i always relate more
to the songs about
not having someone
than having someone

yesterday my therapist told me that it didn't do any good for me to beat myself up over my anxiety. she told me that if i felt anxious that was my body's response to what it perceived as a threat and that feeling guilt and hate towards myself for the natural instinct of wanting to keep myself safe wasn't the right way to think about it.

does that apply to depression, too? or just anxiety? because i can't keep denying how much guilt and hate i feel towards myself for just feeling. or a lack thereof.

there's no way for me to deny it -- i want to die. that's it, there, i said it. i want to die. cue the part where i immediately regret saying it because every time i say i want to die people don't seem to think that's an acceptable thing to mention in passing conversation. and then the guilt starts. i shouldn't have said that, now they're worried, i'm just selfish for wanting an out. around and around and around. and the more i think the more i feel guilt and the more guilt i feel the more i just want to die because obviously i'm not a good enough person to be here and i really should just die because --

if i had infinite time i could let the sentences run on and on forever around in my brain without cutoff or constraint. i don't have infinite time and they still do. and they build and build and build until sometimes i feel like i'm just going to explode if i don't let them out. but if i mention it, even think it to myself, the guilt starts again. don't let anyone know. don't tell them, you're making a mistake. it's getting old here, they've heard it before. so maybe i don't mention it. so then what? then it hurts worse, stabs me in the chest and twists the knife around until i start fiddling with my own blades on the outside. if only i could cry. but i'm too numb to find tears inside.

if only. if only. if only. if only i could shut the guilt and regret and rage and anger and hate up for ONE MINUTE maybe i could use that minute to grab onto something besides what i've got now.

oh well. it doesn't matter. nobody's reading this anyway. it's just me for one second of not pretending. so hey, here i am, i've said it. if you've made it all the way down here, i'd like to introduce myself, because i made closer to the end and i'm not yet dead.

hello, nice to meet you, i'm b and i want death.

did you use your
credit card today?

does your card
have a chip?

in the time it takes
your card to process
i have ample time
to look out the window

i look out the window
a lot and i'm sick
of looking out the window
and if every time i
looked out the window
i wrote just one line of text
pretty soon i'd have a novel

i'd better do something
because i'm sick
of looking out
that same old window

Swim through
Darkness
Cling to stars

Swim through uncertainty
To a frozen lagoon on mars

Blue tails with
Silver scales

Pink hair
That drifts lazily

Eyes like diamonds that rain on Saturn
Fingers like Milky Way's
Rings like Jupiter

Hearts
Like the black holes
We're all afraid of

Vast
And terrifying
Unable to see
The inside
Without getting ****** up
Into mystery

it's been another year
my hair's a little longer
the soles of my shoes
a little smoother
scars a little
deeper

the dip in my mattress
goes further than
where i sleep at
night it sinks to
where i spend some
long days too

i mostly try to keep
my depressive
indulgences
to a minimum

(not that
it works)

but some days only
come once a year
and what better time
to feel sorry for yourself
than the date of
your own death?

i am the
crockpot
on the
counter hot
above my rubber
bottomed feet that
scrape when
you move me

something's bubbling
around my edges
is it soup
or discontent

how should i know
i'm just the crockpot

something's burning
on my sides
is it chili
or my confines

i can't tell you
i'm just the crockpot

leave me out on weekdays
say you need me
say i'm useful
to keep things warm
all afternoon
but before you know it
touch me and
you'll get burned

i've been thinking about
a second tattoo

this time
across my forehead

I KNOW I'M NOT
GOOD ENOUGH
SO DON'T *******
REMIND ME

and every time you
started talking at me

i'd point one *******
to my face and then to yours

but somehow i don't
think you'd notice