I am on the receiving end
of an emotional hierarchy
on the power dynamic of control
and it is based at the core foundation
of my childhood
rooted inside the deep seeded
fear of isolation and abuse.
I have come a long way since then.

Since the corner
of my shut closet
became a museum
for these guilt pangs
in my 7 year old stomach.

But the shouts of my parents
still haven't diminished
and neither have these pangs.

A constant reminder
I am closer to my childhood
than I am my progress.

So I have to take a step away
from all of these things
putting me back into
that dark closet
into the Eminem show soundtrack
on the 6th grade bus
crying because I didn't feel loved.

I don't want to go back
to not eating for weeks
or showering for a month
just so I could get the attention.

I never had it anyway
so why was I fighting for the nonexistent?
why am I fighting, still now
for the constant validation
and acknowledgment of existence.

I am still closer to my childhood
than I am my progress
and I keep stepping back into
people, place and things that put me there.

every friend and boyfriend
reminding me of my father or my mother
and every minute of isolation reminding me
that there is no lesson that I haven't been taught
from loneliness and inadequacy.

So I should be thankful
I am closer to my childhood than my recovery
because that's where it started,
and for me-
that's where it ends.

Somewhere between the closet space
and basement walls-
I am buried there.

I'm crying on the inside..

seems like the only thing I can control as of late.
I blink both eyes until I see stars
and hope I will see something worthy of myself.

My breathing has slowed...

this anxiety in my chest makes me aware
of the damage it has caused me.
Fourteen years ago I made some progress
and then repression became a warm hand gun
I liked to sleep with at night.

Someone took advantage of me...

and now my mind likes to do the same-
knows I am weak in this instant
knows I can break more times than rebuild.
knows I will sit here and makes these same analogies
until everyone tires of my poetry.

I tried to think of things differently...

but all that comes out are the same words
just in different order
and it seems my mind likes to run circles
around this idea of normalcy.
it also seems like it doesn't exist
because just when I'm on the brink of sanity
my mind likes to remind why it's never ******* possible.

Seems I'm too ****** again...

the only words my vocabulary seems to remember
are the ones people deem as less intelligent
and I start to wonder if that can be defined
by the numbers in my bank account
or in my gpa this semester-
if so, i think I'm doing aright.
if not, which is the case-
I think i'm growing stupid.


Meet in the middle again...

somewhere between empty caskets
and getaway trains
I'm not sure which way I want to go.
My mind says get me out of here
and my feet won't stop running towards the exit.
Conflict and inconsistency are bred into my family,
my genetics are lined so neatly with tragedy.
Seems I am ****** either way.


Breed me into existence
and I will breathe you empty in this instance....


These words forms paragraphs
I do not know the meaning of
and I share this to make sense of it all.
I fall into the seems of myself
and no needle can trace the mistake I have made.
The giant hole inside of my track record
cannot be redone with sharp objects-
believe me, I've tried.


End me here before the road does it for me...

I'm feeling exhausted from lack of progress
and this feeling inside of me now has no origin
no originality- it's just sitting there.
Waiting for me to understand why it is.
But I can't.
I'm not even sure why I am here
these stories are an accurate representation
of my current state of mind
and I'm not even using any metaphors-
this is just the way my mind works now.


I bred myself into bipolar
and made anxiety out of my animosity.
I start to wonder how much better
I would've felt if I had some stability-
probably a lot less crazy,
but look at all this mess I've made
and look how good it makes me feel-
look at the difference it's made them feel.

Turn this repression into progression
and watch it flip to poetry,
feed me-
I'm dying to hear your words.

The ambivalence
   trickles down my throat,
I feel it settling
   inside of my stomach.
Indecision makes it's way into
   every part of me.

I'm whimpering
from the devastation.

Painstakingly
stagnant.

Taking the necessary
measure so I can breathe.

Still it sits
   like acid
   inside of my stomach.
Awaiting the moment
   I regurgitate it all back to you.

Memorizing the pain
like warning signs-
   sketchy shadows
   in a parking lot
so I kept my doors locked.
Turned the radio down
so I could prepare
for anything that would
make me afraid again.

You are the locked door
and the anxiety
of not remembering
if I took the right
precautions this time.

Maybe I didn't
check my rear view
    close enough
and I have no idea
a car has been
   following me for miles-
checking my progress
   watching as I switch lanes
   making sure I'm aware
   of the imminent threat
   it poses towards my future.

You are the stove
   I can't remember if I left on.
You are the straightener
   that burned a hole
   through my carpet.
I was unaware
   of the heat-
   or the consequences
I just wanted to feel full-
   to feel pretty.

I'm always looking backwards
   at the damage
   that has been made of me.
Seems I'm always
   looking over my shoulder
expecting for you
to be standing there
   reminding me why
   there is nothing left of me.
The pieces I have
taped together have
your initials outlined
in the remains.
   I can't rid of you-
Or the inhibition
  or the hindrance
left inside of my bones.
I am a weak, frail
   skeleton of a person.

Now I always,
keep my doors locked.

I wonder when the hurt will stop.
when this life that is forever fleeting
will become one with this heart that is constantly breaking
again and again and again.
I try not to care-
not to give **** about these feelings
that seem to take over my entire body.
Clinging to my throat in hopes
that I spill the things most sacred.
I want to be numb again
naive and grasping onto the oblivion
that was once my second nature
my proof of an angel in my wake.
No mistakes proved to be a disservice
because I didn't feel a ******* thing.  
I hope you realize you ******* ruined me-
at least you ruined who I was when I was with you
and as the exoskeleton of the girl
fades away into the background
who I am now grows stronger.
I realize that lying is your second nature
and being true isn't in anyone's agenda.
Only trust yourself-
because this life will make you drive drunk
and laugh when you get pulled over.
This life will invite you to the party
that no one really wants you at
and then watch as you sit around awkwardly.
They say time heals all wounds
but what happens when there's blood stains
on your new t-shirt from self-inflicted violence
but you still somehow wonder how it got there.
I am my own tragedy
but a masterpiece nonetheless
and the senseless emotions inside my head
all turn to stream of conscious in the end
I try to make sense of it all.
How I can never stay in one place too long
or even listen to a song all the way through-
**** what you heard.
I am the creator of my own destiny
and I have made mountains of these mistakes.
I will love harder than anyone you happen to know-
and if you seem to **** with that
I will ******* up harder than anyone on this earth
You can test me if you would like.
But these bones have spent so long breaking
that I will suffocate you with their ashes
and watch as my brokenness chokes you up-
makes a Tarantino scene out of your mistakes
and turns that **** into an episode of X-Files.
I am in the twilight zone again
wishing things wouldn't be so ******* different
every single time.
Wishing I could be real and sincere every second
but no one can seem to handle the things I feel.
They're not human enough-
not willing enough to feel emotion inside their bones
as much as I
so they wither beneath my facade
and hope to understand a fraction of me.
There is friction beneath my feet-
so watch as I go up in flames
watch everything I once was burn down
and watch who I am now rebuild.
Resurrection is an understatement-
Self-revolution is my only sanity.

The ache inside of my heart
has become an open wound.
Everyone is staring at me
like nothing seems to be wrong.
like I can patch it up
and all is well.

But all is not well,
it never has been
not since you left.

I start to think about the cruelty of life.
How I lost two best friends
in the course of a month
one by death
and one by the pain staking
ambivalence of makeshift love.

I feel so lost and alone.

Sleeping next to someone
who is hurting too
so it feels like my hurt is less.
Not for lack of effort
but because of the thoughts
that consume this distraught mind.

I think less of myself
than others
so everyone else needs time
and I just need to **** it up.
Move on,
other people need you
more than you could ever need them

Straighten up,
strengthen that backbone
and don't let yourself wither away
inside the arms of tragedy.
This isn't what she would have wanted.

Don't give him the satisfaction
of knowing he has won
knowing he has made a mockery
of all the potential love in your life.
His tongue digs a sharp wound
inside of your back
and you're having trouble standing upright again.

You feel it every time
you try to move in the right direction
because he always used to be there
watching your back to dig in deeper.

But he does not control you anymore-
do not let him crawl inside of your mind.
Start fresh.
Renew yourself.

You are in love again
with a boy that
slowly closes that
cut down your back.
He makes it feel
like it was never there in the first place-
but you still feel the sting sometimes.

He will caress your body
and make a wrong move
so you flinch at the progress you've made.
you clench and feel as the past
has infected your entire future
but it's all inside of your head.

You have healed,
let yourself do as such.

She would not want you
wasting your time
dreading her lack of existence.
She would want you to live
and love again and again.
She would tell you to
never think of the wound again-
stand up straight
put on heels
and walk like you own the night
because you do.

And now so does she,
and all of my days
are spent wishing she would have stayed-
but life is sick that way.
Taking away your chance at redemption
by making it impossible to speak.
Stitches around your mouth
and between your fingers
because talking seems to hurt too much
and reaching out has never been
something I was good at
and now I can't.

Too worried about everyone else.
Too worried about this life
that buries itself inside of this body
and demands refuge.

I've always put others before myself-
and this is just another textbook
collecting dust
telling everyone how to fix me
no one wants to read it.
No one cares to read it
so here I am
collecting dust
withering away
from the outside in.

No one pick me up-
I'm staring a collection.

I will never be yours-
not in the way I would like myself to be.
Repetition is etched inside my bones
but this isn't something I want you to repeat.
The erratic tendencies that have consumed us-
some days I wish you fearless
so nothing could matter and we could be one.
But the days blend together
and still I come with a question mark.
Labels are such a con artist
they never reveal the inside.
But neither do you-
always a mirror to others
letting their light reflect off of you
never really feeling your own.
If only we could connect-
just be for one minute more
but that is not the future I see here.
In my dreams are wishes you cannot grant me-
the one wish amongst all others
easiest to achieve, you still cannot grant me.
Why do I feel like such a black sheep to your love-
thrown to the side and hidden under covers.
I would really like to show the world
what you mean when you're inside of my arms
but it seems I cannot-
It seems I am always searching for that missing piece
of yourself inside of me, but I will never find it.
You seek it in imaginary facades and nostalgia.
You seek your happiness in time past
and things you do not even know are coming.
Stuck inside a future you don't see for yourself-
stuck inside words that others etch inside your skin.
I wish you would just give in to me
realizing this is something to you,
but this is nothing.
This was once something
but cannot be that again.
I am nothing-
to you
and now seemingly to myself.
I will rebuild from you-
the wreckage that broke me twice.

You broke me -
Shattered me to pieces.
Afterwards I was laying on the ground and you still somehow
made me feel sorry for you.
The feet you used to walk on my heart were now bleeding
and I was in even more pieces.

I tried to put myself back together
for you.
Heal the wounds
that are now just scars.
But I keep looking at them
Obsessing over how they got there.

I'm still in ******* pieces
And don't know how to put myself back together
You don't give a ****.
Because
You're better now.
I'm not.
But that doesn't matter
Because you can still see yourself
in the pieces I am now.
I still show you your reflection.

I stuck around for you.
Hoping you would help fix me
Hoping you would help me fix myself.
Instead you just stood there and watched me struggle.
Admiring your handy work.

I look at the world from a bird's eye view-
5 feet away from the edge again
and I keep walking close to it
convincing myself I'm not afraid of heights
Still I sit.
Wide eyes and looking through the bird's eye again
and I wonder when the sights I see
will turn into the beauty that I feel inside my mind.
I am mindless at best-
weeping in the tragedy at the feet I've walked with from day one.
The things that surround me formulate to the ambiance
and honesty has always been the first testament to my free will.
I feel as if the sights I see are set upon the sun again-
My eyes are burning from the dedication of trying
not to look at what gives me so much light inside my life,
what soaks inside my skin and gives me a less pale complexion.
My nature is never just stop and go
It's forever and it's fleeting.
I never seem to be in one place anymore
and the constant wheels inside my mind
are moving again and my tire has gone flat-
My head is on backwards again so the birds eye view
gives me a wide angle of my reality
my reality resembles the imagery I paint inside my mind
but lesser, lesser and forever depleted
as my feet move upon these stones leading me to my future
Normality isn't in my nature-
normality is only a perception created by the human mind
Dying one line at a time
Dying to be completely fine
I'm dying to lose my mind.

My palms become greased with worry and fatigue
that maybe this time you won't ever leave
but you eventually do-
and I'm sitting here wondering how the **** I got so exhausted?
How these hands have been gripping so tightly
to the bottom of my sweater
that they don't even feel like hands anymore.
I just wish you would ******* disappear
that this world could just exist without you
and these stages I have build out of my fears
did not become mountains for you to climb upon at will.
I'm tired of always looking over my shoulder-
worried that maybe you'll be there
and it's ****** up that I worry about that
because worrying is all you ever ******* did-
I just want to feel normal again.
I want to feel like this body isn't
the wreckage in Miley Cyrus' wrecking ball video
I want to be Miley ******* Cyrus
not the broken walls and concrete at her feet-
but you make me feel this way.
Make me feel like everything I will accomplish
everything I could potentially accomplish
isn't even worth it or even within my reach for that matter.
I got a 68 on my first test of this semester-
you took that score and ran it through my head
until my insecurities triumphed over
everything you caused me to say to myself.
I am done being a misplaced embodiment of past experiences-
I will not invite you out with me anymore
and when you beg and plead
and cause me to regurgitate my fears for you
I will push you to the side-
make a shrine out of who I have become
because it's not you anymore.


Dear Anxiety-
I'm done apologizing for who you turned me into.

Sincerely, You don't control me anymore.

When I was younger,
I always wondered why my mother was so easily scared
even at the slightest unexpected instance-
She jumped.
Jumped like her bones were no longer her home
and she was running away from the skin she was hiding in.
As I grew older she told me the tales of how
men had made her skin their throne
and took turns making her body their own-
bruised eyes became her routine
as the Xanax she didn't even realize she was being fed
filled her bloodstream, it became her heart-strings.
The heartache of many men filled my mothers eyes
and I realize now why stability isn't in her nature much.
So now as I enter a room I make sure these feet
hold steady on the ground to make a bold entrance
so she hears me coming every time.
I make sure these hands never grip hers too soon
so she knows I'll be there when she needs me too.
I still realize how she jumps when I forget
that her bones are still trying to rebuild themselves.
I still realize how her heart stops-
and how she went through hell to find the home in her own bones.
I still realize how even her own child
can make those bones feel like breaking again
as the paranoia of a troubled past sets in..
Even nowadays her bones will still sometimes shake at the sight of me-
I realize now, how it feels
to be a ghost.
And that's okay,
Because she believes in me-
Even on the days no one else does.

every waking moment is spent wondering
and anxiously awaiting another faulty moment-
another reason to write a poem
another reason to spill my guts.
I've always had such a way with words
except for when they were slipping
from my loose lips or trying to convince.
So for some inane reason I tend to fixate
on the reasons why my mind and heart
play tug of war with my nerves
leaving my body emotionless and numb.
More than often I am conflicted on approach-
So I succumb to the negativity that is my circumstance.
I was never one to play the victim
or dwell on the things of lesser importance
but it seems tragedy comes everyday
and sanity is far few in between.
I have tried to grip tightly on the idea of normalcy-
it just sounds like a good way to realize
that you're actually more broken than you know.
In some ways I am hoping that I will learn
why the tides of grief wash over me like the waves
or why the sands of time tend to turn me to dust.
But I am just one feather of a desert eagle
shooting holes through logic and mental stability
finding ways to undermine the melancholy
spending days searching for my sanity.

It took me one minute after you soaked your words into me
that I broke down and the only thing I could muster up
any amount of courage to say is "why me?".

It took me five days to give in again-
tracing your words like I trace the scars on my wrist
an outline of memory I cannot seem to let go of.
Try to picture myself with anyone else
but it just made me sick inside
so I started to compare you to everything I love.

It took me seven days to take your sorry and wrap it around my lips.
Standing there wondering why I feel so nostalgic
why this ache inside my chest feels so ******* familiar.
The first time we kissed began replaying inside of my mind-
the memories demanding to be heard
and the flashback played as our lips collided.

It took 730 days for you to get it right-
but one night, two separate times you ******* it all up.

It took me one week to act like they didn't happen.
It took all of my strength and I've become nothing but weak now.
Basking in mistakes and self-loathing,
animosity and admiration.
It seems imitation and repetition
are more related than we thought.
I'm having trouble wrapping my head around yours
why it took repeated mistakes for you to realize they exist
realize that a future with me exists.
See, repetition can sometimes be a good thing-
but not the kind that breaks me down
not the kind that tears me apart inside.

I do not want to break
because I do not think there is anything left of me.
This baggage was left on the plane a long time ago
and she watched as everyone took off-
time and time again everyone comes and then goes
no one comes looking for her anymore,
no one even realizes she's missing.

I fall sometimes-
and some days I can't get back up.
Clinging to the pangs in my stomach
left there because anxiety likes to remind me
she's still breathing-
Clinging to the knife in my side drawer
left there because I don't trust myself
and depression is right in my ear
telling me to do it again and again and again.
There's two devil's on my shoulder-
and no angel to be found.
I fall sometimes-
and end up making a home out of the ground.
Leave me here in pieces
I've always picked them up alone anyway.

I looked at myself in the mirror today
long and hard, I stared at my reflection in the glass-
and I realized if just enough sun hit where my eyes met
then I wouldn't see myself at all-
but I realized that wouldn't be any different
because the person staring back at me,
wasn't me at all.
I started to question when I forget myself,
lost who I was even though I was trying my hardest to look-
I guess I was never really good at hide and seek.  
Then one day I stopped in my tracks
and watched you pick apart
who I was in your eyes-
I had realized where I lost myself.
You told me I was bringing you down
held onto your leg like an anchor
I was your reason for drowning.
But I'd like to think I just kept you grounded.
See the smiles on my face keep getting replaced
by the opinions you paint across my eyes
and I realize this makeup isn't actually water proof
so you take this tragedy
and turn it into your own
destructive masterpiece upon my cheeks.
It was then I realized-
you were the one tying the anchor to your own ankle
and I was the one trying to help keep you afloat
but in all my efforts to keep you from drowning
it only brought us both closer to the bottom.
You look down on me because I am sinking,
I took the weight from your own ankle
and sunk to the bottom like I always had-
you reached out your hand to find me and got lost in the tide.
The whites of your eyes turn red,
and you blame me for your exhaustion
but you were the one who set sail
on this sea of expectations
and watched as I dangled upon a string I was born with
only to watch me fall from the grips of it
only to be torn between who I am and the nature of the sea.
I am no longer happy,
nor are you.
But time and time again, regret painted on your face
you tend to blame me for the weight-
when it was your idea to come out to sea in the first place.

The more people try to help me
The more it hurts.
Thought as if I was doing fine
Until everyone acted like
I was faced with a death.
I guess I was, am-
Plagued by the ruins
you left in my chest
And the more people try to help
The more it hurts.

No one knows you like I do-
So for them to make assumptions
they know nothing about
When I all want to do is defend you-
I guess all this time defending you
has become routine for me.

You took my heart and traded it in
For an older model
and I'll never understand why.
She has more miles and it seems
you ruined her too a long time ago.
But you keep hoping she will
give you what you need-
take you where you need to go
And I sit in an empty field
watching everyone drive by me.
Hoping that they stop looking at me
like I'm so broken and beyond repair-
Hoping that I can present myself
good enough to turn heads
Hoping the next time someone
tries to take a journey with me
I don't break down.
But here's to hoping
that maybe one hits me.
That way I won't have to find out.
That way I won't feel so ******* used.

My eyes glaze over again
I don’t remember who I am here.

Stuck dissecting the parts of myself
I should already be familiar with
But my own body is unknown territory.

My own mind is a place diluted
With good intentions
And outlined in animosity.

Who should I be in this moment?
Who am I to those who love me?
Seems only a luxury of chaos.
Seems only a burden of memory.

My neck is stuck out for all of them
But they cower in the corner of my problems.
And I have no way left to solve them.

I have nowhere to go but down it seems
And everyone just keeps ******* pushing me.

I’m tripping over boundaries as if they aren’t there
Because I do not know the correct place to set them.

Some days I can't think straight,
these words in my mind twist and they turn
until I'm trying to discover the bottom line.
Some days I can't think straight
and some days I think too much-
the words I speak hang on the edge of my tongue
awaiting someone to understand the intensity
of this overwhelming desire to speak my secrets.
Would you listen?
Listen as I sing from the rooftops my tragedy
and mask the brick walls
with the graffiti of my cloak-and-dagger heart.
This isn't closure, it never was for me.
The nights I spent alone and sobbing
have taught me more things
than any amount of advice can.
I have yet to be silenced,
because these words I write
and these poems I seek out
are the undisclosed reason for being.
I may have wanted to die many times
but there's a reason none of my poems rhyme
and it's because there's no rhyme or no reason to them.
They are stream of conscious
they are hanging on every word
until I have no more left in my obsolete mind.
Please don't test me.
I will be fine-
because I always end up that way.
One Poem At A Time.

you have felt the repercussions of love,
just as I have
but with more passion
than I could ever fathom.
heartbreak has molded you
into this person to whom I confide.

I know not about your past,
but I worry about our future
and if that heartbreak
is always on your mind,
even at times when I’m not.

The one who left you cold and broken
is the one to where my concern stems.
Unfinished business is meant to be completed,
but please don’t break me too.

Dissect me again
remind me I have a backbone
and insides that no one else sees.
Take away my ego,
and breathe life into me.
It was nice to know
what knowing felt like.
Too lacking control,
and not enough self-awareness.
Maybe that is where the cut line should start.
Right down the middle of me,
so every inch is exposed.
Seems you are staring down
who my insides have made me.
I am scared it was not what you pictured.
I am always scared that I am too much for people.
Most days, I'm too much for myself.

Stitch me up,
remind me I am okay the way I am.
Analyze me until
the self-awareness reaches my limbs
and I look in the mirror and see myself like I once used to.

You have a knack for making me feel things unknown-
tapped into a place inside I hadn't yet discovered.
Explore with me?

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.

Too many nights I lay awake,
staring at the marks upon my ceiling.
Seems these floor boards
have become headboards now
and I'm sleeping where I feel the most at home.

The victim screams again
trapped inside of these lines
everyone draws for her.
There is a box-
fit in it as much as you can
even if it's a tight squeeze.
We have no pity for you,
if it seems to be too small
just fit into it-
we all have to at some point.

This sympathy has become
a sinking ship to me
and ironically I've never seen the shore.
Drowning in the idea
salvation will reach my fingertips
and feel like grains of sand.

This sunshine I never seem to see
feels more like a dream,
a transfixed idea of melancholy
that is pressed against my hips
and I am feeling an ache in my spine.
Seems my backbone is being crushed too
I can't stand up even if I wanted to.
This box is locked and I am captive.
A prisoner of my own thoughts.

Jot this down-
remember yourself clearly
and all the scars painted upon yourself
every inch of bruising you have come across
a small reminder you have been here before.

These purple walls
have turned to a purple heart,
seems I've been drafted into war.
They drop these courtesy lies upon me
like they're bombs-
seems I am exploding again.
But if I do maybe I will get out of this box.
Maybe this ship will take me to the bottom
and I will feel the sand again.
Or maybe I'll see the sun-
when my back stands up straighter
and I can read my own words without cringing.
Maybe then I'll feel at home,
maybe then these bedsheets can replace floor boards
and the white of my ceiling won't be the only thing I see.


I tapped upon the transparency of myself
and seen a unrecognizable face staring back at me.
She nods her head and tells me it's okay
she is me, wrecked and scared-
with faith etch inside of her eyelids.
but why is she someone I don't know
an empty street corner of a place never been
wide eyed and painted on smile-
wish that I could know her.
Wish that I could be as good
at painting on this canvas
that is my body-
See I was never really good at art.

I imagine murals painted on this ceiling-
and my back hurts from laying here for so long
I hope to see the backs of my eyelids soon
because black would be better than nothing-
black would be better than transfixion
until delusion-
white canvas, white pills, white ceiling-
how can anyone love anything so void of color.

It seems that no matter how much *******
you pump into your body to try and hide the pain
it never goes away.
The pain learns to adapt-
it will find its way through again.
You can hide it with scars
and bottles and pills
but it will always find it's way through
it will hurt much worse when it does
because it's mad you tried to **** it.
The only way to **** it is get to know it-
it strives off ambiguity
and lives on your tragedy
don't let it fester.
Get to know yourself,
it's the only way to rid of the pain.
If you end yourself it wins.
I'm trying not to let it win.

Courage is a too way mirror-
you act a certain way when people aren't looking
when often times you don't realize they actually are
courage looks you in the face
it sees you how you wish you were-
courage knows all your secrets.

Courage is a four way intersection-
too much stop and go
too little patience
always having to predict another's move-
but courage doesn't always take turns.

I've always been really good at comparisons-
but really bad with expressing how I feel.
See missing you is like a simile
without the smile
because all I have left is just I
and not even my happiness anymore.
So I wonder when the waves will stop-
wonder why you will kiss me
at high tide
but leave when it becomes low again
I am low again-
But I hope that you realize I am so ******* happy
but at the same time I am nothing.
Like the sea, there are parts of me still uncharted-
I wish you could discover more of me
But you're a little too afraid of change
and I spend too much time shopping..

Courage is a hangnail-
taunting you to do what you know you should
realizing after it ******* hurts like hell-
sometimes you regret it most of the time you don't.
Courage will be there again one day-
just remember it's gonna hurt
but sometimes you have to bleed
to make room for new skin.

I was never taught what to do
in a circumstance where
age was just a number
but I didn't know any better.
I knew not about sexuality
only polly pockets and barbies.
I was only seven.
But somehow that circumstance
was uncircumcised
and he made me realize
dolls are just pretend
but this world,
this world is real
and it will steal your words
leave you with wounds
and take your sanity
in just one dark cold night.
I didn't know it wasn't okay-
I had thought this was normal
and every kid my age was like this.
But I knew something was off
when the generosity stopped
and the guilt started.  
It was then I realized
this isn't something I will grow out of
this has become a part of who I am.
I'm not sure if this scar will ever fade
but not a day goes by where I wish
I had done something to stop it.
I was young and naive
and longing for attention.
Somehow I was subject to the wrong kind
Where there should have been love
there was lust
where there should have been affirmation
there were bruises.
So maybe I just wanted someone to notice
I wasn't okay
It wasn't okay

But I still hold this inside me
latched onto my subconscious
like a virus
sickening the only sense of mentality I have left.
No one knows the secrets I hold
and I'm not sure if that's good or bad.
Though from time to time
I am reminded of his face
barraged by his presence
I somehow keep it together
because in my mind
I am living
and he is just a ghost.
Although, I wasn't okay,
although, It wasn't okay.
I will be, okay.

I don't feel real anymore-
like all these emotions are just figments of my imagination.
Everyone around me is feeling down,
so I consume myself in them.
My emotions are always running away with my thoughts
and I can never really run fast enough to catch them
they're too infatuated with each other
and I was never really fond of relationships.
"Keep your head up"-
I've been told that more often times than not..
But what happens when my head
is bringing me down
and what happens when my neck
doesn't have the strength to hold it up
not anymore-
it's too preoccupied with the noose scratching at my throat
leaving a ring around it like an apology letter etched in my skin
a sad sorry for carrying too many burdens behind these eyelids.
I don't know how to place what I feel.
How to paint it into words
how to explain it in a way others can understand
I don't want anyone to understand.
I just want to be better-
to feel better
to feel the bliss of ignorance
as you're wrapped up in someone
or taking that 40 to your lips
wallowing in what you know to be true
but you don't let yourself see.
I want to make you see.
Make myself see.
It's hard to take away everyone's misery
when it is your middle name
it is where you were brought up
and how you were made-
it's a heavy heart who carries others burdens
and a heavy heart it will stay
because these days it helps take away the pain
to help others deal with theirs
but what happens when you can't seem to
separate the energy from who you are
and suddenly they coincide
so all you're left with is negativity.
Dreaming so I never wake up-
wake me up from these thoughts so heavy
push them from my wake.
Take it all with you
leave it all to me.
A heavy heart can hold a ton
and I'm not sure my maximum capacity
but i think it's reached it's peak.
Who is there to help the one
who is always helping another-
one is loneliest number we own
but two makes me feel so much more alone.
When will someone help me take the weight-
I can only hold myself up for so long
before this chair folds
and I'm dust again.
Settle with me.

I have no words for my current state of mind and it's ****** up.
Usually I can conjure into words
the way this situation makes my ******* stomach curl
and the mere idea of it sends me spiraling back
into the dark pit of angst and disgust that is my childhood
But this time, oh this time, the words I write will become
a cemetery for every ****** up thing you've ever done
I just wrote the words I'm sorry, but I don't mean them anymore.
Not to you, not ever to you again.
I'm tired of being the backlash of what's supposedly family
I'm exhausted on the idea of being caretaker
for someone who should be taking care of me
and the circumstances I am left with makes it hard to leave.
Because if it were up to me, I would've been gone so long ago.

Just like the day I ran away from home
because daddy was in our hot tub with someone who wasn't mommy,
the day I ran away because I wanted someone, anyone to notice me
to show me some kind of attention that wasn't unwanted.
I spent days of my youth sulking my own fake tragedy
only to find that no matter what, no one will pay attention to me
because these days are busy and daddy's too overbearing
and if anything get's ****** up it's war at the house again.

I will not be a refugee for other people's problems
I do not have the time or the sanity anymore to partake
in the fuckery that is adultery and selfishness.
I do not mourn for you anymore because I am no longer a child
and I no longer pretend just to get some sort of attention
so maybe you should stop as well..

You are a leech, you **** out any good left inside of all of us
and in my life and I am done putting up with it.
I will not stand idly by and watch everything I've made of myself
Crumble and go to ashes just because your burning down
everything you've made for yourself.

The day you took your palms and placed them where you shouldn't
was the same day you lost me for good.
These material possessions are just a filler for your guilt
and I will not be fooled by this deceit with your pocket full of the same.

This love doesn't come in currency,
and I don't take credit, so mourn in your tragedy
and face the debt you have placed on yourself.
I have no sympathy for a rich's man scorn.
I have no sympathy at all anymore.

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.

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've been wreaking havoc on my head again.
Blatantly succumbing to the innocence surrounding my subconscious.
Everything sounds the same again and I'm having trouble functioning.
Everything is fleeting again.
Sand through fingers
but this fire inside my heart burns for you
so this sand just turns to shards.
Just like that sand I have been changing shape
and then hurting everyone around me.
These marks on my legs remind me-
I need oil in my car because if i don't change it soon
it will break down.
Just like me.
These scars are like race tracks upon my past
and I can't keep from going in circles.
But somehow these cuts are straight.
Like I could write poetry between them.
I need the sun to turn myself to glass
because it is stronger than sand
and it will make these scars turn golden.
I want to be golden again.
Give me sun
Give me warmth
and make me remember what it feels like to go the speed limit
I'm always in fast forward
but somehow constantly looking in the rear view.
My oil needs changing
and it's no surprise to me that I may wreck soon
Too distracted with what's behind
Too adamant on pressing the gas
when I know I shouldn't.
Taking things too far
Pushing too many limits.
Most of them speed
A lot of them my own.
None of them the things I should.
Can I go back to sand?
I want to take shape to the things around me
I want to be good at transitions.
You can't break if you are smaller than a grain.
You can break if you're always being stepped on.

around me are civilians
struggling with what it means
to be normal.

stuck in a loop of society's
standards and how their parents
raised them.

A plethora of mental chaos
and the burden of growing.

around me is myself
struggling with what it means
to be normal.

lost inside the idea
of being in control of something.

Their normal has a face.
It’s an object, or found at a place.

My normal is void of
human characteristics-
it is all solidified inside
this lost memory that
rips my limbic system
into an endless limbo
of hyper vigilance and manicness
I am a vigilante at best.

My normal is foreign.

My normal is a girl
with a slanted face
sitting in class
wondering why
the tip of her pencil
feels like a vice grip-

why the words
from a professor’s
lips sounds like grooming-
when in reality
she's stuck in a trance.

She's stuck inside the time
she got bribed for intimacy

stuck in a time
where she thought trust
was lust and that little girls
we're supposed to be submissive.

She's hanging by the thread of her thoughts
realizing these are memories-
realizing she cannot stitch up the holes inside of them.

That all this bad ****
isn't actually a daydream
that she can just fidget and blink and pinch
her way out of.

So now she has to learn to cope-
while she has an hour & a half
to take an exam and her mind
is void of any information.

She has never been taught
a lesson that she didn't teach herself.

I have never been taught
a lesson that I wasn’t manipulated
into learning.

So forgive me-
Bc my wish to be normal
is your struggle.

Forgive me
because this trauma
isn't a competition
but I can't help feeling like
I'm losing
can’t help but wish I was
in the place of others.

Can’t help but feel like my childhood
is nothing but an ankle monitor
keeping me distant from myself.

I am carrying around this burdening
that no one has any idea what to do with.

I am drowning in the idea
someone else will ever be able to help me.

I'm drowning in the idea of solitude
and independence-

That loneliness will someday
feel like progress.

That this pencil
will no longer feel like a vice grip.

I am choking on the absence of words
just dead air and radio silence.

This salience,
here on this stage-
will swallow me whole.

The only place I can call home.
This type of normal chains itself to me.

I start to wonder if you're really here,
if these times you treat me nice
are because you can't do it with her.
I try to hide the fact it is ingrained inside of my retinas
and the words you painted on that screen for her-
I wish they were mine.
Subtext and undertones tell my mind
to be cautious of these nice words you feed me.
I'm afraid I'm just your comfort,
your backbone because she used to be yours
but she broke you and left you crippled
and now I'm afraid of being your crutches.
If she ever comes back,
I am worried I will not see the daylight anymore
worried your smile will be
the light at the end of my tunnel
and without it I will be wilting and withered away.

It would be nice to think it a dream,
it would be nice to pretend it's just anxiety
but I feel it in my gut when you're with me
the pangs in my stomach remind me
of words you never said to me
and feelings you've never felt for me.
It would be nice to think it a dream.

But the reality of it is
the weakness in my bones
retaliates on my strength
and my mind becomes the biggest
contender of my downfall
and then there is you
and then there is her
and somewhere in the middle there's me.
I'm never where I want to be
with you is where I want to be
but in your mind I'm the next best thing.

safe to say it's sinking in-
reality has caught up to me
and I don't think I can be this person.
Wilting and withering at the thought
of those words not being mine.
You made it up to me-
but I haven't dove in.
Seems more like I'm jumping ship,
seems like I forgot to swim.
Save me
I'm not sure I exist anymore.

This life is like quicksand
Seems I'm caught up and sinking again.
Trying to talk my way out of it
But it seems my mouth is covered now.
Blocked by passive aggression
and the weight of my heels dragging me down.
I can't come up for air.
The grains have taken me
And there is nothing left.
No matter the strength I try to muster
Or the screams that leave my lips.
Seems my lungs are sinking too-
Seems I'm too middle of nowhere
And not enough city streets
nature is too familiar to me
And these buildings not enough.
Throw me a rope
and watch me drag myself out of this mess
and untie it from around my neck.
I'm dreaming of ways to make it out
But all I see is black.
All I seek is black
Because it's nuetral
It's nothing and it's calm
It seems that's what I need now.
It's dark under this sheet of grain
And I wish the sun would shine
Hard enough to make it glass
Bc I've never been one to live outside of glass houses
Too inside of the box
Never beside it.
Always beside myself.
Watching everyone look into me
But they don't really see
The whole picture
Just the box they put me in.
Turn me into stained glass windows
And I will show you what a church looks like at mass.
Belief and praise and worship.
I am nothing like I said I would be.

I'm sitting fist to chest
Chest to fist
And remembering
Every single other time
My reality has played this moment
Over and over inside of my mind
Until the ticking of my watch
Makes me throw it at the wall.

I'm tired of wasted time
I'm tired of the wasted nights
I spent wasted
Cause you took my body
And didn't care about wasting it
For what was under your waist

And then I had to wait-
Fostering the memory
Under security blankets my mind
Laid out for me so nice like.
So ******* pretty I didn't want to touch them.
But they started getting *****
I just wanted to wash them clean
But you know what happens
When you finally look under the old
Dusty ***** rug.
You find some ****
You would've rather not seen.

I saw some **** there
My mind would've rather not ******* seen.
But memory just had to pick up the **** blankets
And memory had to start a fire.
It walked away when I needed it most
and now I'm the one left
Trying to smother the flames.
Alcohol only made it grow
And the blankets I try to throw over it now
Just caught fire like everything else.

It's still burning,
But the bad weather
Followed by the good.
Helped it die down a bit.
I can manage them here and now
Still appreciating
the warmth it brings me.
Still appreciating
the strength it gave me.
But I have too many burns now
To ever trust this fire again.

memory left me scars
cuts and bruises-
Followed by a tainted liver.
It was the warm gun
and it pulled the trigger
more than once.
Every time it did
everything
went up in flames.
Except for me.
Except for me.

I try so hard to make everything I do enough,
but it never is.
& I don't think it actually ever was to begin with.
And these words I speak mean nothing to you-
your absence says it all.
I'm sorry you don't care the way you used to.
I'm sorry this life has hollowed you out
and turned every inch of your being into a black hole.
You're not who you once were
and it breaks my heart everyday.
Phone calls go unreturned
and text messages go unanswered.
This life is a disease and depression is like cancer.
I just wish I could have you back again.
But you're gone, I guess for good.
So it seems to my efforts are worth nothing anymore.
I hate to see the tides of failed attempts at empathy
turn you into someone who doesn't even know
what color my hair is anymore,
or why my boyfriend and I fight sometimes.
You just don't care.
& you stopped a long time ago.
I just wish it didn't have to be this way,
but I'm tired of trying for a cause
I will never change.
The piece of mind I have donated has gone bankrupt
and I have nothing left to give but my suggestions
Even then, you overlook my efforts
as if they were ants upon your walkway.
I am insignificant and unworthy.
and I have learned, things don't change.

He said that;
She kissed like her mouth was on fire and the only thing that could ever extinguish it was someone else’s tongue in the form of, I love you on her lips. And even if each movement never really felt like love she made it feel so real anyway.
Her hips moved like the oceans were begging for someone to ride the waves and she was the sand beneath the feet of many men but never made it seem that way, even if those men got to feel her warm embrace it was never considered enough to make her stay.
She was always a mystery to me and the way her lips curved under when she smiled made me envious of the way she spoke, jealous of every word that left her lips because they got to touch them again and again and again.
I hoped that a man would look at me the way men look at her, innocent and admiring of her ever-present and translucent beauty, it glowed bigger and brighter than anyone else I had ever seen. But it wasn’t her smile that made her so enticing-
He mustered up the courage to say it was her that made the outside so much better, it was the words she spoke and her intent behind them. The love she spread about with just her tongue made a mess out of my distaste for life and introversion.  So I started to question everything I had ever known.
The wind sat crooked on the back of tree branch and I wish someone would have spoken to me in sonnets the same way he looked at her in paragraphs and I wondered if my pessimism is shading my views of anyone else’s admiration but everything feels like a fairytale nowadays.
I wondered if the things he had said to me were dancing on the edge of his mind for some time now and I wondered if he looked at me that same way sometimes, but the look in his eyes told me otherwise.
The way his expression guided the moon to the eyes of everyone who was listening and entranced the ocean’s waves was something more beautiful than any amount of romantic gestures.
They kissed at high tide and made us believe in emotions that never were, dimensions of the world unseen to the human eye and it made me believe again.
She was the fire burning beneath someone’s feet and I felt as if I wanted to be a volcano, burning down everything in my path and never letting anyone close enough because they will feel the burn in between their toes once again so they’ll need to dance on the sand and wade across the ocean just to feel sane again.
I want to be the kind of girl that changes things-
I want to be the air that dances beneath my curls and reminds I’m alive again.
I want to be the ocean, so I can be water under the bridge.

My body shakes
I feel it in the tips of my feet
as it moves into the base of my neck

I am paralyzed by a fear
that remains nameless-
a fear that is missplaced
by a juxtaposition of overlapping anxieties.

my body becomes warm.
I leave these bones that once protected me
and turn into ash.

how do you come back from a fire
lit by your own body-
turned into dust on your own accord?

what do you do with the remains?

I have turned desert
dried up and almost deadly.

I do not let up until the sun goes down-
it is the only time I feel a sense of peace.

but even then
I still manage to come back empty
and endless and neverending.


my eyes are tired now
not rational enough to focus on anything
my brain likes to make a mess of my reality.

everything is pixelated
distorted and surreal.

and I have not come back from this since

will you hold my hand through it?

But you can't
you've disappeared
inside your own mind.

will we meet back in reality one day?
or will we stay lost on opposite planes.

I miss when we met in the middle
and you spilled your secrets onto mine.

but I became desolation
and you became destructive-
things won't feel the same again

so neither will I.

I try to write you out of my mind-
try to cry until there's no more tears
but they end up coming anyways
and it's not because I miss what we had.
It's because I let myself feel unhappiness for so long
that I convinced myself you were my happy-
when in reality you would bring me down
just to bring me up
so the reliance would fall upon you
but you got greedy-
and soon it was too much for you to handle
so you had to let me go.
You built me up and let me down
within the span of a year
and I think six months in is when
my world started to turn
because that's when the poems started.
The pages and stanzas of words
I felt for you that made me feel
nothing about myself-
you always made me feel low.
But I told myself I could fix it
because that's what I've been doing my whole life
trying to repair the things I didn't actually break
spending all my time fixing others mistakes.
You were never a mistake-
and I will always love you
deep down inside of me
I believe you are the one for me-
just not right now.
I've been acting as a parent my whole life
enough to know
that you have some growing up to do.
My outline is just a shade of dark now
and I'm working on the light again.
The flame I once was became smothered by love
and I'm trying to get it back-
but the wood is too wet from all the tears
and I don't have much to fuel the fire
because I am so ******* exhausted.
I'm tired of missing you-
when you hardly ever missed me anyways.
I know you love me-
you may think that's changed but it hasn't.
You convince yourself of these things
to make it all easier-
denial won't make it easier
repression won't make it easier.
Just deal with the fact
I was the one you loved most of all
and I was also the one you lost.
You can search inside yourself
to find what we had again
but you never will.
The void will always be empty
unless you have me.
So just remember my tragedy
fit your shoulders like a shirt sleeve
that now just wears your own heart upon it.
I wrote this in my dream last night-
I wrote this to get the thoughts of you
out of this mind they have been stuck in for days.
It hasn't been too long without you
but I start to miss you less and less-
I hope you start to miss me
so you'll realize exactly what you left.

I can't compete anymore-
a picture was painted at birth
and it doesn't reflect who I am on the inside.
I try to shy away from the insecurity
but the shadow creeps up from below my gut-
reminds me I am no longer worthy
convinces me I am nothing.

Seem you are a Monet,
and I am anonymous
thinking in colors
and painting in words-
but you are the physical manifestation
of the thoughts in which encompass my mind.
My outlook is meek again,
it seems I am maureen
because of her.

I try not to make myself
so black and white
and green all over
but envy has become of me.
Breaking away at the seems of beauty
and making a mockery of my outsides.
But the dream is real
and it seems every male knows it too.

Just a shadow to a city street,
a raindrop to a growing garden-
the colors surround her
and I'm stuck in black and white.

Metaphors make more sense
to me then anything else ever has,
you can speak to me in clarity
but I'll still question what it means.

These friends I have
they brighten me
but I'm still so black and white,
a negative of a positive picture
their appearance trumps my attempts
and they think in zest and breathe inside life.

The beauty that behold of them
triumphs over mine-
seems I love to surround myself
with the things that make me smile
even when I'm still black and white
they are the red and gold-
they are the much needed rainbow
after the hectic rainstorm.

most people try to convince,
an entire universe
filled with people they've never met,
and minds they've never come across
that they're someone worth looking at.

when i've been scattering my brain
and cowering in fear of my own judgment
attempting to convince myself,
i'm someone worth saving..

all things come to end,
and it's hard to convince
myself why that shouldn't mean me,
but it can and it will.
one day, someday.

i'm hoping my mind will have enough guts
to convince my heartache that this is just a phase
and that every day may seem hard
but every day can get better.
and i try to talk myself out
of what seems to weigh me down
in the first place
but all these misplaced repressive thoughts
and pent up aggression
has me wondering if it's too late,
to save me.

i've worked hard to keep everything inside
and now it wants out
and i'm not sure how to confine
my mind into a barrier
it doesn't want to be restricted to.

I am my own affliction,
my own restrictions,
i am my own painful crazy addiction,
I want to save myself,
but ******, I won't listen.

I hang onto the edge of your tongue
like a cliff that holds my obituary
written in it's stone structure-
as if every word you speak could change me
or send me flying over the edge-
forever falling, with no sense of security.
I have been bent and broken
and twisted and misconstrued  
into a shape I am no longer familiar with-
I am a mere figment of what once was
a shadow hidden in the dark alleys
and bed sheets of my subconscious.
Who I was is now just a ghost
and when resurrection is a rarity
I'm not sure there's anyway to make it back.
It seems the only time I am enough
is when I am putting on a smile
or kissing the traces of your neck
I left the dark side of myself behind when we first meet.
Seems I am the girl you hide away
inside your bedroom and your sheets.
The girl you sleep with, and sleep next to
but one you never seem to exit your comfort zone for.
I am more than just an everyday routine.
Please, just try for me. That's all I need.
Who I once was isn't who I am now..
So please give me back a fraction
of what I have left behind for you.

I tried to write about you
but my hands became tense.
I look around to all the people who surround me currently
stuck inside their worlds and speaking of things
I will never be able to understand.
They map out their talents on computers
and blank sheets of paper.
They form monuments of talent
through just their fingers
and I would like to think I'm the same way.
I would like to think these fingers
hold a talent unique to only I.
But my fingers are frozen on the words
Cancer-
spelled out inside your skin
corrupting all the progress you had made thus far.
You beat it-
used your willpower
and by god's will you lived through it.
Many people do, many people can.
Until it happened again.
Then my bones shook
made a mockery of my belief in anything-
after years it finally ate you away inside
and your lust for life became a chore.
I tried to stay away-
to avoid the fact it was happening
avoid the fact the world was taking away what was mine.
You were mine-
now we have been left here alone again.
It's been years now since you left
but the imprint in my heart
is still the same shape as when you were taken
and I'm not sure it can be filled anymore.
That part of me is unique
and I'm beginning to think it's the only one.

Someone once told me-
"you have too many problems for me to deal with"
and as the words made their way down my throat
into my stomach making a mockery of my digestive system
I was shaken.
The butterflies in my stomach wanted to fight back
tell them that "these problems are who I am so *******"-
but my mind shut out the butterflies and began thinking.
Tore apart who I was inside my own mind
my eyes began to water as they were looking into his
but I laughed instead of crying and didn't let my insecurity win
No, not that time- so I replied
"everyone has problems"

The boy I love once told me-
these feelings I possessed were more like a "burden"
rather than the blessing I made them out to be
and the butterflies began once again
demanding to be heard until the regurgitation made me listen.
I stood upright, cried until my knuckles bled
this was happening, all over again.
So I changed myself for someone who I thought
knew who I was and as the times changed
the darkness fell upon me much sooner than expected
and the love I thought I felt for him almost vanished.
But I realized I cannot push everything into someone
who doesn't want to carry the burden with me
and although the weight is heavy
I have carried it 19 years alone and struggling...
And yes, I now carry your weight with me too
on top of these burdens I own yours are not too far behind-
because with love comes sacrifice and strength
and I guess I'm just stronger than you.
So thank you-
for showing me the one thing I always really knew.
These emotions and struggles I possess do not make me weak-
I am not the burden or the nuisance around your neck
I am strength and the light that comes with early sunrise.
I am stronger than most and it scares people.

So as these problems shake me,
push me to the edge and tell me to jump-
I will clench my teeth as I clench the bottle
and I will clench my fist as it hits the wall.
I will remember the hole I just created
is a reminder I am strong
the bottle I just threw to the ground
is a reminder I am strong.
The silence of my cell phone
when everything is going wrong
and you have just too much going on-
is the constant reminder, I am strong.

Breathe me in
Wear me out.
Break me
thread by thread
Wash me scolding
watch me shrink
and burn
and wither.
Watch me
no longer fit
Come untied
And undone
Just at the press
Of a single button.

I am not here to make sense
Or to change.
Or run spin cycle
On repeat until
All my color fades
And becomes nonexistent-
I rub off on you.

Our shades mix too much
I ruin things
With my vibrance.
Never one tone
Never just pigment
Always either void
Or immense.

Drown me in hue
air dry my insides
I want to be left
And sulking
In the heaviness
I have soaked myself inside.

Too tight
Can't breath
I am unfit.

I heard the news of your broken bones-
but you have always been so heavy heart
and so hard head
it seemed like nothing more
than another scratch
nothing more than
another obstacle
you would move through.

Jump through the hoops
like you've always done
so resilient in nature
and unrelenting in stature.

Invincibility was apart of your genetic makeup-
ran through your bloodstream
even when I first met you.
But I never thought it would come to this.

Just another picture on the wall-
another memory
that keeps me clinging to this pain
that is withering inside my chest
and I am sinking
and sinking and sinking.

I can't stop thinking
and thinking and thinking
about the distance that grew between us.
Miles made it hard to be there for you
and that's all I ever knew how to do.
You didn't listen to orders
and took your own advice.
You're strong and ambitious
and it was built inside of your bones
from so young
so innocent
and then you grew-
grew to be something different.

You changed me
and from how it seems
you changed everyone else to.

I'm in a world without you now
but I can't be sad
I don't have a right to be sad
because you wouldn't want that.
You would tell me
"*****, you know I'm gonna haunt your ***"
and you would throw your head back
and laugh and laugh and laugh.

But I still cry at the thought
and I still cry at the lack there of.

Your bones broke inside of your chest
and I wish I would've tried harder
to keep you inside of mine.

Now everything is broken inside of me.
and I can't seem to place my head on correctly
or even formulate it into poetry
this just feels like ice-ridden insanity
a chill down my spine
that will never disappear
a constant reminder of the cruelty of life.

I don't feel real as of late,
just a dream
a figment of my own imagination.
I spend more days out of my body
than in it lately.
This world isn't a place I like to be.

You were always
my little sister
my biggest supporter
and a giant pain in my ***.
I cared too much
sometimes I think it pushed us apart.

I'm taking a plane alone tomorrow
so I can attend your funeral.
If it wasn't these circumstances
the plane would leave without me
because my anxiety would
stick me to this city I live.
But you're still pushing me
even after you're gone-
to leave my comfort zone.

The scar above your eye
comes with a memory.  

And I was always taking pictures,
every moment-
all the time.
I loved the limelight.

I'm glad for that-
because I have a plethora
of memories to look into.
A recollection of events
that my mind would be-
too numb to remember.

But even so,
I will always remember.

sorry this is ****,
I haven't been able to write since you left.

The poison touched my lips again
the morning after I awoke feeling more like myself
than I have in ages
and I started to realize-
this is the only version of myself I have known.
Instability etched into my genetic code
I was destined for the toxicity lining my bloodstream.
Once, I felt on top of the world-
standing amongst the people who thrived
and longed for the same passions I had.
Then I watched myself fall
third person point of view
my lifeless body had landed
where no one could reach me
I was too far gone.
So I let the sweet taste of surrender
fill my mouth and kiss my insides.
That's where I found myself again-
the only version of myself I have come to know
the one I became so familiar with.
I guess I don't know who I am anymore
without the foggy brain and the steadfast demeanor.
Passion is a *****-
especially when it seems like everyone is staring
watching as you fall to your own demise
and only a few are there to dry your tears.
They are never who you'd expect
but they live for this as much as you do.
No one understands unless this fuels them
unless their bones are aching from the lonely
that has become of me and what I tried to create.
Everyone is watching me fall
and most of them are too busy to notice
I can't hold on anymore.
The will I had to move forward with this
has been depleted by indecency.
Only a few remain-
they help pick me back up
and then hand me a pen
but when I go to grab it,
it slips through my fingertips
and falls to where I was on the ground.
So I start typing instead.
"The poison touched my lips again..."
but believe me-
none of this has ever been easy
remind me to not forget who I am again.

close-knit but tongue tied
these knots have formed around my limbs again
and all I seem to want is to cut ties
but I keep running in circles
the rope gets tighter now
there's nothing strong enough to cut
close enough to break from what brings me down.
There are days when I don't see myself too clearly-
I make a mockery of all this progress
and reversion encases my jawline
builds a fortress around my cheekbones
lets these tears I own fill an arc all the same.
Never sane in what I am saying
never too close for comfort
never still
always silenced.
See this mind of mine has torn in two
and I am seeing stars again
I looked too closely into the light
that became of me
and now I have trouble seeing anything.
Blind optimism has turned a blind eye to currently
to the reality I live which feels nothing short of a fiction novel
but these spells are not long enough for many chapters
So I fill this shell casing of who I am with novellas
and hope the print isn't too small
and the dialogue isn't too excessive.
Feeling apart of something bigger
has always been my call-to in this world
has always been the north star guiding me
to the place I want to be.
See I've never really felt the words "family"
warp around my skin and make a home inside of my psyche
but it's the only word thats ever meant anything to me.
Which is why these words turn to a warm gun
and I hold it close to my chest
inching to pull the trigger
in hopes more of me will scatter onto the floor
and into the world.
But I strive for consistency and stability
so the gun is just a way to protect me
these words will always be there to protect me.
When I grow old-
when the color fades from my hair
and you can no longer see the outline of my youth
etched inside these expressive tendencies
that is where you will find my happy
in the names of every offspring
and every person I've ever loved-
every good deed I have ever done
that is where you will find my happy.
I have lost myself inside the toxicity
and it clouds the mirror on most days
but sometimes the smoke clears
and I can see who I am again.
Repeating "I am here"
until I convince myself it's true.

Dear me-
I lost myself inside of you
and I will be coming to collect soon

in a life or death situation,
when the hands of time
are running you over
with a mac truck.

When death is arriving
at your door step
60 miles per hour
while the grim reaper
is in the passengers seat
grinning from ear to ear.

You get hit-
But somehow the graces
of destiny
or god
or good luck
help you survive.
But you need another's
blood to fill your veins
and make you whole again-

Is it then you will deny the blood,
of someone who doesn't
have the same values,
or live the same life.
Is it then you will say,
no that person loves another
of the same gender,
I wont do it.

And you die,
slowly and painfully,
from your own ignorance.

Is it then you say,
that person is of a different race,
I refuse to take that blood.

And you die,
slowly and painfully,
from your own selfish views.

When will people wake up and realize,
blood is blood?
People are people
love is love
and who the **** are you
to tell someone
they're not worth a thing
because you told them so?

You are not god,
you are not a supreme leader,
you cannot dictate
and enforce
your unorthodox hatred
unto others,
because blood is blood.

When the chance comes
that you no longer have life
and you're sitting alone and cold
in a bed with no one around
but your fragile memories
of family and friends
that turn to hatred and self-loathing
and you are all you have.

you will then wish
that you took the blood
you will then wish
you didn't hate so much
you will then wish
on every star in the sky
that you realized sooner
blood is just blood
and people are just people
and some of those people-
like you,
are unjust and just too ******* evil.

desired.
all I want is to feel like
someone wants to feel my hands
grip at the edge of sensuality
but the echos are no more
and the only time
my body feels wanted
is when I think back
to the darker times
when I didn't want to be wanted.
But now that I do
the feelings will never be reciprocated.
Jaded, I will always be.
Fading into the background-
just pictures and ones out of your reach
is the only sense of sexuality you seek-
perfection isn't me, nor will it ever be.
I just want you to want me
but I guess that can't be...
standards too high for you
memories too strong for me
what does it feel like to be happy?

I found myself inside the sun
and lost myself in the winter winds.
It's no surprise to me anymore-
that I am prone to repeating my mistakes.
Convinced myself to run away
but I ended up running back.
Stuck here, wishing I would've kept my word-
but I'm not familiar with consistency.
I missed you as you were leaving
but nostalgia reminded me why I shouldn't.
History has a tendency to repeat itself
and it seems we're standing inside
a museum of our mistakes.
It has dawned on me-
our love had an expiration date
it was not fermented properly
so eventually everything just spoiled.
Love isn't fun for me anymore
it never really has been.
Everyone is always stop and go
when I always wish they would stay.
But I am not enough to keep them-
too much to handle
too much to tolerate.
Irrational and unpredictable-
these cons are too abundant
they outweigh the pros too often.
But my heart is big
and you make it feel too heavy to carry.
I loved myself once-
then I loved you instead
you felt there wasn't enough room for both.