I find my self searching for strength with sleepy eyelids

And I want to get so ******* in you, I will forget which parts are mine and which are yours
So that maybe if I surround myself enough in you, my heart will steady for long enough for me to feel significant
or at least  so my heart will steady for long enough so I can stand up straight, and look less scared

Sometimes I fill myself with so many unused words it makes me nauseous
and then my hands ache and shake from lack of use

the tips of my fingers are raw and red from plucking at dreams that feel too far beyond my reach
and it is getting hard to breathe

everyday this town feels like it is shrinking, and I am either to big to fit, or too small to be noticed
everyday this town feels heavier, and my shoulders are already exhausted from the dead weight of my head
this place makes my bones ache for air, my head spins wishing that I could put my soul someplace besides the bottom of my book bag
and I spend my nights dreaming of a future that feels four years too slow
I pretend that the stars are a skyline, so that maybe in my sleep deprived insanity I can breathe a little easier

So am I okay?
No I feel lost, and like shattering
        
           But you feel the same way too

               So maybe if we tell each other that we are okay now
                                         One day we will be.

one. dont read this one its embarrassing.
two. i just listened to three of my favorite songs and they made me think of you.
three. i want to be held by you.
four. i want to be kissed by you.
five. god, i should really sleep.
six.  i still remember when you first held my hand.
seven. yeah I'm lame.
eight. I should probably stop now
nine. it is too **** late
ten. pretend you didn't see this.
eleven. you make my knees weak.
twelve. whoops pretend I didn't say that
one.  please kiss me anyways.

i think maybe we've forgotten how to smile
because we are creatures of habit and we learn by example
and in a time when everyone is sad and depression screams out like sirens in the night
it is easier to mimic the tears

everyone told me that people would change
we'd grow up and grow apart and grow away
but i didn't believe them because i know my friends
(i knew my friends)
we were so close and we were so inseparable
on the days when things ****** they were always there
and i grew up and now everything *****
and they grew up and now nobody's there

if i expected change i definitely did not expect this

i was warned that growing up does things to people
now i'm starring in a horror film watching my life dissolve
in the hallowed halls where everyone else is thriving

being invisible is an amazing superpower
except when it's an accident

We are all fake
passing in the halls with a smile

did you hear,
have you seen?


shh


But that's it.
No meaning,
maybe a sharing of insecurities
but these are never understood.

We just judge,
and watch,
talk about others,
and talk behind each others back.

Will we ever just


                                                              ­      STOP






...and see what is going on here?

                                                          ­                                    We don't belong together


but there is no one else

I'm sorry
That I text you
At four a.m.
When
I
Can't
Breathe
Because of
Anxiety attacks.

I'm sorry that
I can't make serious phone calls
Or order at Subway
Around the corner,
Even though I know
I like thinly sliced turkey
And chipotle dressing.

I'm sorry that
I forget things like
Birthdays and middle names
And I'm sorry
That I don't know how to
Kiss.

I'm sorry
That you think
When I don't take a compliment
I'm fishing for you
To keep going,
Because in my rotting skull
That option
Isn't even possible.

I'm sorry.
So sorry.
That if you're
Nice to me
I will never
Ever
Believe you
Actually like me.

i am turning fifteen in a month and i have never done anything worth writing a poem about
i am awake night after night crying about the same words
about 'alone' and 'him' and 'high school' and 'the future'
but none of those things can keep a story going, none of them can form thoughts that make people feel things
there are so many words, and so many combinations of them that make me want to fall in love
real love, not this ******* lust that i feel for ideas of people that i make up in my head
i want to leave a legacy but i don't even know how to live a life that anyone would ever care about
i want to make art but i don't know what to do because i care so much about what people think
so i settle for staying up late and sleeping in late and staying home every weekend
i want to eat chinese food in front of the tv and climb to the roof and kiss a boy
i want to bury my toes in the sand and blast the music in a car and spend the night in someone's arms
but i don't know how and i'm scared and i'm not pretty or skinny or outgoing enough
it comes down to not being good enough or talented enough or strong enough
i've spent almost fifteen years not being good enough but everyone has told me to be myself
so i guess i'll spend another fifteen the same way

Steam escapes the surface
Of infant mince pies.
Spiralling upwards, it dances
Into the winter haze
Where headlights, opaquely visible,
Shine beams stopped short in the fog.

The mist flurries atop the frozen pond,
Over brittle leaves, half caught.
The deer nuzzles in frosty thickets,
Searching the winter veil
For stray nut.

Mittened song sheets conduct
a huddle of duffle coats
and frosted boots, rooted in the snow.
Sweet carols leave notes hanging
in tranquil harmony.

‘neath the tap my hands endure
The bitter cold of winter’s water;
But happily I return to my window,
And cast a gaze once more on winter Britain.
The fire leaves a smoky essence,
A homely smell.
December come.

"You are such a ******* child."

Nice try, my dear, but you can do better.
See, darling, those words mean nothing.
I am a child. If you asked, I'd tell you.

Can't you do better than that?

Don't you want to crawl under my skin,
set up camp in my head, tent stakes pounded into my brain,
keep me awake at night with a gnaw in my gut?

Try this, instead, love --

"You are a manipulative attention ***** who skips around wielding her emotions like an assault rifle without giving a thought to how that affects anyone around you. You've never had to work for anything, never once in your life, and the minute you do have to try at anything, you will fail. You'll spend the rest of your life looking for someone to take care of you, but you'll never actually let them and you will be alone."*

Isn't that better?