when people ask me 'what type of poetry do you like?'
i tell them that i like real poetry
not fake meaningless poetry with technical words that i don't even know.
i tell them poetry has to have EMOTION
and it doesn't have to make sense.
it doesn't have to rhyme, either.
poetry should be raw. it should be written when you don't think you have anything to write about
like that time you were lying in bed and thought of a single word planted onto paper to create a whole stanza, and then five stanzas.
find poetry in music. in the low guitar riffs and the drum beat. find it in the lyrics and the vocals. find words in trees. in lights. in a bottle of nail polish. in your first love and your last laugh.
find poetry when you fall and a stranger helps you up. find it in a busker at the train station. find it when you give that busker some money and find it when you see that the busker appreciates you. find poetry in poetry.

There is an overwhelming sadness washing over me,

I don't know how to surface,
            Or rid myself of this darkness.

A constant ebb and flow of numbness,
              Rolling, up and down my paralysed body.

I'm so sorry, I have wandered here again.

               Drag me out,
                                      Teach me how to breathe.

Perfume bottle of ecstasy
Broken glass covered in rose blood
Her body laying on carpet
Blood blanketing her corpse
She smelled like roses and death
Yet they say she smelled like me the most

It’s been considered—
maybe I wasn't meant
to be
what you'd call
“ladylike.”

Sure, the word—
it sounds pleasant enough—
the way it rolls off the tongue
with its pale pink sound
& its clean contours that
kiss the corners of the mouth
just so.

What girl
wouldn't want to be something
that pleasurable
to sound out?

No.

I don’t want to be something
so subtle.

I want to be the word
that's craggy and creased—
the word
that bites so hard
on its speaker's lip,
all other syllables
slip the mind
& they're left
with only mine.

I want to be the word
you remember
weeks later,
& silently repeat to yourself
when you’re alone with your thoughts—
the word
that feels so satisfying to say,
it's unable to be muted.

Yeah.

“Ladylike” won’t hold a candle
to that word
when I happen to find it.

its not the pain i feel each and every day
its not the loneliness that creeps up from behind
its not the darkness that surrounds me
its not the people who left me behind  

its not the sky, the birds, the breeze
its not my friends by my side
its not the voice inside my head
its not the fact that i tried

none of these things even matter
no one really cares
so why do you even bother
when you're not even there

dont try to tell me its what you wanted
dont try to tell me it was true
cause you and i both know
i was not meant for you

Give me a break
Just what can I do
When every thought and action
Stems directly from you

Get out of my head
I can't stand the doubts
I wish you were dead
I'm better off without

You
I know it
And you know it too

If only I had never, ever met you
Then this would be nothing
I'd be safe and sound
Living alone
Probably dead by now

Because I never could stand it
And you stand so proud
Jealousy, admiration, hope, and oh wow
No wonder I'm drowning
No wonder I've drowned
When this is my reaction to treasure I've found

Stay in the sand
I'll bury you again
I'm not your family
I'm not your friend
I'm just a man counting down to the end
12, 6, 7, 8, 9, and then 10

He lays there alone
each and every night
Mind wondering
Nothing going right

Light fading away
He loses his grip
Fighting the corners of his mind
Slowly beginning to slip

Heart beating slow
He fights for air
Now as he falls
His mind lost to despair

Memory now gone
Lost forever
The beauty he once knew
He will see never