The hands of time seem to be speeding up my downfall
and I can't outrun the clock anymore.
These words I speak to you are frivolous and vacuous in your mind
and it seems to be thinking of ways
that you can break me down.
I will not be my father,
brought down by the circumstance in which I stand.
I will not be my mother,
letting anyone at all get under my skin and plant themselves in it.
I will not let your words grasp around my neck
and choke away any words I wish to say to you.
I have a voice, and it will be heard.

I will not be backlash for your insecurities
I will not feel bad for being me
I've spent my whole life wondering who I am
and I've found the person I have become.
I will not succumb to your paranoia and change me.
Inconsistency for me is an everyday thing
and frankly I'm tired of guessing-
waiting around each corner for a surprise attack.

This is not who I have been,
this is not who I want to be.
I should not have to sacrifice myself
just so you can be your idea of happy.

this ache in my chest sends me backwards,
under covers and into a night
that knows no time zone.
hours mean nothing
to the face of a depression nap.

my hand clings
to my childhood blanket-
when all I've been
trying to do lately
is let my past go.

but there's nostalgia there,
hidden behind the tragedy,  
behind the smell of alcohol
on my father's breathe
and the sound of distain
in my mothers.

there was hope there once-
until I saw what it turned me into.

but is this version of me so bad?
I guess things could've been worse.
I guess all of this pressure
could've turned me a little more numb.

cutting off circulation
at my self-confidence
I've been trying to find a balance.
Dying to find a way to feel
non-restricted.

I guess there are better words
to be used than the ones I do.

But who has time to be pristine,
when someone will find me
messy anyway?

who has time to think,
when I am just
who everyone says I am anyway?

what good is pressure
when you know you
won't live up to all of these
expectations?

I'm wading in the water
awaiting a wave to carry me away-
but these blockades won't budge.

and I'm stuck
sitting in a place everyone wants me to be.
looking like I am happy.

where has this talent gotten me?
where will it even take me?

I have spent too long in the shadow
of someone else that I no longer know myself.

but have I ever?

My heartbeat ticks like a clock on most days
the pounding of my chest reminds me I don't have much time left
I start to wonder why being shaped like an hourglass is such a good thing.
We are always running out of time.
So much so that we don't even count when we reach a mile-
in high school they train you to keep time
but somehow you always end up running and running away from it.
Other kids shamed you for not completing the mile fast enough-
but your body thanked you for not pushing it so hard.
There are days when my alarm wakes me up before the sound comes
like my body somehow knows my time for sleep has ran out.
Things are constantly running away from me-
kind of like you.
I try to slow down the hands to this clock
but as yours wrap around my waist
it only speeds things up for me
because I no longer pay attention to the sound of my heartbeat.
Yours is the only ticking I can hear on those days.
I find myself using too many metaphors
and not enough alliteration or sibilance-
or any other methods of poetry for that matter.
I am too busy organizing these thoughts too quickly
so they do not run too fast away from me.
My mind is something I'm always trying to catch-
trying to keep these emotions in order and on cue
so I don't run out of time with you.
But somehow I end up losing it,
all of it and I am on the brink of insanity again
because how can you feel secure
when you don't know how much time you are wasting
I do not want to waste all this time with you.
If I am just another hour on this clock of your life
it will be the best **** hour you will ever encounter
because the rest of mine are spent trying to place
these emotions that have run out on me.
Spent trying to learn how to keep time,
how to keep them in mind
how to not let them change who I am again.
But see these emotions are not an alarm clock-
they are a pop quiz
an erupting volcano that has been dormant for years,
a hurricane you knew was coming but you weren't sure when,
an hour of detention that goes by so painfully slow
you contemplate your entire life.
These emotions don't come every other sunday-
they don't become planted in the soil inside of me
and sprout when I water them.
They are the dust that collects under your bed
from the particles of your skin-
and you don't know they are there
until you clean out the things you've been meaning to for a while.
My life is all metaphor and not enough logistics.
Not enough order and routine-
the only thing keeping me is time
and the dust has settled again.
It had rested in the lining of my lungs
and sits in the bridge of my nose-
it won't be long until it collects and overflows
and I am dealing with the consequences of not keeping
this life in order, in detail, I made no room for cleanliness.
There is no freedom inside of this mess,
inside of this wristwatch that will not leave
even when I try to cut it off.
The ticking of the clock is all I hear-
it aligns perfectly with the sound of my heartbeat.
I fear it will stop ticking
I fear I will stop feeling
I fear this heart will stop beating.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Tick.

The problem with intimacy is,
it can leave me more exposed,
and naked
and cold,
Then any type
of lustful encounter
ever could.

How can you open up,
and give yourself to someone,
with such little to offer,
and so much to handle.
If I could harness the hands of time,
I would use them to feel you,
in ways I never could.
I would take back the times,
I chose liquid courage,
instead of truth,
and lust,
instead of sanity.

The problem with closeness,
is it breeds distance.
And there aren’t enough,
hands of time to ever turn back,
how badly I pushed you away.

I would love to love,
but some things,
are so overwhelmingly terrifying,
you’d rather feel nothing,
than get something
and feel everything,
all at once.

I tried before,
to get to you,
in ways I never had,
like deep conversation,
and learning about each other.
But some things,
are never enough,
and sadly,
the hands of time,
can never wipe away the past.

One.
The first memory I ever have as a child-
I was looking at bars in front of my face
and trying to push myself up long enough to stand above them
but it never really worked.
I never really ever felt tall.
I was an infant, maybe even a toddler.
I remember a man coming over to me
and then everything seems to go dark after that.
Twenty.
As I was sitting in class, I hear my teacher speak
"The earliest memory most of us have is at the age of 5 or 6-
and you don't remember really anything before that and if you do
it's usually because of some type of emotional trauma"
So I began to wonder if that blank part in my mind
is just another repressed memory begging to eat away at me
when the moment is right and I am happy again.
Or will it stay etched in my mind as a blank page
that I will never even get to fill.
and I'm not even sure I want to-
I'm not sure that's something I'm willing to find out..
Seven.
It happened again-
I remember the lap of a stranger and the dark room
clouding around me making a mockery of my retrieval cues.
I'm not sure who I am in this moment.
Eight
Hyper-sexuality takes it's hold on me
and doesn't let me go until-
Thirteen.
The year the memories of that night flooding my retinas
the year my grandmother got sick-
the year who I thought he was moved in,
the year I questioned everything about myself
until I came to grips with who exactly I was
but I don't think I ever did-
because he moved out and cancer moved in
and I lost touch with who I was because
I was too busy being what everyone else wanted from me.
26 absences from school-
sorry Lakota but cancer doesn't have off days
and neither does my mother who's playing caretaker.
My grandma was never my downfall
though there are times I sometime portray it that way,
she was merely just my lighthouse
guiding me home, whenever I was ready to see the light again.
Fourteen.
I tried pills.
Flexril. Clexxa. Effexor. Protonix. Busphar. Vyvanse. Seroquil.
Etc. Etc. Etc.
I either got fat, got acne
or didn't last two months before having a mental breakdown.
The pills fueled the flames within-
they begun to burn every last shred of hope I had left
and it wasn't too long before I tried to end me.
Fifteen.
Still trying more pills.
Sixteen.
Realized the pills weren't working much anymore.
Seventeen.
Started drinking. Stopped listening.
Coping through empty bottles became routine
and I didn't want to stop for anybody.
I began to fill the hole in my heart
and the blackness in my memory with liquid courage-
I hoped something would trigger me into knowing.
I hoped that the more I would drink the more I would remember
but that was *** backwards because most people drink to forget
and somehow I was somewhere in between -
like I was on death row looking forward to my last meal-
but still hoping for some kind of pardon.
Eighteen.
Started therapy. Manic Depression she told me.
Management tactics turn into routine
though I still held a vice grip on that bottle.
Friends brought me back from the dead.
Made me someone worth loving again.
Then I met a boy.
He was awkward and I didn't really trust a thing he said to get me-
I never really trusted anyone anyway, till he kissed me-
proved to me that I was someone worth fighting for
proved to me that everything wasn't so ******* terrible after all.
I decided I didn't really need the bottle anymore-
that the memories weren't so bad because they made me
victorious-
a winner of a never ending battle I will continue to fight
but I will come out on top every single time.
Nineteen.
Went to college.
Shared holidays with a boy I loved for the very first time-
finally felt like I had a family again.
Shared my love for poetry with strangers.
Fell in love with the world again.
Twenty.
Sober. In love.
& I told myself I sure as hell wouldn't make it past eighteen.

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?

I grasp at the sound of my voice-
try to hold it between my fingertips
but it slips away.
I try screaming but nothing comes out.

I long for the days
when my hands weren't so fragile.

My heart is heavy in my chest again-
my lungs don't have the space to breathe
no, not anymore.
I am clinging to the idea
my heart will lessen
and become cold once again.

I long for the days
when my heart was open and empty.  

I just want to breathe-
want to feel like my chest isn't on fire.
Put me out.
Water me down with your words
and slice open my chest
with your razor tongue.
Make this heart stop breaking-
and weighing down everything.

This is all your fault
so it's up to you to fix it.
Eat the words you said
because I'm having trouble
finding mine.

I long for the days
when my words weren't at war.

When you left-
you took my ability to write with you.
All I could muster were small sentences
and they never made sense.
Without you-
nothing really makes sense.
I'm trying to rack my brain
about you.
Wrap my brain
around you.
Still just confusion.

I long for the days
when my mind was just a blank slate.

Sometimes I wish I had never met you-
stopped answering your texts
stopped waiting for your reply
stopped letting you paint
my smile on for me.
I am my own artist
but somehow you had better tools.
More colors to choose from.
I was just so black and white-
you were just so rainbow.
But now you've became the storm.
It's hard to breathe in the midst of a hurricane.

I long for the days
when my hands weren't so fragile.
I long for the days
when my heart was open and empty.
I long for the days
when my words weren't at war.
I long for the days
when my mind was just a blank slate.

Nostalgia, your oldest friend.
You can't remember her favorite color.
Or even the sound of her voice.
But you remember the fondness she brings.
Until she's ringing your neck
with all of this past regret and you cannot breath again.
Help me breath again.

Conviction in my confidence and conflict in my consistency.
My mind is on an endless loop.
It keeps reminding me that alone is the only four walls I need.
There's not much talking here anymore.
Just the sound of echoes bouncing off the things we wish we could say.
The silence tells more about me then I would like to admit and there are days when the sound of my own voice
is something I no loner recognize.
The lingering hope to proceed in this awakening, this coming to god moment makes my knees weak and praying isn't an option anymore
Because my hands are too preoccupied trying to dig you out of my throat-
Too busy writing down words I should be saying outloud or at least acknowledging to myself.
But even if I did they would all come out distorted and faulted and weak,
a true reflection of ones self.
They say intelligent people are more prone to being depressed
because they understand more of the harsh reality that is life.
So give me ignorance-
I don't wish to know how I want to kiss the nape of your neck forever
but I live in a world where forever is fleeting and reciprocation isn't working in my favor anymore.
I am never one to be rooted into one place, so I don't expect anyone to stay long enough to water me.
I'm half sun half shade
Both tend to work in my favor on most days.
But then there's days like today where I am awakened by the soft pinch of the reality
squeezing just hard enough to break the skin.
I don't want to bleed anymore.
I just want to be
But what happens when my mind will not let that happen.
I am a zombie in my wake
always searching for something when everyone else just ******* runs away
Don't worry, I only want to eat my own insides.
Rip them to shreds and turn me new again.
Basking the glory of what can be.
But someone cut off my head-
They did what I had been planning to do all along
And now I am alone in my solitude.
Watching as everyone around me realizes that I compared myself to a zombie and flower all in the same poem
All because I am one part beautiful
And all others destructive.
and it feels like I've been writing for hours
But I'm not sure how long it's been because time is never something I was good at keeping, kind of like you.
I am a broken wrist watch
stuck in time-
and you are a hourglass
always running out of it.

these hands are too small, too paper thin again
they are almost translucent, and it's a nuisance
to hang this noose around my neck-
seems the seams of this design
I have designated to myself
have withered away amongst men
who have too much malice,
they do not belong inside of my head
get me out of here, get them out of here.

It is dead-
the fuel inside of me that flickers
and burns for your embrace.
it is dead once more.
Twice more I found you-
exposing your true colors
seems three is too many chances to be given
so why is there a fourth?

Why are these paper thin hands
inclined to crumbled amongst love
and disintegrate at the mere loss of it.
I'm having trouble understanding
what it means to feel love.
It is etched inside of closet doors
and dark corners.
Painted out in broken glass
upon my kitchen floor
and masked by male privilege.

I wish I wouldn't have-
became who I am for you.
I wish I wouldn't have gone through so much
maybe then we could live in naivety together
maybe then the lines between us
wouldn't be so etched inside black
turned inside out by your lack of trauma
or my extensive experience with it.

I'm beginning to think
I am more of your problem
than solution
and maybe that is why your mind
traveled elsewhere.
Made it's way into another's home
but still somehow invaded my resting place.
I don't want to share your substance-
but I still feel in competition.

Drowning under the pressure
that you put upon my shoulders
I'm trying to be who you want me to be.
But it will never be enough for you
I'm slowly losing my sanity.
The building blocks
that make me who I am
are lost now
you hid them all behind resentment-
you can find the real me there.
Too bad you'll never go looking,
too bad I don't have to strength to either.

Framing the worlds lullaby on a string of soliloquies
I made the magic happen again-
Volume up and everything inside of my
Eardrums became the strength I needed to smile again.

Sin became salvation and I wished
Every single second could be that much longer but
Cynicism doesn't come with every verse inside a song-
Only with the need comes strength of finally realizing
Nothing makes you happier than
Disregarding the demands of your former self-
Summer comes along again but you start to miss the winter winds.

Only you can feed your need to go on-
Front row of your insecurities making a mockery of this show.

Someone cast your lines and rehearsed your verse all wrong-
Unsung heroes became undone and you broke yourself again.
Muttering the words under your breath you need to save yourself-
Momentary lapse of judgment you finally caught your breath
Eventually the chorus played out and your script was finally finished
Revolutionizing the scene that surrounds, you're finally home again.

Blink twice
this is nothing short
of a mid-mid-life crisis.
And you can use
  these vices
  as an oath to your past
  a signature
on your obituary.

I started writing mine
  long before I knew I died.
  long before deception
  hid in the back of lungs -
  and the reputation of my liver
  yes it proceeds itself
  and I seem to repress it all.
                                            
I'm tired of running scared
compromise holds me
  like a warm gun-
  a vice grip
  on these vices
And I feel it
starting to slip.

kiss the barrel baby
you never know
  when the safety's off
  Don't you trust me?
  just say you do.
Don't you trust me?
  I don't
well neither did you.  

Watched you lie
   (In your sins)
   And on your back
You roped me in
   and won't throw me back
Sinking ship
Abandonment.
This is where repetition
meets Russian roulette
   play it back again.

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.

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.

On the outside looking in are hinges,
they keep together the things so willing to fall apart.
When gravity does it's best to pull away at the seems
a thread and a needle will do.
Push me in and pull me out
these games that are etched in my mind
like to play hide and seek with my emotions-
so I wear my heart stitched upon my sleeve
for everyone to see.

A scarlet letter in the shape of a sin
once more and once less
I have shown my true colors and they all bleed red.
Purple is my favorite color but my aura seems orange lately
which is to say a part of me is being washed out.
The crease between my fingers has gone cold
and sweat is the only thing I feel there most days.
Someone hold on to them
someone remind me what that feels like.
Then don't.

I am too outspoken and
not enough backbone.
Too passive agressive
and not enough passionate.
These bones are filled with oxymorons
and there's not a **** cell that can help
aside from the prison-like one inside my head.
Get me out of here.

Discourage the synapsis and spark a fire inside of me.
I am begging to be undone again.
The only thing I know in truth
is that I do not know enough-
and my hands shake on more days than just one,
more chances than just two
and more hours than just three.
I dig myself out of envy
and birth myself from accomplishments
so it is to say I'm still a kin,
still a figment hidden inside another.
This life of mine is structured out of a person
I don't know anymore.

The pills made me different,
the pills make me better
but who is this person I see now before me
and how did all this progress lead her here
to the place where she dreamed she would be
the one where she is not shaking anymore
at the thought of waking up the next day
the place where conversations can flow
and ideas can be explored-
she can finally catch her breath.

The weight that has burdened me
from the breathing inside of this chest
has been sent away to it's original owner
it seemed he went to the gym to lift it
just so he could gain strength from the struggle.
Push himself further than I ever could
but these things inside of my chest are strong now.
I can feel my heart beating again.

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.

I want to pick up the phone
and tell you I love you
shout it from the ******* rooftops
so you'll know I've felt this way all along.
I don't know how I can prove it to you
or if you doubt my every instance to try and let you know.
I'm ****** up,
I wish I could fix myself, but I can't.
The only thing I know for sure
is that I love you.
I don't know what else to do with myself,
when my lows are so completely irrationally low
you're the only one I want to talk to,
when something good happens to me
you're the one I want to run to and tell.
But instead I'm sitting here,
wishing I had some kind of backbone,
and some sort of security.
These bones are shaking from the things
my mind is capable of conjuring up.
The lower I get, the more I love you.
Save me, if it's not asking too much.

It was a sunday,
that I remember like it was
yesterday.
and I wished,
I could kiss your lips,
and feel you emotionally.
But the problem,
with intimacy is,
it’s mostly a two way street.
emotional or physical.
rarely both.

So I stand back,
and look at the lights,
as they hit your soft eyes,
and tell me things about myself,
I never really knew.

I took pride in the fact,
I wanted nothing,
and life gave back the same.
But as you entered,
I soon came to realize,
that everything will change.

and it did,
good or bad,
I still can’t decide.

But I wish,
I was as simple,
as coloring a page,
with crayons
and colors and detail.
anyway you want,
anyhow you want.

But I am a jigsaw puzzle,
with the pieces thrown together,
most of them missing.

You came to me,
when I needed it most.
But it’s not enough,
to rid of my ghosts.

Insecurity is a burden to be,
which is why i cling to independency.
I wish it were different,
but you are you,
and sadly,
I am me.

what do you write
when you have no idea
what exactly it is you feel
but anxiety and nerves
and inadequacy.

My life has been spent
wondering if the way
I feel is actually okay
or if i'm just entirely delusional.

All I ever need is some effort
and affirmation
but it seems that
it must be too hard for people
so as I sit alone
no one to confide in
I wonder why I'm always
second best to those I put first.

Sorry for sounding redundant
but it seems everything I write
somehow sounds exactly the same.
So maybe, for the sake
of deja vu
I should just quite this too.

Not many things make me happy anymore
not even the curve of your lips
when you smile
because what good is all of that
if you don't even plan time
for me in your busy schedule.

I am a victim of my own self pity
and I have felt sorry for myself all my life.
But I'm sorry, I don't know how to change me.
I wish I could.
Goodnight.

My dad tells me he is proud of me
somehow it makes the knife
he stuck into my back as a child
dig in deep enough to hit a vain-
I cannot feel my backbone anymore.

The animosity I felt towards my father
was always my fuel to this housefire he lit himself
burning all of our confidence down with it.
The resentment was always the extra leg I needed
in order to stand up to other men who shoved me down-
The strong arm I needed so I could push myself
further and further just to prove him wrong
looks like I did.

The house has been rebuilt
with no intention of being burned down
but somehow I'm still waiting for the match to strike,
for the flick of the lighter or the pouring of gasoline.
I'm waiting for everything to go up in flames-

When I get comfortable or consistent
I start to smell the fumes
and before I even have a chance to run away
I am consumed.
It's been too long since I've felt the warmth
starting to like the cold a little too much now.
The worry is worse than the outcome
and the possibility is worse than the actuality.

My dad told me he was proud of me
words I've been waiting to hear since I was four.
Makes me wonder if people actually do change-
makes me wonder if you can too.
Waiting around for the smoke to clear
is something I was never good at
couldn't take the lack of breath.

Loving you is void of the fire
but still breathing in the fumes
I hope it will end soon
but I like the way it tastes.
When it's done and the smoke clears
I can still smell it on my clothes.
A small reminder that I was once
so buried beneath a sheet of insecurity
it kept me from thinking clearly
seeing clearly
and everything just ended up ash.

All we have ever been is ash
a gust of wind away from oblivion.
Burn me down to build me up again.

I remember the winter
how it chilled my bones-
and it reminded me of you.
I remember the night
how it shook my insides-
and that too reminded me of you.

I look at my reflection in the glass-
still seeing you behind me.
Hovered over my progress
hindering the steps I take forward.
You cower in the corner of my courage-
finding me when it has run dry.
Peeking out of my mind
when least expected
seemingly at the worst time.

I never knew you like I thought-
tried to face what you did to me
but denial is your muse
what keeps you coming back
is me.

You have been the reason
for me almost leaving-
the reason for these scars upon
my wrists, hips and thighs.

Two months ago
I wrote the last poem about you
my body could think to write.
My mind kept calling you back to me.
The winter chill captivated me
took me hostage there in the front seat-
waiting for my car to warm.

You're the reason for the makeup
that drips own my face and burns my eyes.
But only sometimes-
you are not to blame for everything
except my fear of the dark corners
and my inability to keep myself
from trying to discover what hides in them.

I hate the winter
the cold takes me hostage-
it chokes my willpower
and makes me remember you there.

You don't know that repression gave up-
ran away around middle school
when I couldn't be strong any longer.
You came back in the winter-
reminded me of when you left me in the dark.

I still smell you sometimes
and remember the things you showed me.
How they were something I didn't want to learn.
Seven is everyone's lucky number-
but somehow it has me doomed to fail.

I saw you standing there-
my mind hazy from intoxication
I thought I could handle you there.
Metal should only be in your head
if something went wrong-
and so that's why I threw the bat at yours.

The closest I've been to showing you what you did-

The winter still chills my bones-
the night still shakes my insides.
But I am still alive
Still Okay.
Still Alive.

The sun fights hard to keep its place
and the winter doesn't stay forever.
So you won't either.

I have been accustomed
to dark hallways
and never quiet homes.
I've spent life hiding
behind masks of people
I hardly even know.
I looked up to the ones
who looked down on me
and not because
I was young and naive and short
but because I had no self worth.

I put my all into people
who gave me back nothing
and lost myself in the process.
The self discovery I should've experienced
was hid away in the dark hallways
and drown out by the sleepless nights.

I've taught myself most things,
like how to tie shoes, and do makeup
but what I cling too dear to myself
is how I learned without being taught
that more often than not
never being shown a way
can make way for an even brighter tomorrow.

I'm not good at a lot
like talking about my feelings
or making room for myself to grow
but I am good at being me
whoever that may be
and even though
I may be lost
inside still dark hallways
and always quiet homes
I have found love
where there was never any at all
I have found hope
when I had never known the meaning
I have found light
inside the dark covers
I'd been hiding under.

rewind.
then press play.

my blood boils over the edge as every word
that spills from your lips is volcanic ash piercing my skin
and how is one supposed to stay calm
when my life has been spent bottling up
way more than I can hold,
this routine is getting old.
I can't take the constant trembling of my upper lip
and quivering of my limbs
I'm not too sure how long I can hold this in.
I take two steps back and inhale deep
but it's still not enough to help me
rid of these demons that won't let me sleep.
Every ******* waking moment
is spent fighting a war I didn't sign up for.
I was involuntarily shipped out
to surroundings unknown and places unseen
in my mind is only chaos and blatant disorder.
So **** the fact I can't think clear enough
to jot down the words exploding from my mind,
but I have a right to explode...
I have kept my cool for far too long.
My mental stability will be revolutionized,
I have the right to do so.

at a young age,
most girls took the time
to plan their future wedding
with cakes and flowers
and music that kissed the crowd
and lights that danced the night away.

but me,
I was too busy
wondering why
anyone would want that
in the first place
because where i come from
the only thing that dances
are the shadows
in the corners
i found myself hiding in,
and the only thing that gets kissed
is my father's ***
whenever he was two beers deep
and feeling pretty entitled.

the only future i ever saw for myself
that involved another man
was getting away
from the ones in my life

because where i come from
the bruises and the *****
are far few in between
and love was only shown
by a dollar sign
nagging at my hand
crying take me
this means love
when it only really meant war.

the only thing i ever felt
remotely good at,
was hiding away
in the dark depths
of solitude.
and i made a promise to myself
a long time ago,
i would never lose myself
to gain love the way i saw it
and i would never feel love
the way it was shown to me
and i would never let someone
not hear what i have to say.

i told myself,
that if i ever fell in love
it would never be someone
like me, or my father
or any of the men in my life.
so i fell in love
and fell in love hard
but then just as i felt myself falling,
i slipped on the ground
i was stuck on to
and i reverted to something much simpler,
solitude.

and all those promises i made to myself
got flushed away,
by lack of affirmation
and my fear of abandonment
because i'm not sure what's worse
not being able to formulate how you feel,
or being too scared to feel at all..

I have been taught only
what i was willing to teach myself
and I was too busy
trapped in  dark corners
and tip toeing around circumstance
to teach myself how to feel properly
and my environment was so dark,
i never gave myself a chance to see the light
I have done many things wrong in my life,
and you are not one.
but why do I feel so lost inside myself
like the hands of time
are grasped around my neck
as i choke on every word i wish to say to you
I have become terrified of truth
and obsessed with affirmation
that soon i will lose
the only thing i hold sacred
and thats you.

.... but I don't want to.

The warning signs I didn't pay attention to,
because I was too busy loving you.

1. Your hands felt like tight clothes that didn't fit
and I couldn't find a return receipt.
2. My interests, to you, were like destinations-
you could drive me away from them at will.
3. My days, were etched in your palms
and you could break them, just as easy
as you could make them feel comfort.
4. You never let me feel things.
5. You always made me feel bad for loving you.
6. But you made me feel like loving you
was the only thing I could do right in the relationship.
7. Our future consisted of nothing but
the outline you wanted to draw.
You were an artist-
all you ever knew
was how to pain things
the way you desired.
8. You hated my friends
and any time spent with them
with anyone other than you.
Too green eyed
and not enough purple heart.
You did not honor who I truly was.
9. You hated my family-
Even though in 2 and a half years
you only "tolerated" them a handful of times.
But just like every other aspect of my life
they were found too inadequate.
10. You broke me down into a person
I wasn't even sure I recognized anymore
spending everyday morphing myself
into someone I thought
you would be able to love better.

But you never loved me better
and so I went backwards.

It took me a long time
to realize the abuse
that was captivating my life.
Someone doesn't have to hit you-
for it to be considered abuse.
Learn this.  
Repeat the warning signs
inside your head
until they register.

One day I will have to teach
my children to stand up straight.
Not to take anyone's ****
and to run far away when
someone else makes them
feel like their love isn't worth it.
I will be strong-
head held high
while knowing
in the same exact breath
I am a hypocrite.

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 fell into you,
fast and without warning.
It just kind of happened,
you and me.
I think, that’s how I know.
I didn’t have time to over think,
or second guess myself.
We fell into each other
and your warm embrace
comforted me, like I’d never felt before.

I smiled at the sight of how your eyes lit up,
in a way that could intensify a city skyline
whenever you looked into mine.
I forgot what it felt like to laugh
and smile, and love.
But you reminded me so easily.

Without hesitation,
I fell for you.
I let fate take it’s course
and I haven’t looked back since.
You’re the one I want to always be with.

The idea of forever seems, irrational.
But with you, it all makes sense.

I feel nothing,
just irreparable darkness and all consuming sadness
I cannot shake this feeling
no matter how many times
you think I can, it can't happen.
You don't ******* get it
and there is no way to describe
the way my entire body is trembling
just from existing..
I can't escape from this darkness
I have spent my days afraid of-
trapped in this repetitive cycle
of cynical thinking.
I want to be okay.
with every inch of my being,
each and every vein inching closer to my heart
the mere thought of being okay for just one second
the idea seems so euphoric
but it leads me to disappointment in the end.
I will be okay, eventually.
But don't tell me I do not feel these feelings,
that the words I speak are irrational and insane
because I already ******* know they are-
But I have a right to feel this way.

What would you do if every instance in your life
felt as if you were almost about the fall from your chair
but, you catch yourself.
See, I lost my balance and I keep falling,
never knowing when I will hit the ground
flinching, anxiously awaiting
for the moment my body meets the pavement
so I feel everything again.
But that moment never comes
and everyone around you
is yelling,
"Just spread your wings and fly."
"Brace yourself for impact."
"Don't over-think hitting the ground too much"
"Just think positive"
"You'll stop falling soon, don't worry"
But no one realizes,
the only thing you're capable of doing
is anticipating an introduction with the ground
you know will never come.
So the hands you tried to use to grip onto the edge of sanity,
are now trying to grasp any chance of survival you have left
but there's no ledge for you to hold onto
no safety net or parachute.
Just you and the open air,
accompanied by your constant fear.

This is depression
and I am falling every single ******* day
so don't ******* tell me I'm over-reacting.

Is it beautiful?
Or terrifying,
the way love can feel.

Raindrops drip from your fingertips,
only to imminently be evaporated
by the sun’s wave of smoldering heat.
Do you cling to those raindrops,
because you crave the touch on your skin?
Or do you wait for the sun,
because you crave the warmth beneath your curves?

I have felt the rain,
and weathered the storm.
I have danced in the warmth,
and soaked the sun beneath my feet.
Both equally making me feel complete.
Both teaching me things about myself I never knew.

It is beautiful,
to love.
It is terrifying,
knowing love can be lost.
But like the sun rises,
and the water nourishes
its merely unavoidable,
but necessary for growth.

Take my hand,
and let us walk in the rain.
Let the sun dry out the emotions,
flooding through my brain.
With the warmth of your skin,
and the storm of your eyes.
I will be fine.
I will be fine.

It took time to rewrite my past
in a way that looked pretty on a page
but everything-
just eventually
turned
   uncomfortable.

It feels
like i'm always
wearing wet clothes,
sulking because I tried to drown
these memories I didn't want at the surface.

But I needed air-
so they came to catch it with me.
They demanded a home inside of my world
  and so they put me under.

Now I'm clawing my way to oxygen
but this doesn't feel like
  just water anymore
  more sheet metal than surface.

Every move made
by anyone-
  myself included
feels like a weight.  

I keep fighting my way
to sanity and
I keep fighting
  to remove this memory.

but it says with me
and it screams
every time you touch me.

How will I ever be okay
with comfort?

How do I cope
with something
so adamant about
keeping me under.

These dark images
invade the back of my head.

It's not my fault
someone
  took away my childhood.

So why am I the one-
drowning?

take my open wounds and
slice them with the razor blade
that is your tongue and
make me wonder why I stick around.
I can’t help the hells I have faced
and I know what is true.
But you take my tragedy
and tie it to your train of thought
sending it to another place
so you don’t have to deal
or ever feel anything other than
your own ignorant bliss.
i told you in confidence
and got overshadowed by your doubt
and suddenly she became crazy,
which means maybe I am too
because I am a product of my
own inane environment
and how do I separate
from what surrounds me
when it’s all I have left.

I have dealt with the beer can
antics and the intoxicated ignorance
for far too long to just
push it to the back of my mind.
I’m not sure if you’re an *******,
or you have that much trouble
being an empathetic person.
But you will never understand the
tides I have faced or the hells
i have stumbled through
weak and unaware of what’s ahead.
I have been turned into nothing more
than a punching bag for misplaced
anger and a lashing tongue
for pent up aggression
and not i’m not sure if this
is making the wounds I carry heal
over with a skin thats thick as glass
or if the skin i am in is just withering away
with every word you speak to me.
I’m tired of the tragedy,
just give me some sense of normality.

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.

The magnificent burden, of a gentle touch
could it be I care too much?
could my actions lead to distractions,
and wind up backfiring on me?
I long for you as far as the eye can see,
but does my own vision deceive?
Am I blinded by lust and confused by love
or do my words mean nothing
because my actions mean everything?
The only thing we can hold true to us,
is sight, and sound and taste and touch.
But what happens when I’m just too much?
Am I what you bargained for,
or were you hoping for something more?

I have given bits and pieces of myself,
to everything I’ve ever loved
and taken back the same.
But what happens
when you end up forgetting
why exactly these pieces remain?
Parts of me, aren’t apart of me
and apart of me is missing.
Seems to me, what’s left
is just a puzzle with history.

So will you take me
in all of my glory, and sorrow, and despair
or will you throw away the security blanket
and tell me what I don’t want to hear?
Don’t tap-dance through my tragedy,
and try not to console my wounded soul.  
Tell me what you feel and fear
and maybe, potentially,
you could fill this hole.

The small of my back aches for acknowledgement
but you're too busy analyzing your mistakes.
My finger lays on the buttons I like to push
and they only push you further away from me-
but I can't stop feeling like it's on purpose.
These hands are made of copper and when mixed with fire
they burn bright, emitting hypnotizing colors-
blue, for the way I feel when I'm with you now.
green, with the greed I feel for not wanting to be alone
orange, for the jealousy of you no longer wanting me
red, for the thoughts of you no longer in my life..
They all interchange and take turns but somehow
this color chart of my emotions is on a spin cycle
and these sheets I have been wrapped up in
got mixed together with another load
and came out damaged and no longer like they were.
So I'm coming clean-
because my heart hurts, and I feel like I'm no longer yours
the distance between us when we speak
says more to me than poetry ever did.
So now all I see is red-

I wished for security,
in ways only you could
lock around my uncontrollable conscious.
I just wished for sanity,
inside your warm embrace
but you scolded me with your backfire,
and scorned me with your tongue.
The only thing I ever really need
is your action to yell down my throat
and jump my bones,
but your words are silent
and my bones are chilled.  
Seems my nerves have been shot
and you loaded the gun
So I grow weak as anxiety overwhelms me
whilst I sit on top of this mountain
of circumstance that’s been built for me.
I’m sorry I can’t control time,
or the way things workout for the worst
but maybe you need to realize
that you need me,
just as much as I needed you.

I turned my hands into fists again today-
spoke only through my fingers that
wanted to scratch their way through my flesh
and find their way up into my mouth
so I could say the words that have been haunting me-
but I kept quiet and let these hands do the talking
and as my grip tightened you could feel
the outline of where my flesh used to be
and how the skin curves around my nails once again.
I made the mistake of believing these words mean anything-
anything at all to you and as I read he passed away
those words joined with every other worry I had to face that day-
I froze up like love couldn't solve a single problem
like I had never ******* learned to talk in he first place
and everything I had tried not to worry about
crawled its way out of my fists and into my mouth
but the only thing that would come out is hot air-
and no words. Silence was in my face
like a ******* step-child who needed attention
so badly they decide to fake an illness
and you can't not sympathize with them
because you're so busy feeling sorry for them
you can't help but ******* pay attention.
My eyes paid attention to my mind and my fists
and started played a game of monopoly with my eye sockets
and I keep having to go to jail again and again and again
and you know monopoly that **** never ends
So it was just me and my fists and my tears
as I thought about the way you drank away your issues
and stole pills to cover up your hurt
and made me laugh so hard that I peed myself.
I realized you were empty and hollowed out-
there was nothing inside
and now you're just a container full of dust
and I'd like to think there's a purpose for you in the afterlife
but you'll probably drink away your pain there too.
i would like to think you're happy now-
and it's ****** up all your death makes me wanna do is
drown in a bottle when that's all you ever did when you were alive.
**** why is death so hard to deal with-
it's taking these fists of mine and wrapping them around my neck
until i learn how to deal with this entire ******* mess.
You had a heart attack-
and I would like to think that's because it was so **** big
your body couldn't take it anymore and just said **** this-
and you went out with a smile on your face
but we all know that's not how this works.
That's not how life and death works.
We don't know how or why life and death works.
It just does-
always has, always will.
I wrote my will this year and it goes as follows;
Give my **** to whoever fights the hardest for it.
You can forget my ******* name-
but remember everything I wrote down
because that's all that matters.
This, is all, that matters.

This cold makes my nose bleed,
turns my toes white and my fingers blue.

I'm having trouble coping again.
These times they take a toll on my insides.

This fear of everything is isolating me.
I have come to terms with inconsistency.
My limbs feel as if they are backwards
and I can't seem to stand up straight.

Everything I have come to know is different.
I haven't changed much, but I didn't stay the same.

Clinging to an absence because a presence will show it's face
and I'll be hanging by a thread again.

Talk me out of this isolation and seclusion.
Avoidance is the best tactic I know
so watch as I run away from it all.

But I'm still stuck inside this lingering chill
and wrapped up in this winter feeling.
Everything around me is frozen solid
and so I sit, lacking stability.
​
Nothing falls short but me and my expectations.
Since when is life so ******* daunting?

I am haunted by a faceless man
and he lingers in this winter air.
Oh what a shame to become this thing.

Oh what a ******* shame to become something
and be afraid of it all.

I am falling in love with isolation and lonely
it has been the only calm I have ever known.

Dissociation climbs it's way into my limbs
and I am a puppeteer at best.
My subconscious is pulling the strings
and I am inside a body I no longer recognize.

I try to remind myself of me.
But all I remember is a sad shell of a person,
a shadow just trailing behind.

I am wasting away inside of my own mind again.
I'm hanging from these frozen limbs,

my head's on backwards now too
and this past is all I see-
I can't seem to walk any other direction.
Frozen until I have seen it all.

Stuck inside an endless loop of
untying knots in my memory,
still trying to tie up every loose end.

until we meet again
the innocence I once had.

you make me better
though I am still bitter

spending days
soothing the burns
upon my hands

I had been
holding things
too tightly.

you loosen my grip
help me hang on
remind me
this isn't solitary

remind me
I am not stationary
or stagnant
just starting

continuing this journey
just like I had done
all the days before
this one.

but I am not alone
for you are the hand
that helped me
and held me

you are the grip
that keeps me
from falling too far
back into the same patterns.

I worry if I write
about the way
you have saved me,
you won't want to anymore.

that you will feel
your work here is done
and you will move
slowly on.

the progress
will regress
and time will
wither us apart.

I will try to hold my grip
but I will be too weak
and my hands will let us go.

you make me see
the fault in that

and laugh
at the cynicism
etched inside
of my smile

you make me
want to continue.

so I will fill up this page
and write all of this poetry
for you-

and not care
what happens
if I do.

I let my eyes screams the words,
my lack of guts never give
the wounded heart I carry
permission to.
Then I looked to you.

I carry on my shoulders,
the burdens of an entire lifetime
and a broken family.
all the while,
tip-toeing around circumstance
and on top of eggshells.
Somehow I grew.  

I have been held down
by unfortunate upbringing
and misconstrued judgments.
Brought up by books
and words painted across
a troubled canvas
making sense to only me.
Then I found you.

All that once made life
unbearable and unworthy,
transformed into
something worth saving.
Fearful became fearless,
and I knew of the one thing
I was sure didn’t exist.

I couldn’t see light.
Then I looked to you.
I knew not who I was,
Somehow I grew.
I didn’t know love,
Then I found you.

safety in my mind is a seven letter word
and you may not believe me now
as our bodies are caressing the hands of time
stopping everything in our minds
that could potentially break us both.
Or even when our heartbeats
are directly in sync with one another
redirecting the orchestra of years
that were spent misguided by the ones
who are the reason for our trust issues.
But baby it is you.

I can honestly say I've never felt this way,
because I've written a poem for about
**** near every person I know
but not as many as I've written about you
and my hands as they type for you,
are like a self-portrait for how I feel
except I can't quite get your ****** features right
even if I harnessed every aspect of your beautiful soul
bottled it up and turned it into a collage of color
it still wouldn't do you justice
and I know all poets write about love,
but see the thing is I don't know how to write about love
or if this writing is even right, or if my mind has just left-
because this feeling is far beyond any **** I've ever felt
and I am ******* scared...
but euphoric at the same **** time.

Like falling down and scraping you're knee
while you're running for the ice cream truck,
or like the monster under your bed reaching for your feet
just to give you a candy bar.
I feel like such a kid again.

And your eyes **** your eyes
warp me into a world I've never known
and whisk me off my feet faster than my ability
to even think of what to say in this next line
because I don't know how to make sense of this
and I'm not even sure I want to.
Because if I could explain it in words,
that would take away from the beauty
behind the rarity and the innocence of this madness
and everyone else would try to find it
and harness it into this little jar we call a heart
and live inside of it, never coming out again.

****, ever since my dog died
I thought I would never love again.
Ever since my first boyfriend in eighth grade
took my heart from my chest, polished it
and played hacky sack between him and my best friend
I thought I would never love again.

Looking into your eyes for the very first time
( and I think about this moment every day )
was the most scared I have ever been
mostly because I saw who I really was reflected in them.

Ever since every person of interest,
would leave me for another
I thought the idea of love was stupid.
and ever since I saw my parents
treat each other like ****,
I thought the idea of love was stupid.

But **** did you disprove it.

No one can take this away from me,
except for you.
So if you must take a piece of me
when it comes time for you to go
I ask it be the piece of myself
I saw inside of your eyes
that very first day
because the way you saw me
is the way you've always seen me
and a way that I've never actually seen myself.
I want you to keep that image of me  
because if you go you may never see it again.

I tried to find myself inside you. I crept my way into your bones and implanted myself into your memory, but it was never enough to keep the thought of you not being with me, off my mind. I tried to find myself inside you, but wound up looking into the mirror at a person I had never seen. You changed me, and I'm still trying to decide if that's a good thing. See these novels, to me, become defining characteristics of who I want to be and your eyes become an outline of what I have become. A broad reflection of all the reasons I should love myself more because you happen to. Well, I love you and if I ever had an idea of what was it, it is, well- you. You're it. Like, in a game of tag when you were seven and you felt invincible, passing the torch to another and running like your feet were on fire. I am engulfed in you. You are the flames beneath my feet, you are the fire in my eyes and you are the acid reflex in my stomach.. You are the anxiety ridden nights and the sore cheeks from smiling weeks. You are the months of complete euphoria followed by days masked with madness. My seconds with you, turn to hours and the acid from your kiss corrupts my lungs and leave me breathless, aching for nothing but your touch. The insides of my eyelids see nothing but your outline and though these words are just a mere outline of how I feel- I could never actually formulate into words the way yours linger on my skin, waiting until you *** again and again and again. It's ineffable. Unfathomable. I don't want to wake up in a world without you in it. But I have before, and I'm not sure if I can go back to living in a world- without your flames to keep me warm...

Every figment of my imagination has become
etched into the forefront
and it no longer hides in the back of my mind-
It is a painting amongst a wall I no longer own
every pigment of my thoughts for you has become
nothing but a dark shade of black.
You are nothing but a dark shade of black.
I let you re-paint me into something you'd like-
I let you take my hands and wipe them clean
as you painted me brand new ones.
I can't hold on anymore.
You were always a perfectionist-
who never really knew what he wanted
all you ever knew was it had to be perfect.
But I will never be perfect enough.
I have been struck by your razor tongue
as I take the mirror images to my own wrists
thinking I will never be picture perfect again.
You were always a perfectionist
but I am no Monet-
though I am just as beautiful
I will never be your work of art.
The pigments behind my eyelids
will eventually be filled with light again
and everything will be turned into
the shades of yellow I have desired all along-
you will no longer turn me blue and black
with the words that leave your red lips
I will not be your masterpiece-
I am already my own.

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.

I am suffocating.
The elephant in the room is breathing all the oxygen
and my lungs have become too weak to function anymore.
The tiles of my veins are cracked upon the impact
of your expectations falling on my shoulders.
I am no soldier.

I've been drafted into a war I didn't sign up for..
I guess this is another civil war,
and I wish, oh god I wish I could be civil
in a house with no chivalry.
It's only consequential severity
of your actions and reactions
even when you take no action at all.

I am not your verbatim bully.
You will not be the hands that turn my time.
Not anymore, not this time.
I'm done choking on the tongue
I spend my days biting.

Your words are like razor blades
calling for my wrists again.
No, not again.
No, never again.

The war will end.
I will unleash every amount of ammunition I have
onto your doorstep.
Death and me have the same address.
My wrath will end you-
and subsequently me too.

I wish people would stop telling me to get better-
stop letting my words lingering upon their minds
like these emotions I possess are even under my control
things aren't that simple for me.
I hid myself away for months on end
just to learn how to deal with myself again.
I became the only friend I ever needed.
I thought I fixed myself-
but the world was too much
and I had to resort to solitude again.
I wish people would stop saying it's all in my head-
I know it is but it's not something I can rid of
it's in my head which means it's apart of me
every single ******* day.
I wish normalcy was easy to come by  
and I wish these emotions I felt weren't so ******* extreme.
Nothing for me is just happy, or sad.
It's not just black and white anymore
it's shades of the gray and the off-white inbetween
it's dark blue and hints of purple upon a clear sky-
indigo tears on a white sheet of paper
they stain me, from the inside out and they stick.
Permanent marker etched upon my brain chemistry
there's no magic eraser to clean up this mess.
I didn't make this for myself
it was made out of nature and nurture
and circumstance and I stand here
holding my heart out to whoever will listen
just so they know this battle I'm fighting
isn't self inflicted, I didn't enlist myself
I was drafted into this war
the day I was cognitive enough of my emotions
I was shipped off.
Indigo heart upon my sleeve-
I just want someone to realize this side of me
Someone that will say I love you
and I will help you be happy.
I know misery loves company
but I'd rather be alone-
than bring someone down with me.
All I need is some understanding-
because I can hold my own hand in a time of need
but I need someone to tell me-
it's okay to be this way.
All I've ever been is too much
I want to be enough
show me I'm enough.

I have never believed in the idea of love-
it once tip-toed it's way into my heart
only to be thrown from my nervous system like acid reflux
the kind that pepto bismol won't cure.
Someone once tap-danced on my heart strings,
played that **** like a violin
so passionate about the way each and every movement
across the strings made me want to scream-
because they were playing the wrong things.
I knew who I was once-
maybe I was like 4 or 5 but I sure as **** was alive,
the days when trees had their own area codes
and the backyard was Narnia.
At some point between the "heartbreaks"
I lost it.
Then in you walked-
heart upon your sleeve like the latest fashion
and you kissed me.
I felt like I was a kid again-
the butterflies in my stomach began demanding refuge
it was a different kind of feeling..
I've always sort of had anxiety,
the crippling kind that makes you wanna throw up
but this, **** this was different.
I had never experienced good anxiety?
The kind you get after winning a big game,
or being in love..
I finally found it-
the love I never knew existed
but I still questioned it's authenticity
even as it painted pictures across my lips
and the butterflies whispering affirmation into my ears.
It's been a year-
and I'm trying to imagine the next one without you
because it seems to me that's what you want
But I can't seem to muster up the courage to be without you..
everything in this life has left me.
I hear the violin faintly playing in the background
and the tap dancers are coming closer now
the acid reflux has turned into regurgitation
and my heart doesn't know what to feel.
I've never had love for anyone
like the love I have for you-
I don't think it will ever go away.
I'm stepping on the edge, and it's begging me to jump
and usually the ground isn't too far
but without you, it's yards and yards away
and I don't think I can fly anymore..

I try to push it away,
the angst in my heart and my overwhelming desire to run-
run far away from whatever makes it hurt so much to be alive
and the only thing that makes it worth living
is being outsourced and ostracized
and I can't seem to shut out all the negativity that comes with it.
In the dead of the night as the sun rests easy on my side of the world
it is working twice as hard somewhere else
and the moon continues to remind me of that.
Resting is never in the plans for the sun and the moon
and the ocean and the sands
because the sun always rises and sets
and the seas always reaches out for you to touch it
and I think that's what we both have in common..
always wanting to be felt and seen and touched
just admired and appreciated
for these tides make the world a better place
and these hands make your world a better place
I don't mean to be bigoted when saying that-
It's just the light in my life was dim
before you went and changed me
and yours was scolding with heat
so no one would ever want to try and change it
but hands heavy, and fingers that have written about darker days
I took the chance and changed you anyways
and now our days spent together are filled with light.
We are no longer two dimly lit rooms-
because there is me and there is you
and together we make mountains
glow upon the sunrise
and darkness seems just like a distant memory.
My hands press these keys so vividly
like Beethoven and his symphonies
and moonlight drifts through the air
like a silhouette and we dance with our bodies intertwined-
because I am yours and you are mine
and this darkness doesn't exist much anymore
only on days when the mind that writes these words
can't think of ways to write the inner demons away
but I know when that time comes
and I want to drown in the seas that once saved me
I will remember you are here with me
and we can float together to make oceans
of what we have been through and just swim.
Just swim until we know we are at our destination
because we are no longer two dimly lit rooms-
we are spotlights and sunrise-
the florescent shine in your eyes
when you're awaken by a brand new day.
We will eventually burn out-
but worry not because when the time comes
we can change together.