Sacrifice yourself for the ones you love
for they will only stay long enough to see progress
and as soon as the shade becomes your eyesight
you cannot find anyone else here in the dark.
Everyone is too busy trying to find
that light that was once inside of you
but it's not there anymore-
it was burnt out but those who said they cared
when they were only harnessing that glow to use to their advantage
all in order to see things better
and now all you're left with is this darkness.
No windows with the sunrise to peek through
because no one seems to be able to see through you anymore.
No phone to use to guide you
because people stopped reaching out a long time ago
so you figured you no longer needed to hear the silence
that clings to you like dust
like dog hair on your black pants
and there's no lint roller strong enough to keep it off
so it stays and you keep looking at it
wishing you didn't get yourself into this mess
but at the time it seemed like such a good idea.

You break once because of someone
they will break you again
and this is the one thing life has taught me.
People will hurt you-
they will lead you in with intentions of change
and then proceed to ask you for some money
because they know the change was never there in the first place.
I wish you still didn't owe me money
and I am picking pieces of myself to give to you
in hopes you will see how much of me you've torn apart.
I'm standing here with my heart in my hand again-
looking at myself in the mirror
wondering why I so badly want everything to end
wondering why it always comes back to this
and the cycle keeps continuing until I am nothing.
I guess we are doomed to repeat our past
because this feels a lot like when I was a kid
and I had to pass out or fake sick for attention
but I don't have to fake these things anymore-
they happen to me now anyway
and I guess this is just my sick twisted fate.
Karma came back around and now she's looking for a fight
she's already won round one
I guess she's looking for the belt.
Take it-
it will only end up around my neck anyway.

People like me strive for stability.
The kind of person that can be-
the calm before the storm
because I am a hurricane.
Name all your destruction after me
and remind yourself why you love it so much
as soon as it leaves
and you are left cleaning up the mess it made
inside your chest and ingrained inside your mind.
These letters I paint across a page
are just empty broken homes
and chaos amongst your feet-
so walk with me.

Run-
but only if you think you can endure such a thing
remember only someone special can keep up with me
I'm not too good at the chase
so you'll have to be prepared for when I don't follow.
I'm not one to keep things against their will
and if you do not want to keep me
I will not fight for your grasp around my throat-
let me go.
Wake when the chaos ends-
hope that every memory you grew old with
isn't washed away in the rubble
and remember to make room to rebuild
because I will make a mess of you
no matter how badly I would like to make you beautiful
and re-piece together your brokenness-
I have too much work to do on this home.
On the home I made out of my body a long time ago
and etched everyone who's ever hurt me
on the front porch like my address
they contribute to the broken parts of me
they've all taken a part of the blueprint
and I can't fill in what was there
because I honestly don't remember
that was way too long ago
and I am still searching for someone
who will remind me of what I have lost.

I think I can stop looking now-
I think I have found the things I'm looking for
and they were never inside of someone else
they were inside these line I write
where nothing can turn to something
in a matter of seconds.
Where these teeth stay clenched
and these fingers are always moving.
These things inside of me were never actually lost
they weren't stolen or taken away from me-
I guess they were just misplaced.

I am walking a tightrope
that I am continuously falling from-
my feet try to move but I see no balance.
Gravity and I have never really been friends
too busy falling, never keeping my feet on the ground.
So I walk-
jigsaw puzzle for my feet below and head above.
I try to conjure what it would look like
if I did in fact make it to the other side.
But I realize that's another part of me
I will never get to face
because my body will not ever let me-
my fear overpowers my skill
and I cannot hold on any longer
not with these two feet I own
or these two hands
too busy trying to hold up everyone else
long enough to make sure they're back on their feet.

I'm tired of not being in control
so as these emotions become too strong
and I become too weak
falling to my imminent destruction becomes routine.
Consistently pushing away anyone who tries to help
and any chance I get at happiness
I make sure it never ceases to exist again.
Control was never in my nature
so anger consumes me when I am the lesser
when the animosity takes over-
there is no coming back for me.
My mind goes blank
the only words I can spell out for myself
are regret, so this pen bleeds ink
just so I will remember these words
cannot be erased from someone else's mind
that these episodes will constantly become re-runs.
I'm getting so ******* tired of this show already-
always wanting to turn off the tv or change the channel
but I can't afford cable
this is the only show that isn't static in my ears
the only show worth watching.
Sometimes, I wish it would get cancelled
and fade away from the listings
so I don't have to see it anymore.
But the episode gets played over
I still cry at the sight of them-
I still let the plot lines dictate my emotions.

Control has never been something I was good at
but somehow this tightrope I walk
has become such an occupation
as if people are waiting for me to fall from it.
I walk steady now-
awaiting the moment I fall
I worry when I stick out my neck
for those watching my downfall
that this tightrope will become just a noose
and this show will turn into the news
reporting on what I could've done better-
repeating my mistakes like re-runs.
Time has been nagging at my feet again
I guess it wants to speed up my downfall.

It's kind of a sick twisted fate-
when someone turns out to be everything
you have found in someone else
but you also collectively hate.
It turns your mind into a constant state of confusion.
This obsolesce was never planned
and I never planned to dislike you as much as I do now.
How does one go from appreciating the very core of a person
to dissecting and disliking every part?
I'd like to think it's second nature
and the second you become who you've always been
when the mask was ripped off and I saw you
I realized I had been trapped behind a wall
of disillusionment in hopes to fix
what will always look so much better broken.
You are a mere child amongst men-
constantly desiring something so out of reach
always trying to get what you want
until it is within your reach
and you realize you don't know how to keep it
you're not very good at keeping track of time
and everything you say has to be depicted
like a novel of truth you are telling
when you use your words with such a dishonesty
that it's honestly laughable.
You have not made sense on more occasions
than you have.
Your words are your muse
your security blanket
when in reality, most of the time
they are fleeing from your lips
and they are used in the complete wrong context.
I'm glad I could help you be okay
I never asked for any help from you
so I wasn't surprised when I never got it.
Always trying to mend brokenness
so maybe I will feel whole,
when in the end I just feel like an *******.
But you are actually the *******-
and I should've trusted myself about you.
Should've reminded myself that nothing is within your reach
because your arms are carrying too much insecurity
to even try to hold someone else's hand.
But ******* you're trying-
and you have been
just not with me and I'm glad
because I found something now
so ******* special to me.
So thank you for not giving me what I truly deserved
because it showed me neither are you.
It showed me I was better than what you gave
and you said you cared but I never saw it.
Never felt these things you said you did.
I'm glad this sick twisted fate
worked out into my favor
because I can never imagine being with someone like you.
With a mind a bit too free and a demeanor
a bit too conflicted about **** near everything.
Learn to walk-
realize I did a long time ago
and I'm surprised I didn't sooner.
Maybe these steps will lead you
to where you think you need to be
Until then-
watch as I learned to dance
when you're still just crawling
one day, it will be back to me
by then I hope you'll be running.

I wait for the dust to settle-
it has stirred up into my lungs
and made a mess out of my ribcage.
I'm having trouble speaking
awaiting a breathe of fresh air to enter my lungs
but it never does
awaiting a clear thought to enter my head
but it never comes.
Time is the biggest contender
I wish this was me coming clean
you'll need more than just
a one-man crew to fix this mess.
But I don't want to be fixed
you cannot keep
what doesn't wished to be kept
and you should not fix
what works better broken.
Constantly on the brink
of being beyond repair
but nothing stays new forever
and shoes look better worn.
So walk with me
let no space enter between us
because I can't handle anymore dust
please don't go-
it will collect when you leave.
I'm only trying to empty myself out
so I can breathe again.
I choke on these words
they're all I have anymore
I spill them onto a page
and watch as they are taken away.
Passion isn't as prominent
when insecurity likes to bottle it
I'm having trouble convincing myself
to believe in anything anymore.
Trust is a four-way intersection
and no one seems to want to go.

When the internet became prevalent
I was enthralled by it-
curious as to what life had to offer
and how everything fit into one box
a ****-load of information in one place
a journey to discovery I never had before
except in books and news stories.
I always stayed up late on my dad's computer
tower below me-
humming, humming as I swayed feet
dangling from the computer chair
I was just a small child.
Age 8-
browsing something called a history
it showed me everything my father did.
I wanted him to be proud of me
so I tried to mock his interests
until I found his ****.
"BIG ***** BLONDES"
"*** GUZZLING *****"
My eyes widened-
I was going to throw up.
I regurgitated the anxiety of my life
onto the computer screen
I became entranced by discovery of the fuckery
keeping tabs on the tabs he had opened.
Age 10-
found my dad was on a dating website for hookups
found his ***** emails to other women
and more ****-
that he paid for.
Building up ammo to throw in his face
until I was awake middle of the night
saw it right in front of mine.
Looking out my bedroom window
two ****** in the hot-tub
one on either side of my mother's husband-
all naked.
I shut my eyes and walked away.
Laid in bed and thought about how
my mother was asleep in the next room.
I would like to think this is the reason for my trust issues.
Why social media scares the **** out of me
because this day and age there's consistent
access to the fuckery-
a window of opportunities.  

My first boyfriend would never let me see his phone
I didn't really want to
but every time I got near it
maybe to check the time
or hand it to him when it rang
he got nervous-
conflicted and anxious.
Tore it away from my hands on multiple occasions
never thought twice,
just thought he was protective of privacy.
He was cheating on me-
with my best friend.
How cliche.

Age I don't know 16.
Met a boy who liked the same music as me-
made me laugh every time we spoke
and I felt like I could finally be myself
but he was inconsistent-
a mind-**** and would go weeks without talking to me.
Then he would treat me like I was his
and invite me out with his friends.
Drunken nights turned to early mornings
leaving and him never texting,
never calling.
It ****** with my mind
I was left confused as he flirted with other girls
on Myspace, then Facebook.
He told me liked me-
I told him I felt the same.
He got drunk-
****** someone else behind my back.
Found out from his friends.
Burnt the **** of his he left at my house.
Always inconsistent.

I had never been anyone's
they always leave when the title becomes me
or they always end up leaving me for another.
I'd like to think that's where my insecurity lies.
Never really been the kind of girl guys like to date-
afraid of commitment even after spending a year with someone
He ****** me-
over, up and good.
He broke my heart too-
didn't even leave me for someone else
he left me to become someone else
so I stood waiting to become something someone enjoyed.
It happened.
Found inconsistency again-
he also liked the same music as me
I'm starting to think that's not such a good thing.
But he showed me I needed to stop thinking so much-
stop looking too into things
and just be myself.
Anxiety wasn't a factor for me with him
only jealousy.
I didn't have to work so hard.
All that really mattered to me was me-
but the inconsistency was too much.
My inconsistency was too much.
Now I am never enough.
I'd like to blame my insecurities on all of that.
Shout at my father in the face and tell him he ruined me
found love only once and it tore me apart.
I'm trying to mend that again-
find it, harness it and be okay with it like I was once.
I'm scared to death I'll never find it again
scared to death of everyone else but myself.
I'm afraid of my own shadow again
because it reminds me of what I have lost.

My reality is ephemeral-
I have trouble comprehending
what's actually real anymore.
My thoughts play too into what is in front of me
and I misconstrue almost every instance.
I am capricious and conflicted at all times-
never knowing my wrongs from my rights
never really feeling entitled to what I feel.
So I feel like my feelings are never valid
does that mean my invalidation is invalid?
Conflicted.
Constantly.
So I count the only things I know for sure.

1)  My mother gets headaches, migraines actually. Everyday-
doctors visits followed by phone calls which say "You're fine" but from what I see she is not fine. She drinks her soda and smokes her cigs. Finds her only peace of mind in this piece of mine. Mary is her friend.

2) My Dad gets pains in his hands to where he can't write some days. He loses feelings in them on occasion. He coughs for a half an hour every morning spitting up the mucus that lines his lungs. He drinks coffee and then goes for a cigarette. He drinks his beer and finds solitude in an alcohol content higher than my gpa. I start to wonder what's more important to him.

3) My brother works hard, he's lazy on some days but puts in effort where it really matters. He drinks his makers and tries to drown out whatever he feels the need to. He grows things to remind himself he can. He is a lot like my father.

4) I have a 3.4 gpa currently, I am bipolar type II. Most days I have at least two anxiety attacks, one if I get really lucky. I wake up everyday feeling sick. I have endometriosis. I was molested, twice. I am currently still trying to repair the love that was ripped from me like my heart was being taken to the black market for some pocket change. I drink my coffee, and drown my sorrows in blank pages and bury them into my therapists couch on wednesdays. I never satisfied with the affirmation I receive. I find solitude in dark corners. I am at war with myself..

I would like to turn this around-
flip the script and make something happy out of this.
But reality is not happy-
reality is nothing but perception.
Your reality can be happy
if you turn a blind eye to the destruction
or just appreciation that it breeds creation.
Always question.
Never settle.
Remember the things to which are true.

1) The grass is green, but not everyone sees the same shade.

2) Rain is necessary for growth, but it can also ****.

3) Technology is rapidly advancing faster than we can learn about it.

4) Poetry is the greatest magic trick we can hope to know, seeming one way but appearing another to every single individual who comes across it. Poetry is the biggest con artist and the best therapist. It is lined with metaphors and double entendres, it sits in stanzas and hopes to be read.

This is the end of the poem
and I have trouble feeling okay
with how things have been mapped out for me
aligned by the universe in one shape or form
we are all just shapes and forms
and we're constantly waiting in line-
filling out forms
in hopes of filling our voids
by doing a line of some sort
until our check voids
and the cycle continues.
Maybe that's why I see myself
whenever I look into the washer.
Longing to be washed away-
ring me out, hang me up
I want to feel like I am able to be worn.