Everything makes sense.
Everything has been leading me to this moment.
Everything has been pushing me towards her.
The ups and downs.
Emotional breakdowns.
The break ups.
The first time I saw her stars lines up.
They pointed me straight to this girl.
I disregarded it.
Now I see.
I see what you were doing.

No one knew what is was like being unloveable.
No one knew what it was like being untouchable.
Not literally untouchable.
Just on the inside so stuck in the past that you can't breath.
Half of my panic attacks excist because of the past.
Past events that are out of my control.
And so worried about the future that I begin to lose hold.
So out of reach an untouchable.
I keep myself away from others so as not to feel the pain I've enflicted upon myself.

My anxiety is terrible.
It controls my every action.
I can't even have fun anymore.
Anxiety has me ******* under water.
Today it kept me away from my family.
It keeps me away from friends.
Away from people who try to love me.
Away from loud noises.
Everything is a trigger.
Everything kills me.
When I'm yelled at I cry.
People raise their voice I cry.
People are unrecognizable I cry.
Gun shot fires in distance I cry.
I have really bad anxiety.
And because of it today I sit alone at home.
By myself.
With no one but a blade.
Guess I'm the end it was my only friend.
Anxiety brought us closer.
So now I sit here considering od.
Considering starving myself.
Being buried a million feet under.
The waves beating me down.
No I don't think I'll cut.
Not Doing it for Emily.
Then again anxiety likes to think different.

This is where the heart lies:
softly in the hands of rhyme
and meter; we've made a shrine
out of syntax and code.
We tell stories and we sing songs
about life and love, and this
is where some of us grow up,
this is where some of us die a little
each day.

This is our home, not your playground,
so keep your fights
out of here.

I.

No, don't go now. Please
don't go now; the fog is creating ghosts
out of people and we're breathing clouds out of our mouths.
Tell me about that time when you held your breath
under the lake for six years and still survived;
tell me how if I do that, it'll never work.
I'm not a sea God
any more.

II.

My knees tell better stories than my tongue
ever did, please don't; wretched hive harangues
the mind in a plague, can't you see I'm holding you down
and telling you you're all I ever wanted,
you're all I ever wanted; your head is the stuff of dreams
you're all I ever wanted; you can put your arm
right through me and only feel mist;
I am fog. I'm creating ghosts out of you.

III.

Make it up to me in a rainbow of hues of grey;
at the end of it I'm holding my ribs open. I've never
been more colourful and sad at the same time.
You're the mirrors to my house; stay
has always sounded better than don't go

yet neither seems to work anymore.