My mistake
Was loving you too hard.
My regret
Was never telling you
That I needed love back.

I hate my personality.
I don't have a personality
That cultivates relationships.
No,
My personality leads to anguish -
Insecurity.
If I could,
For once,
Harvest a bit of
Silence in my brain -
I'd love that.
I hate to feel anxiety;
Fear of abandonment;
Insecurity;
Obscurity;
I hate to feel what I feel.
What's worse,
I can't find elegant words
To describe it.
Leaving me mute,
People assume things about me,
Making my efforts moot.
Friends think I'm overbearing;
Demanding.
Romances think I don't trust them;
That I'm too controlling,
Insecure;
Dependent;
Too moody;
Too possessive.
My personality makes people leave me.
I'm too touchy -
Too hard to love or understand.
People see me,
And expect me to freak out,
Or to demand attention.
Well this is my account -
Because when you are on
The borderline,
It's easy to see
That the grass is greener
On either side -
But for others,
You seem polarized.
I'm not happy with how my brain works.
I don't want to be the way I am.
I don't want to make sure people are
Thinking about me...
And then feel guilty or angry when they don't,
Or can't.
I hate my personality.
I hate who I am.
It causes me to never feel comfort,
And my unrest has left me
An insomniac for too long.
Now,
I just want to rest.
But,
It's hard to sleep when you're alone
And afraid of the dark.

Sweet bitter tastes touch my tongue,
Turning knots of nothingness.
Regret, relief, repose, rewind-
Take a poison-
Ease my mind.
Calm me down now.
Soon, there will be no pain.
Little toxins leak tenderly
And I feel better.
These kind chemicals
Was over me
Like a wave of pure water-
Droplets fall from the skies:
My eyes.
Cries, and sighs.
Breathe a last breath,
We are all ok.
Take this vegetation,
Take life away.
A nightshade salad,
My perfect deadly nutrition.
Swallow down those berries,
Eat the flowers and leaves.
My favorite plant
Will appease
The emptiness inside of me.
Deadly nightshade-
Belladonna.
The purple beauty of
Dreams of death.

It's been a year since my suicide attempt. Right now, I'd be in the ER waiting to find out which inpatient clinic I'd go to. One year. Since, I have escaped from toxic people and shifted from an old self. One year. What do I have to show for it? Emotional outbursts? A nicotine addiction? Abandoning my creativity? A battle with a psychological addiction to psychedelic drugs? What does progress look like? What does it mean to reconstruct yourself? A building torn - that's what I am. A prairie, a forest, which has experienced a wild fire. Beyond recognition, I deface myself - as if to erase myself and destroy the things I like. What does progress look like? Am I getting there? In my view, progress is not always seen by you directly. It is not our job to determine if we make progress, but, by the value of people and situations in our lives, we will have it be seen. To do things for ourselves is wonderful. But, what does progress look like? It looks like making giant leaps forward - and then three steps back. It looks like dipping our toe in the water, and then wanting to dry off. It looks like it's perfect, but actually not. It looks like a broken toy fixed with expired super glue. Who are we to determine progression? It's an obsession of the mind for us to think that progress means we must always be fine - that we must be perfect. If I have a million irrational thoughts in a day, does that make my one totally rational thought insignificant? I think not. If I spend one day totally upbeat, productive, and happy - are my sad feelings any less valid? No. So, progress looks like this: admitting to yourself that sometimes we won't have things together completely. We acknowledge it, think rationally, and move to the next focus. Progress is not total immunization of our quirks, but it is less demonization for how we work. Our brains - they want to help us survive. The brain gets confused among irrational thoughts and can jump and put us in an emotional turmoil jeopardy. But, be kind to yourself. Be kind to the "miswires" in your brain - because it cares for you and wants you to survive. Strive. What does progress look like? I'm not sure if I can see mine - I'm not sure what it totally looks like. But, maybe, look in a mirror. See yourself - the reflection of desire. Aspire to be who you are, judgement free. In a sort of clarity, you can see. Ask yourself:
"What does progress look like?"
It looks a bit like you.

We feel ******* vibrations
When our skin touches
And I place lips on your lips
And grab your hips.

And you bury your face in my neck
And it fits perfectly.
Make the love to me -
But without any penetrating
Because your voice alone
Can be my release
And your kisses
Are an ejaculatory
Ecstasy.

So bite me.

A mind full of patterns
In every which way.
Crawling,
Scrawling,
And cycling
On my walls.
Waves of colors burst
And I forget myself.
Fly into my spiritual dimension
And ascend.
Then it ends.
And I feel some clarity
And comfort
Wash over me.

I'm overbearing,
Always oversharing.
Too much caring
So cease
The beast
Inside
That feasts
And preys
On my heart
With every defeat.

Racing through life
On tracks like train cars.
But we move too fast
To appreciate the now,
Now.

Love is the pit
I find myself in
Too many times
To be forgotten by another
Who probably didn't deserve me
Or maybe I didn't deserve them:
Friends
Lovers
Family
I don't.

Love is like a pit,
And I slipped from the edge.
And when I fall,
I fall hard.

One dimensional,
Maybe I'm one dimensional
A little misdirectional
And slightly dysfunctional.
Time to feel hypersexual
Fighting myself
Like I have a pervasive obsession
That's so sensational.
Have a story to tell
But I can't read
And plead
To bleed
The ink
That fights so deep
And jeez -
Please
Take the ease off
Puff some nicotine
The fiend
So obscene,
Pop a tab
Trip to be so free.
Psychological
Addiction,
I have these afflictions.
But there's something
That's missin'
I'm constantly accusin'
Myself,
A hell.
Some help?
No, I just fell
Into one plain
Of existence
I'm flat and submissive.
I'm occasional,
And blameable,
But most of all,
One dimensional.

I remember when I was
Self-conscious.
Sure, I still have my struggles-
Little negative thoughts navigate
Through nothingness natively out of
My mouth.
But, sometimes I like to think
I am the greatest.
Sometimes, I like what I do.
Through and through,
I try to keep this thought true,
Take something I learned and
Share it with you.
I feel new,
Just sometimes.
As if I am not who I was back then.
As if depression never took me,
And if social anxiety
Was a construct of pseudoscience.
Sometimes I feel stronger,
As if I can take on the world;
By my own hero,
And save the ones I love.
Sometimes, I feel the sunshine
And the weight lift from my shoulder.
The older
I get, the longer it stays.
I am getting better,
Or maybe I was never
Ill in the first place.
I can do things
Other cannot,
But also learn from those same people.
I can grow as me-
Stop the burning and cutting
And constant lonely late night crying.
I am free to be balanced
And to be me
And happy.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
I get a glimpse of the time if those moments
Became my everytime.
And then I smile, and breathe
Just breathe.
And continue to think of myself
As broken, but still beautiful

When life gives you lemons, you make some cough drops.
Enough to cure ache inside
from times I've cried
I died
Inside
My head
So many times.
I have tried
To come back
And as a matter of fact,
I'm here to act
Upon the soul
In me
Who is too afraid to speak
And eat away
And put my feelings
At bay.
I wish I didn't have to feel sometimes.
I wish,
I could really be divine.
I wish,
I could dine upon
The banquet
I deserve.
Regulate me,
For once.
I want to feel normal.
I want to be ok.
I want to see the day
When I'm on top
And seize it
As if I was that way
A lot.
But no,
Things don't work out that way.
Things don't magically happen.
I struggle
And toil
And spoil myself
Like a foil
To my own protagonist.
This is a tragic story
Agonist -
And I'm the arsonist
To set my body ablaze
And that doesn't even phase
Me.
To be
Clear,
Cloud free
For once.
Just once.
Would make me happy.
And maybe,
One day I will.
If I try.

I love you like the
Moon loves the stars
Like the street loves
The cars.
But what can I say?
Before it's too late,
It might already might be-

I will tell you something about
Best friends
And good people:
They just don't exist.
And sometimes
You are the worst one.

Cats have the power to heal,
Because they feel
What you feel.
These companions,
Connected to us
With love and spirit.
And they are unaware
Of how much they help us.
And for that, we
Must always
Take care of them.

My ravenous love
Bites my neck
And I get goosebumps

I had a dream of the time
We were born.
We lived beautifully in the city
Of wombs.
We clapped our hands and laughed.
We drank the paint dry
And the colors of the rainbow changed.
We began to be wanted,
To be embraced,
To be loved.
And we became unable to walk alone.

We laughed at each other,
Devoting our love to only toys.
Those untouchable,
Unbreakable,
Unshakeable
Sick and mentally-ill children;
I want to break them with easy words!

The ******* set fire
In a faraway town,
Someone died.
Beckoned by lemmings,
At the end of the world,
We arrived-
But somehow survived
The apocalypse
Of our own design
Armed with weapons of paper and a pen,
Vowing to not let people
Hurt us again.
But none of that saved me
From the disgrace I felt
At the End.

Breaths come in and out
Our open mouths -
But this time you gasp
And grasp
For the words to speak instead
As they form inside your head.

Medicate me, I’m a mess.
A ****** up forgotten trash bag.
Smiles begin to sag,
And I feel less like myself.
Trapped in an everlasting personal Hell.
My life has always been a scale
Of playing it safe and false alarms.
I gave myself scars to prove
Pain on the outside doesn’t match up
With what I feel inside.
Disgusting depression degrading me still
Fill me up with a happy pill.
Don’t spiral me downward,
Sustain me with sweet serotonin.
I want to feel mania
Wash over me.
Artificially make me happy,
I am your robot to program now.
No longer to live of my own volition.
A pill can save me,
Less likely to be stuck with
Worthless self-pity.
Prozac, Lexapro; other reuptake
Suppressants.
I am coming to love antidepressants.
A junior ***** to be;
Pop these drugs,
Be set free.
Ironic, isn’t it?
Jail cells made from
Prescription bottles
Are supposed to liberate me
From constant sadness.
But, how can that be?
With a chemical to rely on,
I am not actually free.
I am doomed.
I am crazy.
This is who I am.
I will never be normal.
Just a little longer,
I’ll be fine when life kills.
Guess I’ll **** down more happy pills.

Lies come and
cover your eyes
from the truth
because that's
what they're meant
to do.

We relish in air
Of people who seem to think
It's ok go spit
Empty compliments
In sacrifice
Of meaningful sentiments -
Like a wave of self-respect
Can be forgotten
In a tide
Of fake kindness

You looked up at me,
Wide-eyes;
Expecting some demise.
You just woke up,
I was amazed to see
Your small black and white
Body curled.
Your tummy rising and falling.
You were beautiful.
The way you held on
To me as I picked you up;
Loveable.
My Leo.
I long to hear your bell again:
Sure, it kept me up all night-
In fact, your meows along
Lost me hours of sleep.
You were talkative, yes.
But, I suppress…
I lived for you in that moment.
I miss how you would hide.
Some nights I would cry
If I couldn’t find your hiding spot.
Of course, you didn’t realize how
Much you scared me.
But, surely you knew
The care
I had for you.
I long to nap with you
Again, my friend.
My first cat.
I wanted to spend
A good portion of my life with you.
But, life had other plans.
You were born with some mis-wires.
You had trembles,
Seizures-
Electrical shocks turning to personal
Earthquakes.
You stopped eating then.
You were unhealthy.
And it became hard
To admit
That with all the love I had,
It could never have prevented
The end.

Who am I?
A poet who wants
To stargaze?
Sure,
But in my ways,
I am blinded-
Like I'm bound
By chains of depression-
Anxiety-
I don't mind it.
Let it flow into my
Dead head
As I drift off to bed.
I can be perfect-
And then the worst.
I can be amazing-
And then a curse-
A hex-
A spell-
Leading people to a personal hell,
Like I do to myself.
Positivity bleeding,
And beating out of me
Like a river of blood
To a make a flood
Out of tears.
Beyond my years,
And fears-
I have my own shadow
Of doubt.
So now
I'm out
Of the count.

We cast our lines
And hooks
Into the sea
And wait for bites
From the many fish
But,
I never really liked
Fishing anyways

I am the god
Of my own life -
A songbird to sing
And cling
To those who I love.
I am the author
Of my own story,
My mind is the pen
And hand
With which I write
And scribble new lines -
I am the divine.
Bless'ed be the time
Which I feel beautiful;
Amazing tis the feeling
To feel wonderful,
Incredible.
To share this feeling with others
Is an aptitude
Of a wondrous attitude.
To love yourself
Is to bury your own soul
Into your own heart.

Smile,
Like a jack-o'-lantern
Who can shine for
A mile.
Show yourself,
Like you are breaking free
Of chains
That bind you.
And light up,
Like the sun,
To blind you.

Like an albatross
I criss then cross
Lines of red ink on me
And what's the cost?
I keep fighting,
But lost
And cut my right ear off
Like Evander Holyfield
Or Van Gogh,
An artist,
Now trust.
And me the curse
Who only gets worse
The more you get to know him.
Everything I do
Is a ******* sin.
And life is a pool
I can't jump in-
I can't swim
And then I sink
And think
Of those who can't swim too
In my ocean of negativity
And dying virtues.
These are my cues
To leave out
And choose
The ones who know what
I'm about
Before I lose
My sanity to clout
And pick a fool
Like me.
A maniac and insomniac
And freak show
To be.

Cruella de Ville
Is a devil,
And still,
I am dishevelled.
So maybe I’m evil
With atomic bombs
Of explosive excited
Anger.
And pain.
And fading away
Everything that I saved-
All my intelligence
That once stayed
Is going to lay
Around and waste.
I am dumb for this
I put up with this
I am a curse-
So feel my poisonous kiss
And become tainted too.
I am evil-
So don’t let the evil get to you.

I'm addicted to
The drug called happiness.
A simple addict
Of fantastic phantasm fantasy,
In ecstacy.

I always heard that things peak.
What goes up, must come down.
Am I at my come down?

Why can I not forever feel
This happiness?
Will I wade in the shallow
Ocean soon?

Can things just only keep getting better?
These days I glow
In a radiant beauty
And I have never seen myself
Glow before.

Is this feeling just the now?
As I become a ***** to the
Good feelings that my life
Is suddenly bringing me.

I like to think that my life
Is paying me back with good luck
For all the times I missed a four leaf clover
Growing in a meadow
Or didn't glance at a shooting star long enough to wish.
And this time I don't need a good luck charm,
Or a wish.

But now I come to.
Is this my peak?
Is this as good as things will ever be?
What we built upon could fall,
And I grow afraid of tomorrow.

2018 brought me growth,
2019 brought me happiness and stability.
Oh, curse this new year bringing me fear
Because chasing after a stillborn dream
Is beyond my ability.

This dream, I never want to wake up.
There is a person I love.
A family I built.
An internal balance I perfected.

Would life be cruel to rip that away?
But worst of all,
I could never prepare for that
Because that's how life is.

I became happy gradually,
Without noticing the changes
Because becoming stable and feeling loved
Became my normal.
So, will I never notice what I will lose?
Can that hurt me more than noticing at all
And trying to stop it
At a demise?

Am I really unproductive?
I guess so
So maybe that’s why
I eventually become boring
And annoying to people.
Because as amazing and creative as I could be
I am still unmoving and unwilling to change.
And I am not productive,
So I know I won’t do anything in the end.
Oh, so that’s why they all leave.
It is a reflection of me,
A mirror on everyone else’s face,
A gaze into everyone else’s eye
And then I see
What they see of me,
And what I am is a
Boring,
Lazy,
Crazy,
Kind of guy.
So that’s why they leave.

Who have I become recently?
A person who subjectively
Falls apart,
Or has objectivity
Become a lost art?
I am unable
To make moves
And to get better
On my own.
And people know this.
So I have faked this
False happiness
Long enough.
Let’s going back to crying
And suicide
And wanting to die
Because it seems like
That’s what I’m good at most anyways.

The wind cries Mona
And carries her to me.
Because -
Sometimes I think
This love
Is as pure as can be.
But it can be superficial
Or fake
Or for goodness sake
Please let me get my
Mind straight.

Hold me so close
That we feel the static
Between us.
Love me so hard
That the weight could **** me.

I can attack you with a thousand hugs
Kisses
And Compliments.
I can also attack you
With coldness
Silence
Explosive anger
And tears of anguish.
Which one will you be?

Why do we wrap ourselves
In the light of others?
Like a drape
We are giving
To one
Another.
As if they can
Shield you from your own
Self-hatred.
But all they can give you
Is loose compliments
And kind sentiments.
You were shrouded in your
Own light,
Long before they came.
You'll be still as bright
When they leave.

I don’t want to be asked if I’m ok.
I don’t want to be addressed when I’m upset.
Just leave me alone-
And hope to not let the world see how much
Of a freak
I really feel I am.
Sorry if it puts the
Circus out of business.

Hearts break so fast
Like shatter-proof glass
With no pieces left
To salvage
And put back together.

A failed boy,
Like a broken toy.
You snap the limbs,
And neck -
Oh joy.
Wondrous pain
And glorious disdain
From all the things around him
And what he'll never feel again -
What is happiness?
Besides a word
An unrequited sentiment
And statement
Of what he might be led to.
A shame -
But notice,
Change,
And rearrange.
Seeing his life
And plans
Fleet from him,
Burning in a flame
Of anxiety,
Depression,
Borderline personality
Episodes
And impulsive
Compulsive
Behaviors like choke holds.
Let go.
And box up the thoughts,
Put them on a shelf
Next to the forget-me-nots.
Because maybe he can rebound,
And unbound
From the chains
Holding him down
Like being pinned to the ground
He broke through,
Blasted of - shoot.
Like a rocket.
He is growing now,
Or maybe not.
But he can,
Somehow.

I think I'll live 'til I'm 50
If I'm lucky
Strivin'
Survivin'
Man, this life is sucky.
Think I'll live 'til I'm 50
Getting thrifty
Nifty,
Tryin' to get out swiftly
Failed to execute
The time absolute
To be the better one
When I left you-
When I left home
And now I'm grown
With an identity unknown.
Think I'll live 'til I'm 50
Reminiscin' the times when
We would get shwifty,
And now I'm just waiting
For some to lift me
**** me
Whip me-
Maybe that person needs to be me.
Due to the nicotine
And LSD
And DMT
And other things
Ruining my psychology
I'm lost,
Running around like a boy
Only leading to a criss cross
And zig zags,
I miss the life
And prospects I once had.
If I'm lucky,
I'll live 'til I'm at most 50.

I looked the devil in the eyes
Last night.
His eyes looked a lot like mine.
I saw that they shimmered,
And shined,
In the inner
Sanctum of constant
Compliments and regards from
Kind kin.
But the devil is in me.
Angry-
I am angry.
Mad-
I am mad.
Glad,
The Hell is that?
A devil in me,
Selling my soul
For something I wanted to be.
I am owned-
Ignoring friends on my phone-
Now throw me, the bad dog,
A bone.
And watch him never come back.
My horns stick out
And cut my wrists like thorns.
Abore,
Abhor
Those who stay a float
And find their way to shore
To a heaven greater than mine,
Keeping you all in my mind
Trust me, I will be fine
Even if the devil’s soul
Turns out to be mine.
And maybe it should
Or maybe I could,
Be good
And greater
Than what the baphomet
Has set for me aside.
My future,
My life,
Might be a hero or a god
This time.

They say
Depression and obsession
Don't mix well.
I'll see that day.
In a way,
We scar up our hearts
Like cutting veins
And talking insane.
An insanity calamity
Of the mind.
But I sighed,
And said
"I'm fine"
Instead.
"Today was a great day"
But I'll soon be dead -
I swear -
With poison in my head.

Emotional droughts
And bouts
Of tear-storms
Wash the sand
Like waves at high-tide.
But this time,
I have a boat
To traverse a
Moat
That I cry.

And in the winter
Of my life,
The dove called
"Hope"
Flashes its radiant ravishing, refined wings
Reluctantly.
And I know that
My spring is near
Because Hope is here.

We lay in the tide pools
And ponder over future.
Pools made from sweat
Blood
And tears
We built a sand castle
Out of our fears.
I thought I'd be safe in there,
Our little castle -
With a fortitude so great.
Maybe,
I was naive.
Maybe,
I was mistaken.
This love,
Just taken
For granted.
Abandoned.
I am the abandoned.
My castle fell,
And I have no sand
Left to fix it.
Somber,
I want to feel somber.
And be lonely,
And slightly melancholy.
Oh sweet trees
And summer breeze,
Bring my princess back to me.
Our Persian rugs
Have become tattered
And worn,
Torn - even.
Splitting,
Now scheming.
Our tide pool dries
And there is no more oasis,
Paradise.
A desert,
Deserted and accused,
My own words,
Turned to abused.
Bruised knees
From kneeling on the hard, dry ground
Staring at our building site.
I lost it,
My might,
No longer mighty.
Courage collapsing carefully over contemplation of our once gold crested contraption.
Our castle fell,
And so do my arms
In defeat.

Why am I here?
Oh God I shouldn't be here
Oh god I should disappear
Oh God why did I reapper
Oh god don't let me get close
Oh **** I won't get near
Oh God this is weird
Oh God let me leave
Oh God this place isn't for me.
Oh **** no one is talking to me.
It's because I'm crazy
And that they don't like me.
What is going on with me?

Sunsets over the horizon dip,
And you're just another person
Who will slip
Between my fingers
Like sap
In the cracks
of trees.
I too bleed,
The tears stain -
My own water,
Leaving me dessicant.
I have no vitality,
Just a shell, husk, of a man
While other happy faces surround me.

I'm s ******* scared
Of what tomorrow;
The next hour;
The next minute
Can bring.
I don't want to
Go through each day
With a constant fear and worry.
I'm not doing anything wrong
By living -
But I'm committing a crime
By existing.
I'm not good enough for you.
I can't keep myself together
Long enough
For us
To actually love each other.
I don't want to lose you
Before I've gotten the chance
To really enjoy you.

I'm already erasing myself
From you mental notes -
There was never anything
Notable about me anyways.

I'll carry on -
Just like you will too.
And eventually -
We both will be happy.

But,
Maybe you just won't be
Happy with me.

So, leave me
Like the soft breeze
On a hot
San Diego day.

I'll try to not miss you
As much as I miss the breeze.
But,
There are no guarantees -
Much less so,
Once you leave.

Witch hazel memories
Flood my conscious -
And I wish
I couldn't feel,
And be numb
Like astringent.

I got these
Stale wounds,
Cut open -
Mispoken -
Blood soaked in,
Subsume.
I don't feel
What's real
Again.
Slip by and just pass
Like a sail with no mast,
And you're trying to get past
The past
Because it hurts more
Now in the present.
My brain is more dead
And insane
To refrain
And reframe -
Just to end up more poor than a peasant.
I pleased myself,
Released myself.
Just lost the keys
To free myself.
Chained up,
And bound
By my beautiful face
That only keeps its frown.
And I want to die now
Here's a ******* countdown
To a new year,
Play it by my good ear
Sit here,
Right there,
And contemplate
The insurgent hate
I have for myself.
This is the depressive lock down.
Lose it.