cry an ocean up to the moon
my head gives me useless ******* logic

my heart wants you more every day

Don't do it
Don't do it
Don't
Do
It

I think it's really good that I can't write poetry anymore
Or is it?
Am I fixed or am I numbed?
Did she pull all the broken glass out of my mouth?
Did I swallow it?
Can you run from the wreckage and fall apart in the very first place you ever felt safe,
Does that make it okay?
My heart is a tragedy
Always sad, always awake alone at night
And I would not change it.
But
Why didn't I ever dream of anything?
Did I forget?
Jesus Christ
I didn't build this life for me
My heart was torn and stitched and ripped and sewn and sprayed blood over half the country before I sat here in one place to say
Am I fixed?

I am a house on fire
I am a cracked windshield waiting for a bump in the road
I am ***** clothes in the corner of the bedroom
I am a respiratory system full of water


You think your suffering friends never reached out because they thought you wouldn't understand, wouldn't be there for them...
No. The reason they didn't come to you
is because there was nothing you could do.

wait
where did you go?
all I can see is your ghost
but you swore that you loved us
so, so, so

please
tell me that you’re still with me
just out there somewhere spinning
even if you’re far from yourself
please don’t let that news hit me

help
I’m over here always angry
and you’d never even thank me
give you every chance you’ll take,
and you’ll always leave me hanging

maybe it’s not fair
I could never not care
I’ll curse your name
while I carry your pain
and a mostly silent rage
god, take us to an enlightened age
not your violent grave

What if I don't make it to where I'm supposed to be before I have a chance to change it all?

I wonder what you've told them about me
I wonder if you told them the whole thing hurt like hell

I run my hand across my skin and expect to feel my old body, it's a shock sometimes
This one is heavier, stretched, scarred and permanently bruised
And I don't know what I'll see when they flash the lights
But lately I'm stuck in the idea that we never fit together very well
It's like pushing two wrong puzzle pieces together and realizing it makes a better picture than the one on the box
"Robin's better than the perfect girl. She's real."
But how many times do I have to make the worst decision?
For once I want to be something... Quiet. Content. Restful.
How sobering it would be to sit and think
"things are good. this is nice. I will never
need anything else."

first heartaches
but not an innocent
and gentle
introduction
to sorrow

first heartbreaks
of fists and claws
tearing fibers away
memories of stumbling, gripping
the threads together, so far from sewn

stitched heart strings
together, or tried to,
fire came, not right
but right on time, and blazed through
the twines and lines

first heart pains
not kind or lenient,
or considerate of youth.
ripped and burned,
and drained,
and i had only a child’s blood to bleed.