I fear closeness.
I fear close knit and tongue tied
I fear you and I.
these days I think myself
into a coma more often times
than I am actually awake.
The thought of mere interaction
shakes me to the core
and I don't want to find myself anymore
because I'm terrified of who exactly I'll meet.

I am hanging at the edge of your lips again-
realizing what it is I have made you feel
which is less than nothing, but also everything
which is eggshells and self-preservation
and a mindset that is filtered when I am around.
I would like to know you too-
but I am afraid we will not connect
as good as we did once.
I often find myself missing where we were
even if it was disoriented, at least it had a name.

Often I fear I am too much-
too dysfunctional, too erratic
to ever find love the way I would like.
Looking into the mirror
the reflection I see reminds me I am something.
Here. Present.
That if I try hard enough I can get to where I need to be
and the sun is shining and my mind is free again.
Until the moment comes to where I am low
and I try to look at myself in the mirror
tell myself I am something- Here. Present.
but all I seem to see are the tears
and the smeared makeup-
all I seem to see
is the past that keeps repeating in my mind
the memories that my retinas like to replay.
I guess I'm not over it.

I would like to marry someday-
have kids and show them love,
show them happiness can exist
and that marriage isn't a death sentence
that love is not just a word
that it is everything.
But I find myself sitting here
on the bathroom floor
waiting for the shower water to warm
just the way I like it
and I'm afraid that's how my life will always be
waiting for things to be consistent
and manageable
just the way I like them.

But then I feel the water and it's cold-
someone used up all the hot water again
or maybe there's no propane.
Either way I'm cold,
either way I'm cold.

I really ****** myself up this time-
blood dripping into the palms of my hands
I started laughing through my tears
couldn't wipe them away
too busy trying to stop the bleeding
this broken heart has made scars again Mom-
but everyone around me is too busy to notice
or maybe I've just gotten better at hiding them-
hiding them behind this smile I like to paint
but see I never thought I was a good enough artist
the silence and the solitude like to tell a different story.
I turn the page,
watch as the silhouette of the last
makes it hard to read in between the lines-
too many pages of me have been unturned
too many chapters that go unread
there's a lot more to me than just a synopsis of this facade.
I click my tongue-
I make touch each one of my fingernails
Seems I am here, cognitive.
But from the view out of my retinas
all I see is blurred vision
a skewed understanding no glasses could fix
my far-sightedness in people has made me blind
there is no side to this story that can be unseen
expose of me, decompose with me.
I would like to waste away with you
but my views are too backwards
and it seems I am lost once again.
Reality makes me feel less real than dreaming nowadays
everything feels like such a dream
but most of the time it's just a nightmare.
I sit back and wish to drink this ***
the kind that's red and has little danny speaking tongues-
this lightbulb burnt out,
the hallways are lined with red
and nothing is shinning anymore
it's no longer a diamond
it's just all Kubrick zirconium.
watch me like your favorite novel
read me like your favorite movie-
never let me disappoint
but someday soon you'll get tired
and you'll pick something else
to fill the void of convincing yourself you like change
but nothing feels as good-
and the cycle repeats.
I would like someone to never tire of me
but these eyes have made way for more tragedy
and the bags under them make way for travel.
I will paint a smile upon my face,
tie a t-shirt around the open wound
so I can maybe stop the bleeding
and I'll pick up this part of me
place it upon my shoulder right where there's a chip-
because that's where it fits
that's where my heart is.

I'm waiting in the Starbucks line-
Homework due in an hour.
I realize my clothes don't match.
I also realize this is a lot like
what love feels like.
A letdown.
A constant urgency.
Insecurity that a deadline will not be made.
Making small stupid decisions based on your addictions.
Then the coffee I sip tastes like ****
all because the line to get it was super long-
too much ice and not enough coffee.
I drink it too fast and it makes me sick-
I'm thinking it was because of the pills
not so much the coffee this time.
And I continue to think about love.
How I never want to take that many pills again.
How I never want to play tic tac toe
with every negative emotion I have
I don't think I ever want to find love again.
Because this type of destruction should not happen more than once-
but to me, it's happened more than that.
Even the worst things in history are often repeated.
That's what being in love with you feels like-
A used history book too worn and used
to even show any inherent value-
But you love history and what it has to offer.
So you tape back the broken spine
in hopes of salvaging what you love so much.
But it's never enough to make it readable
it's never enough to use for notes later on
or to read your favorite chapter
and all you can think about is how wonderful it once was.
When you were pulling back each page
so filled with joy about what the next had to offer.
You had a lot to offer-
but all you saw was your broken spine
and torn apart pages.
I wrote my name inside the front cover
etched in pen so everyone would know it was mine-
but I guess my name faded and now it's all just smeared ink
you can't even spell out what it says anymore
maybe because I lost myself inside of you.
I'm again looking at how my clothes don't match
and how much time I took to put this outfit on
but the lighting in my room is dim
and when the actual sunlight shows more things
than the darkness of faded counterfeit wattage
you start to see the things you're missing-
like yourself.
You would like to send someone out to find you
maybe your parents or your friends
but they're all too busy in their own lives
so you look for yourself-
by yourself
and you wonder how you got this way.
How two nights ago you happen to be the same person
you were six years ago-
even the worst things in history are often repeated.
I'm starting to think taking this medicine
wasn't such a good idea.
But the only reason I did it in the first place
was because of how crazy I felt with you.
I didn't want to be crazy anymore-
I wanted love to work for once.
I guess you can't teach yourself something you've never seen
like how I taught myself to swim by watching my brother
and I taught myself how to tie my shoes watching spongebob.
No one ever showed me love-
no one ever put on that play for my young eyes to see
so now I'm searching and searching for something
when I don't even know what the **** I'm looking for.
I think I would rather look for myself instead-
I'm sure I never want to look for love again
but what happens when I try to love myself?
How can you achieve something so foreign?
God could be a fat, black, lesbian jew
and how would we know, we've never actually seen God..
That's kind of how I feel about love.
It could be a giant hurricane destroying everything
because that's the only love I've ever known.
I can read about it until my eyes are heavy-
I can watch it in movies until makeup is stained on my cheeks
but none of it ever means anything to me
in a world where I never mean anything to you.
Love is kind of like starbucks-
it's convenient because it's everywhere
and everyone is waiting in line to get a taste
most of the time it's not what you expected
and it's usually just bitter-
but sometimes you get lucky
and everything is sweet-
the way you wanted it to be
until it's empty.
I am empty.

I've wanted to die since I was Seven-
see everyone always told me things would get better
that as time passes so would the hurt.
But it's now 13 years later
and the hurt is still present.
Still painted across my face
like this smile I wear
to show everyone how ******* good
I am at faking it.
My whole life has been a fiction novel at my lips-
the happiness has always been just a white lie.
If time heals all wounds
why am I still in so much pain?

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.