I underestimate how draining it is to eat desperation without a sip of apathy.

A technicolor thriller movie hits me up the head.
It comes sneaking around the bright corners of my mind.
It breaks through the firewalls of pleasant memories.
It melts my thoughts into mush.

I give in.
My heads drop to my side and my nails begin to dig in to my palm.
Immediately I started toying with the dead skin on my bottom lip.
The winter has been cruel to my skin.

Each rip of dead skin feels cathartic.
I am peeling away my pain and discomfort.

My Flashbavk looms over until I am completely defenseless.
Which is one or hits.

I feel I am on a shaky old roller coaster that have up.
The ride attendee has side bye.
The silence is deafening.
My breath catches in my ears.

I wake up on the floor of the cold, wood floor of the living room.

I have no recollection of what happened.

I feel deattached and removed like a minor character in a big movie.

The star has just gotten hit by a track and the perky comic relief friend turns serious.

That is my flashbacks.

I am not as scared as before but I don't trust him.

I worry he'll come when my defenses are even more eroden.

I whisper the duas I learned in Sunday school to ward the ailments of my conditions.

I tell myself it's a just a test.
I put my headphones back in and resume listening to stromae, letting the tears take control.

It's all that I have known.

Saw an old man
Working at CVS
I bet his bones ache
I know the sight of the man
Made my heart break
Saw a kid on the way home
Sitting alone
He had a nose leaking blood
And arms crossed
Not to let anyone in
Cause I bet he was scared that **** would happen again
Got home turned on the telly
Two sides going at it quite heavy
But neither stand for me
They never did stand for me.
Wife comes home her feet
Are beaten up the shifts
Are piling up
I feel wild in love
Bite through barbed wire for those I love
But it's not enough
Empathy
I watch those around me
Pushed down
But they get up
If my cups full
I'd give half to you
Enjoy that half
Its not a gift
It's what you're supposed to do.

I have a crush
My pelvis throbs anytime anyone hot comes near me;
But this? It's different.
I feel your presence.
Your body? It's almost pulling me towards you.
You feel familiar.
Like past me was friends with you in high school in a parallel universe.
I can feel you staring at the side of my face sometimes.
I pretend to be casual.
I crack jokes and try to get to know you better.
I also don't wanna scare you off.
Last night, I checked out your Instagram by chance.  
Your joke captions nail the accompanying photo so well I want to kiss your forehead.
I want to hug your body against mine.
I want to trace kisses down your neck and warm my hands with your hands
I want to fall asleep strewn across your chest.

You are safe.

I
Love
You.

XVI

When I consider how my light is spent,
E’re half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide,
Lodg’d with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, least he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light deny’d,
I fondly ask; But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts, who best
Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly.  Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’re Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and waite.