I trust that these hands will break-
that the crevice of your smile
will turn into a crack upon the impact
of my lips upon your cheeks
but do not cry.
For the only mark I have left in your life
is that of a scar.
Never the girl you marry,
only the one you admire
and aspire to one day acquire
but ambiance is a con artist
the way the room feels good and warm
doesn't mean there hasn't been tragedy there.
I am too hung up, to be so rung out to dry
and I hate this feeling that has been given to me.
The wind had sought my insides
and everything is a mess now.
Don't put a label on me
for that will only taint the way things are now
never deserving of more than the shadows
never in the spotlight long enough to be seen.
You are ever-changing and I am in need of consistency.
But I am no hero of this novella
this short-winded fiction novel
you write upon your lips as if it is just letters on a page
but to me, this is non-fiction
to me, this is everyday.
You wear this mask like it is a coat of armor
but I have hung it up once again
and you don't like that you see yourself in me.
Hurt is the only thing I seem to know
and they all run the other direction
when the walls come down
and my true colors are painted out instead
they realize the setting is different now-
the ambiance isn't what it was before
and this novel just had an uncharacteristic plot twist.
Now you have trouble predicting the outcome
you think too much, and don't feel enough
and that's been my entire life.
No longer the girl you put a ring upon-
just one you put a bet upon and hope you don't lose
and when you win, once you see how good it feels
you run fast in the other direction because of the obligation.
Intimidation tactics are found in the dark circles under my eyes
and trouble is etched in the curve of my smile-
I have yet to find someone who dies to keep me,
one who realizes I am a novel worth reading.
But I am only worth a few pages before they have had enough of me.
They try and try to rewrite what's inside-
but you can't taint print on paperbound.

nothing makes these feelings hurt worse
than not acknowledging they're here.
Alone again like it is every weekend
and you speak to the scars on your wrists-
tell them to go away.
But they just end up appearing somewhere else
I'm tired of feelings.
I long for the ability to feel nothing
so I could harness what it takes be okay
and use it to my advantage
so success would be just a nod away.
Instead I am nodding off because of these pills in my hand
and this head on my shoulders-
it's been almost 9 hours since my last meal
and I can taste the acid in my stomach
demanding refuge-
it, like me is tired of being left alone.
I am here-
sitting upon this mattress broken bones
and broken mind.
Trying to think of ways to put a cast upon it
so I can stop thinking so backwards
to start writing for the future
but these hands don't know time.
It is nothing but figment to this poetry.
I wished it still helped me-
I wish standing upon a stage
or tapping at these keys was still worth something.
But these words have become devalued to me now.
Too many to count-
it's an inflation of my current insanity
so nothing is of importance anymore
we're all carrying around words like they're nothing
building monuments and meaning out of virtue-
wishing upon stars we could build homes
out of these stanzas.
But the economy *****-
turns out so does this poem.

We were always tripping on ways to make it out.
Long winding roads to backwards homes,
we never took too long.
I had a way with words
but not with speaking them too clearly-
I could only write them too be understood.
I was a little too passive aggressive and not enough passive voice-
Built upon analogies, not using enough antonyms.
Too much consonance and not enough consistency.
Always too dynamic for this static world.
We drove each other crazy.
Took words and turned them into roads always intersecting.
We never thought to stop and look at the scenery.
I never thought to ask where we were going.
You told me buckle up and I always asked you why-
The answer never left your lips.
You just gave a smile that mimicked the skyline and I let you take me there.
To the back alley of your mind and watched you race past the speed limit.
You told me to put on my seatbelt.
But you never wore yours-

You drove me to edge of insanity and left me there alone.
You drove away and watched as I tried to run after you.
But you kept driving-
and I'm still running after you.
Tracing my footprints on the pavement
Trying to match the tire tracks
I keep running back.
Even though I know you're long gone.
Insanity is a destination
I didn't want to reach
but somehow I arrived here anyway.
Somehow you drove me to it.

My hands are in fists
and the red has been painted
across the cloth once again.
I broke more than just skin in this instance-
broke more than just the wall.
I can't remember stability
can't remember consistency
but how are you to remember the things
in which you've never really been subjected to.
Taking too much time trying to see myself in the light I need
and not enough trying to fix me.
Bandage upon these hands
no remembrance of how exactly
they got to this point in the first place.
Place me upon a crowd and I will flourish
but alone is a place I no longer want to reside
because I wither and fail and break.
I need the sun to grow
but I was thrown inside darkness.
Not even five hours ago
the top of the world was just a car ride away
but eventually the sun fades and so do I
eventually I am reminded the darkness
always seems to find me here.
Trapped inside this mind
that isn't too familiar with this facade.
Trapped inside this facade
too long now to know what I look like anymore.
Wishing third person was something I could switch to
just to be able to control who I am again.
She has been withered and worn
and she will not return.
Even if I could change things-
take myself out of this equation
there would still be problems to solve.
But I don't want to be that problem anymore-
because I don't think I have an answer.

my pills smell like a hospital
this bookstore smells like my grandma
the faint reminiscence of old memories
cloud the only five senses I own.
I start to wonder if this life is becoming idle
if this IV lining my arms is broken again.
If I have enough will to stay.
These pills smell like a hospital-
and I'm worried you will find me there someday
withered from this world I can't tolerate enough to stay.
But these pills seem to help me stay.
Remind me why I'm alive-
this smell reminds me to stay away.
When the blade calls my name I don't listen anymore
when you call my name I don't listen anymore
I've been seeing your face too often
and not hearing my own voice enough.
I start to think nostalgia and you share the same interests
like you both started a google drive document
and shared the file with me and now it's all I see.
You can edit my life for me
and no matter what I continue to write
you change the font
and reformulate my sentences.
I wish I didn't exist.
Then I smell my grandma in this empty bookstore
and feel the pages against my fingers again.
I'm here whether I like it or not.
You were here whether I like or not.
Paying too much attention to madness
and not enough to bliss
I take up too much time thinking
and not enough doing.
25mg isn't enough anymore
and each time the clock strikes 9
my mind likes to contemplate quitting you.
But I smell the hospital again
convince myself to stay away from that place.
The pill hits my tongue and travels down my throat.
I don't think anymore.
I don't want to know.
I am home-
here in this bookstore
with the smell faintly touching my nostril
with the pills lining my nose
with you writing me apology notes
that sound too **** familiar.
I wish to erase you from my retinas.
I don't want to see you anymore.
I hoped these pills would help-
but they make things more clear for me.
You're face has been all I see
now I seem to be losing me
where did I go?
where am I again?
why are you the only face I recognize?

Little control is had nowadays
and my head is the only thing moving.
The transient state of mind
leaves me motionless again.
Constantly trying to rid of these thoughts-
but the mocking in my eye reminds me they live.
The pangs in my chest remind me they mourn
and the pains in my head tell me they're here.
Waking is the hardest part
because you wished it a dream.
These steady hands and clear thoughts
were only for a short moment
before they were pinned to your neck again.
Taking something with you
that does not want to stay.
Fighting the refuge demanded in your chest
the way it itches it's way out
too much desire to be felt.
You can learn yourself well-
all too much can be an ache of the withdrawn
and you can teach yourself to be better.
That's what they tell me
behind soft words and vacant empathy
they try to convince me of this pain
try to learn it themselves and map ways through my mind
like it's a shortcut I've never really paid attention to.
But there are no secret pathways here
no ancient secrets of the unknown
Walking this cobble road has become
my sanctuary, I know it all too well.
Feed the lines in your head with the lies
they spill upon tv screens and convince me
over and over again that this hidden agenda
behind my eyelids is not masking some sort of pain.
They pray on the weak but that is not me
no I will not let them win they will not defeat me.
The jolting of my mind awakens me
coming to terms with my reality, I smile.
Knowing the only control I had were in dreams-
painting clarity on the background of each scenario.
It seems I have awakened. It seems I can be in control.
Only for a moment. Only with my eyes closed.