let me lick the lipstick stain you left on your coffee cup
i'll do it subtly so no one will be alarmed
i'll lick it and enjoy the taste of your makeup
i want to taste you and all that you are

i want to watch you all the time
i want to see you at the moments you are most yourself
the moments that
you pretend don't exist
the 2am searches on pornhub
the you that hasn't left the couch for days
with your hand in a bag of potato chips

let me lick the chip crumbs from your fingers
let me put your finger in my mouth
i want to taste the saltiness you savor
i want to taste who you are
the you that you hide from others

i want you to call me a pervert
and slap me

i will kiss your feet
and lick the soles
tasting the salt and dirt
of all the places you've walked today

you will cringe and say i'm disgusting
and i will smile

let me taste the you
that is you
when no one else is around
let me taste the you
that is you
after a long day of work
let me taste the you
that is you
when you ignore me

i am the *** toy
that you
throw
under your bed
when someone enters
your room
unannounced
QUICK-
hide me

i am the cigarette ****
you smush into the ground
and try
to push away
with your foot
so your family
doesn't notice
your trash
QUICK-
hide me

i am the empty
alcohol bottles
from when you were 17
and threw a party
while your parents were away
quick
drive them to the
dump
before they get home
QUICK-
hide me

i am the girl
who you talk to
and hide from your wife
delete the messages
throw out the *******
silence
the phone
QUICK-
hide me

it's okay
i don't mind being hidden
so long
as you take me out to play
every once in awhile
i will tease you
from my hidden depths
lick
and beckon
until you take me out
in the comfort
of privacy
to fulfill
your pleasures

funny how
I lie to myself
and pretend
everything is
okay
getting better
when I am really
just shoving my
depression
to the side
ignoring her
and pretending
she is starting
to wane.

I am not
getting better.
I am still
hurting those who love me
and getting upset
when they speak
on how
I have hurt them.
it's like,
I know.
I know I am horrible.
I am stupid.
unthankful.
so why do I
keep doing it
why won't I
change
I'll wait
on these steps
in the cold
rain

the rain that earlier
seemed peaceful
relaxing
now to me
it seems
crushing
bearing the weight
of my faults
with each drop
that hits
pushing me
farther
towards the ground
until I am nothing
but the pile
of snot
tears
and rain

I want to be nothing
yet
I want to feel
love
and intimacy

why don't I just
give up
why don't I just
stop
talking
to anyone in my life
maybe
if I disappear
from others
I will begin
to disappear
myself.

I just want to cry.

every tear that falls
carries
a piece of my soul
that will drip
and fall onto the pavement
never to come back
to the vessel that is myself
again

hibernating
for two days
good morning
is at
4:30
in the afternoon.

let me hold you
while I hibernate
let me
wrap my legs
around you
become
one
with your body
our dreams
intertwining
into the same
cloud
above our heads

the same
cloud
above me
right now.
the drizzle
from our dreams
speckles
my head
the pieces of them
raining lightly
on me
as I wake myself up
with the afternoon air

let's run naked
in our dreams
soak
ourselves
in the rain
I always thought it
to be
relaxing

good morning

the soft,
farmiliar
fuzziness
of your blanket.
the humbling
wall art
comforting
house
a place
where you feel
safe.

the movie
starts.

walls
become tall
narrow,
you never noticed
the way the
darkness
lingers
in the far back corner
so that you
are never quite sure
of what
could be hiding there.

even after
you turn on the lights
you still
tiptoe
through the hallway
peeking
at every turn
swear
you heard something
swear
it's hiding
waiting to get you
scamper
to your bedroom
lock
the door
fall asleep
with the lights on

little did you know
it appears
when you are
asleep.
lurking
watching your every
toss and turn
waiting
for the perfect chance
to strike.

don't
close your eyes
don't
sleep
it will
devour
you.

sweet
release!
finally able
to get myself off.
maybe
the depression
is waning.
maybe
I am finding light
in the dark places.
never been more thankful
for ******
in my life.

as long as I can have *******,
if nothing else,
this life is worth living.
give me back
my lust.
that is what I will
steal
back
first.
lust is passion
getting
passion
back.
I will always live
with you

you are like
the racist grandmother
who I
am forced to take care of.
can't just
get rid of you
have to wait
till you die.
wondering
how
someone
something
so negative
could be a part
of my heritage
myself
oh, well
I have finally
found a way
to shut
you up.
tune
you out.

love you
at times
for making me
aware
of my flaws.
though
I will not
be consumed
by them.
I have strengths
too.

cheers to
the shred of hope
the light
I glimpse
as I'm trying
to find
my way out
of this cave
I've been lost in
for weeks.
the cave
of depression.
******
is the light.

laughing
laughing that
something so ridiculous
could have shown me
maybe
I am getting better
maybe
it's not entirely
all bad.
laugh
with me
***
with me
we will
get out
of this mess.

wouldn't call it
insomnia
I haven't even
tried
to rest my head
and sleep.
forcing
myself to stay awake
because the time
before drifting
asleep
is the worst.

it's easier
when someone
is next to me.
I could
hold you
feel your heat
against me
hug
you
cuddle
you

even though
I am small
being the big spoon
is my favorite.

craving intimacy.
but when
I receive it
I end up
pushing
it
away.

I used
to search
for attention;
anyone
to talk to
anyone
so I wouldn't
be alone
with my thoughts.
I've stopped
looking for
my
satisfaction
in others

"love yourself,
or no one
else
will,"
that's a lie.
others
can, and
will love me
but I can't
accept
that love
return
that love

it's just unfair
to them.

I don't want to fall asleep.
not
the sleep part
but
the falling.
the time with my mind
alone.
although I lack
an internal monologue
I still
feel.
my thoughts
are not words
they are
feelings.
when I write
I make them
words.
when I
am falling
asleep
alone
those feelings
are
unavoidable

wouldn't call it
insomnia
just
forcing myself to stay
awake.

wouldn't call it
an eating disorder
just
not making myself
eat.

wouldn't call it
addiction
just
the way I miss you
sober.

wouldn't call it
life
just
a tragic comedy
the
lament
of
me.

the star
obliviously
makes her
rotations
of life
around
the black hole
glowing
shining
fiery
pits of hell
if you get close,
but providing
warmth
and life
to her planets
that stay
far enough
away

naive
creature
born maybe
closer to the black
hole
than others
doesn't
notice it
as
out of the ordinary
anything
other
than her life

each
movement she makes
she will
be closer
to her destination
closer
to her destiny

took me
twenty years
of life
until I realized
the full force
of my depression

only when
she got close enough
did she realize
she was falling
into
the black
hole
that this
was what
wanted
her energy
her mass
herself
*******
pulling
with more force
than anything
she had ever
experienced

the realization
that her
entire life
was spent
waiting
to be devoured
by this
hell
oblivion
all she knew
was a
fabrication
never even
thought to wonder
what
she was circling
just
ignored
the glaring questions
ignored
the evidence
ignored
all of the signs
until
it was too late
to escape

event horizon

help me

i am trying
to gather
the momentum
strength
power
to get myself
outside
this point
of no
return
seems
impossible
seems
wasted
I won't stop
until I am devoured alive

I am the star
at an
event horizon

black hole
let me
free

"aw,
why don't you
smile!"
the man says,
looking at me.

"c'mon,
you old thing,
fly!"
the child says,
kicking the dead bird.

I'm not going to smile
to look pretty for you
a sight to see
a sight for sore eyes
I am not
a dog.

in my
abusive
relationship
my ex would tell me
every day
to clean his room
clean the basement
do the laundry
if i didn't
I was treated
like a bad
dog.
made to look at the mess
but
it was not mine.
many times,
when I did
my
job
it wasn't sufficient
"I *******
HATE
CLUTTER"

clean it yourself,
then.
but no,
I did.
even when
I didn't like you.
even when
I hated you.

when I was 19
at the bookstore
a man
told me to get him
a card,
could have reached it
himself
could have done it
himself
guess I misheard him
and got him the wrong one
"are you stupid?!"
in his thick
accent
"stupid girl
get me
a napkin.
throw it out
here,
throw it out
I said"

you can't be any
good at video games,
you're a girl.

you can't be
bisexual
you're just doing it
for attention.

you can't
wear that
and expect people to respect you
expect people
not to harass you
expect people
to think you're smart
expect people
to not think you're a
****.

IF
I am a ****
for being confident with my body
for being comfortable
with
my sexuality
for being open
about
my orientation
for enjoying
***
then yeah, I am
I am not ashamed
of any of those things
and they do not make me
less of a
human.

don't
tell me
to smile.
don't
tell me
what to do
or
when to do it
I will do
what I want
whenever the ****
I want


I won't
smile.
I will wear
tank tops
and makeup
and beat your ***
in every video game
make you feel
worthless
I will
speak my mind
have opinions
morals
I will
read literature
learn
educate myself
educate others
I will
have ***
with whomever I want
safely, but
without any shame

I will
be
human

never been happier
to be home
never been more miserable
to be home
throw
my bags of crap
material possessions
kick
the eternal
mess
that is my room
that is me
make a path
to my bed
lonely
twin bed
one
pillow
one
blanket
not much
but enough

enough to hold me while I cry
my blanket wraps her arms
around me
my pillow
lets me vent
I will pretend they are my friends
I have
no
friends

the ones
who would be the closest
thing to a friend
I have
do not answer the call.
do not answer the message.
it's okay, 'cause
I isolate myself
from them anyways
do not answer their calls.
do not answer their messages.
if I had any
remainder of myself
left in me
I would laugh
because
my bed is my only friend
and I am my worst enemy

writing.
write
down
the pain
devastation
realization
that this is what life is
it at least
feels like I am talking
to someone.
maybe
no one
but I am venting.

my tears
are sulfuric acid
they have melted my skin,
who I am.
right
through
the bone
scar tissue
weak tissue
tissue that will break again
I am no longer myself
I am the remainder
of what is left.
ugly
wrinkled
mess
unrecognizable
as human
I am not real
I am not a person
at all
just the
acid tear drops
that fall
and the scars
they have left

depression
is not crippling sadness
as most think it is.
well, sometimes.
it is
apathy
most of the time

who cares?
no point.
everything *****.

I lost my job today
cried, a little
but I cry about everything.
mainly
apathetic
now I truly have no reason
to ever get out of bed
sure,
I'll look for another
way
to live
but this *****
leaves me with no motivation

no motivation
to apply to colleges,
even though I have
a 3.9 GPA
no motivation
to hang out with friends
even though I am
lonelier than ever

no motivation
to eat food
even though I am
starving

after
I left my now "old work"
I had the impulsive decision
to rescue a dog.
maybe
if I have another creature
to look after
love
feed
I will start
to care for myself, too.

the shelter
made my heart hurt
the kittens
weren't crying
just
sleeping
in their jail cells
uninterested
in life
or their possible new
friend
looking at their possible
rescuer
with disinterest
looking
through their cage
like me.

finnegan
was a terrier mix
a stray
he was whining
licked
my hand
when I reached to him
eight years old
missing
his right eye
life has trampled him
yet he is not hardened
I cried
with him

as I walked him
around the play area
he sniffed everything he could.
curious
investigating
not crying anymore
just happy to be free
from the hell in his cage
he
treated the workers
with affection
like he treated me
with affection

it took awhile
until he came close
and cried while I pat him
climbed in my lap
and cried
I know
buddy

walked him inside.
the woman,
at the counter
looked at me eagerly,
"so?!"
I looked away.
can't
do it
not
today
I'm sorry

him and I
are both looking
for affection
love
a way out of this mess.
but
I can't help him.
no job,
no sure way I can buy him food
buy me food.
I can't
buy a living creature
out of impulse.

he needed security
I cannot provide that
only warmth.

I need to be happy
he cannot provide that
only warmth.

goodbye,
cutie
puller of heartstrings
I promise
someone better than me
will take you away.
not today

lost myself
lost my passion
lost my lust
lost my job
lost
my
soul.

the frustration I had
after failing
to bring myself to ******
for the
tenth
time this past week
makes me more
furious
than depressed

seriously
my *** drive
has always been high

as soon as I
got over
the shame
society places on women
for enjoying
their sexuality
I have always used
*******
as a release
relieves
stress
leaves me
relaxed
and
content

or should I say,
left me
feeling that way

usually
it was once a day
fairly frequent
but, it
matched
my *** drive's
needs

what the **** is wrong with me

I have tried
imagining,
watching,
reading,
looking at
every form
of erotica
that exists

I have searched
through everything
I can find
from
****,
******,
stories,
comics

and my search history
will let you know
that I've searched
everything
from
****
to
******
to
interracial lesbian forced *******
and things
worse
than that

e v e r y t h i n g

used to take me,
oh, I dunno
maybe three minutes
with my *******?

after
around an hour
is when I give up
now
I even bought
a different
*******
NO
RELEASE
NO
PASSION
GONE
what is
WRONG
WITH
ME

oh yeah -
depression

I mean
I knew it was bad
when video games
no longer
had appeal
that was enough

games
have been a passion
and a hobby of mine
since I was five

the other hobby
I started a bit older than five
but
you stole that one, too

after depression
beat the **** out of me
on Tuesday
I thought that was it
thought
since the next morning
I awoke
without the urge
to **** myself
it was over

nope

you have robbed me
of the simplest
things
in my life
that give me pleasure

no more
wriggling
moaning
spasming
the tingling
sensation
that starts in my toes
and makes its way
up
the length of my body
the warmness
that follows
with it
the
satisfaction
slight smile
snuggly
sleepy
post ****** me

I miss her
give her
back

I miss my life
give it
back

this isn't
ME
for ***** sake!

I am a ******
witty
humorous creature
full of passion
looking
for opportunities
to get myself off!
not this
depressed
apathetic
vessel
without soul.

you won't stop
until you have
everything
in my life

you won't stop
until you
put
my soul in your mouth
chew
grind
crush it

your saliva
breaks me down

spit me out
please
I am fighting
for you to cough me up
regurgitate
the essence
of me
let me put myself
back inside this body
please
please

no
you won't stop
you will eat my soul
until
ever fiber
protein
ounce of health
I had
is now
inside of you,
depression

cold-hearted *****

a forgotten cardboard box in the garage
filled with your childhood toys
after the basement flooded
my edges are soaked and moldy
and when you pick me up
I will break
and my stuffing will fall out.

the unfinished scarf I started to knit
when I was eight
and quickly disposed of
for something more entertaining

the dry, crusted ****
from my sister's dog that
consistently, and unfaillingly
is on one of my favorite shirts
whenever I come home.

the moldy cup of orange juice
that sat on the top of my dresser
at my dad's for maybe two months
when I was 12
that I was too disgusted
to clean and wash down the drain
so it just sat
until finally I just opened my window
and threw it as far as I could
letting
nature make something of my trash.

my best friend when I was 14
told me she didn't want to be friends with me
because her mom thought I was a ****
and because
I ate her french fries
without asking.
earlier that year she wet the bed
when she was sleeping over my house.
I didn't make fun of her for it.

the sheets with her ***** stain on them that I threw into the wash.

the paper towels I used to soak up her ****.

I am talking to you,
snake.
remember how
you hid your fangs
at first?
but it was not long
until
you sunk into
my flesh
trying to
****
away my positivity
away my compassion
away my warmth
use it for your
sustenance

you leech,
parasite,
passing as something human

not
any
more

when I think back on recent years
I am almost
thankful
to have met you.
don't for a second
think it's because I loved you
or we had good times
never
in a million years.
I am thankful
to have experienced
an abusive relationship
manipulation
codependency
the second I became
an adult.

I was not
an adult.
unaware
people like you existed
I did not stop being a child
until
the first night
you backhanded me
across the face
and with
the first slap
you smacked
my innocence
out of the window
never to be found
again.

you never let me
leave your sight
but,
after I lay
in a panic attack
traumatized
scared
of humanity
you told me to stay at "my" friends.
she was your
friend
not mine.

never trust
a friend
of the snake.

I came home early
you were in bed
with another woman
somehow
whenever I brought this up
it was never addressed,
never discussed,
instead
changed
and twisted
into something
that was
my
fault.

that didn't stop you
from accusing me
of infidelity
harassing me
about being a ****
when I was never
even
allowed to leave
the house
my hell.

I never for one second
loved you
nor was I ever
attracted to you
you
smelled my vulnerability
and went in
for the ****.

it took me months
but I left you.
you bawled
and shook
as you told me
you can't live without me.
******* die, then.
I had (have)
no sympathy
my eyes
were dead
cold
as I looked at you
weeping
like the pathetic
weak
waste of life
that you are.

I am thankful
because I taught myself
to be independent
to get a job
since then I have been
I will never
rely
on another
for my basic
necessities.
never
rely on a man
to give me
a place to rest
food
a shower
now,
I know where to look
in others
for the fangs
that you hid
from me,
from every woman
that has had
the displeasure
of meeting you.

I dont know why
I bothered opening
the first letter
you sent me
from jail.
told me
you know you shouldn't
have solicited
a fifteen year old girl
but you missed me.
she
reminded you of me.
now
I throw them out
without opening them.
that fifteen year old girl
is stronger
than you will ever be
for speaking up
and getting you
incarcinated.
she is
the reason
I support all other women -
specifically
younger girls.
I do not know her name
but
I know she will
be happier
than your miserable self
could ever
be.
ever.

I dont hate you.
I pity you
and your worthless
serpentine
body
slithering
covered in dirt
looking
for your next
vulnerable victim
to strike at.
when my dad found a snake
while mowing the lawn
he would chop off
it's head
with our largest knife
those animals
didn't deserve it.
but you do.
****.

I try to be kind
but.

it is Tuesday.
I am crying
smoking
alone
outside my work
I am quite obviously
trying to keep it
on the DL.
there's no
loud,
dramatic weeping.
if
I wanted a random strangers
fake
caring
I would howl like the wind

I
would flail my arms and legs
against the ground
kick
scream
make it known
that I want
your words that drip
with fakeness
and your selfish
motives.

"hey-
are you okay sweetheart?"
do I ******* look okay?
why is it
any of YOUR business.
old man
stranger
I am sure you meant well.
but believe me
I know that
anything "comforting"
on your part
will just be regurgitated
lines
that you read somewhere
or heard someone say once
do not
pretend to give a ****.
keep your
unwanted
unnecessary
words

like,
it will get better
(thank you, all seeing being of the future)
don't cry!
(******* and don't tell me what to do)
but you're too pretty to be upset!

so since
I am physically attractive to you
Am I not allowed
to feel?
I am prohibited
from having
any emotional depth
any
substance
that would make me
a human being.
you make me hate life
ten times more.

maybe that's somewhat unfair.
maybe he was only trying to help
maybe I should
appreciate that somebody
wanted to make me feel better.

no, he wanted
to make himself feel better
a pat on the back
so he can pet his ego
and make himself feel
like someone who is
real.
good.
kind.
I don't care
for your half hearted sympathy

*******
I don't want to be
something
that helps you sleep at night
that makes you feel
like you are worthy
of the things you desire
worthy
of the women
you ******* to
worthy
of devouring
the grilled
carcus
of what used to be
a living being
that is sitting in front of you
with a bow on top.
you are worse
than the animals you eat.
you are worse
than the spit
that I launched at your feet

which to you, was
"way out of line"
good.
think about why it happened to you.
learn from my spit.

my words of advice
to this man:
next time you are out
and you see a stranger
who looks sad
or someone
who is crying
silently
to themselves
leave them the **** alone.
if they're making a scene,
that's something.
but there's a reason
I was discreetly
crying.

you are not entitled
for me to share my pain
my thoughts
my feelings
with you
if I wanted to,
I would.
me spitting
at your feet
is nicer than any words
that would have exited
my mouth.

"You are not alone. There is beauty in sadness. Many run from it or treat it as something that shouldn't be. We need to feel sadness to feel joy. Your sadness is cold. Can it be made to feel warm?”

can it?
I am starting
to think
yes

realizing
everything you said
carries its own weight
in truth
without sadness
I wouldn't know joy

duality
is in
every part of this universe
from
the ever shifting
ocean
in my soul
to the massive star
we named
the sun
and
she shines
because of duality

massive
amounts of energy
bursting
pushing
to get out
the weight
of her being
crushing
pushing down
with equal
force

the suns
core
fuses
transfers
makes
something else
out of
what is inside her

her hydrogen
becoming
helium
the constant change
creating
something almost
stable
almost
predictable

one day
there will be nothing left
inside of her core
to fuse

one day
I will have nothing left
inside of my soul
to write

when there is no more
hydrogen
left
no more
passion
left
she will collapse
under the weight
of her existence

the pressure
of this alone
causes
more
change
heavier
elements
heavier
thoughts
she will swell
growing
larger
darker
intrusive
making us feel
her being

leaving us
with no where to go
but to accept
and to be
engulfed

after
there is nothing left
she will collapse
from
her giant self
overbearing
us and our neighbors
becoming
a fragment of who
she used to be
rotating
still
the passion
is gone
her life source
is gone
the light
lingers
until she has nothing left
her light
burns out
and
until time stops
she will stay
a brown
quiet
dwarf
all that's left
are her memories of
the life
she gave
to us

I hope
when it is my time
when my fuel
has become heavy
and when I engulf
those
around me
forcing
my deadly heat
onto
my
planets
that I won't collapse
into
a smaller star

into
a lesser version
of me

i want to be
big enough
that I explode
tearing
through what's left
with the beams of energy
I've stuffed inside of me

let my supernova
carry the dust
of the planet
you were
let me
push you elsewhere
farther
let me
bring new life
energy
hope
when I explode

and then
let me eat
anything
that gets too close
you will never leave
you are mine

there are
three states of matter.
three
states
of Becky

solid.
i am sturdy. i am
for the rare times in my life
responsible
respectable
hard
to crack
but if you do
I am like glass
i shatter
it takes a long time
to fix myself
I crumple
I realize
though I thought I was
indestructable
one short fall
on to the
rock
bottom
and I am
everywhere
a mess
a pain
to clean up
I promise
even if you vaccuum
I will still stab you
in the sole
of your soft
foot
when you are least
expecting me

turn the heat up.
I am liquid.
emotions
freely
move about within me
they are
controlling
my decisions
controlling my life.
I am
liquid
most of the time.
you cannot
break me
for I am already broken
into
tiny
molecules
of who I am.
I float
along
in my
state of being
rising
with the temperature.
who I am
makes me angry
it bubbles up
inside of me
popping
splashing
singing
hurting those around me

dont
get close.
dont
show me your skin.
your real self.
I will burn you
when I boil
I will hurt you
stay
away
even though
I ask you
not to leave

my gasseous state
is nothing at all
numbness
i feel
less
than air.
less
than anything
that exists
at all.
I drift
through life
but I have no weight
no passion
nothing
just
a reminder of what I was
who I am
the people I've burned.

the scars i have left
hold more of
who I truly am
than the me that
is myself
in this state.

the smell
is the worst
potent
dank
lingering
long after
I have begun to form the moisture
on your upper lip

you will lick me off
swallow me
please
don't wipe me away
let me
inside of you
I won't hurt
you
anymore
I promise

once I get
the writing juice flowing
it never stops
pouring
over me
into every part
of my life
every conversation
I find myself
making art with my words
or, trying to.

literature,
specifically poetry
has become an escape for me
instead
of substance abuse
or video games
or seeking
attention
I write
my thoughts down
make them
real
take them
by the hand
guide them to the door
and close the door on the way out.
but
I love
watching them leave.
it is the best part.

poetry
is the woman for me.
I have been waiting
for her
searching
for someone
who calms me
pleases me
inspires me
for what seems like my whole life
and we have finally met.
I will hold her close
I will love her
and I will
explore her body
with all of mine
caressing
her smooth skin
with my fingertips,
my mouth
my tongue
I will taste her
and savor it
I will appreciate
all of her curves
and beauty
the flaws, too
she never leaves me unsatisfied
I promise
to never leave her
I promise
to appreciate all of her, always

I never was keen
to the concept
of an open relationship
but she has me experimenting.
I am content
if she sees others
and lets them
appreciate
her delicate, perfect body
the way
the ***
is better than anything else
I would have expected
I'd be jealous
but poetry
is always surprising me.

I have not found
another
I want
nor desire
more than her
but should I ever,
I am allowed
to explore their bodies
as well.
as long as
at the end of the day
she is the one I fall back on.

I have always had a crush on her.
when I was 15,
I tried flirting
but
gave up
when I saw
how others wooed her
so
much
better
than me.
it took time
for me to get enough courage
to try
for her love
again.
she never left me.
she has always been here
waiting,
with open arms
for me
to fold into her embrace
and touch
her *****
making me see
contentment
in her eyes
as they roll
upwards
and she arches her back
in pleasure.

it is
and never will be
better
with anyone else
besides you
babygirl.
you give me a reason to live.
beauty
to this life.
my
wife

after I stomped on your heart
and smushed it into the ground
so that the pieces of it
smeared
like graffiti
I then
spit on it
and laughed
and kicked the little bits
that were leftover
into
the drain

so
why is it that
you still won't let me
be alone
when I am depressed?
why do you still
offer me your arm
your company
and conversation
when everyone knows
I deserve none of it

in a way
it makes me hate myself
even more.
like hey,
you totally wrecked
this really awesome
and kind person
hurt them in ways
physical pain could never match
but they still
offer you comfort
and warmth
and somehow
can accept
what you caused them.

maybe,
it's because I was finally honest
when you confronted me
with evidence.
maybe
it's because
I poured my miserable soul
into a glass
and let you drink from it
so you could taste
my depression
and realize it was not your fault
all of it,
everything,
was mine.

I know I've told you
how much I appreciate
the company
and acceptance.
if I were left alone
with my thoughts
I wouldn't be able
to stop crying.
even if we aren't speaking
even
if I am writing
and you are playing video games
your presence
relaxes my anxiety
and silences my depression.
without trying,
you pop a pacifier
into their mouths
and finally,
they stop crying.
I stop crying.

you are a friend
to me
when
I don't deserve it.

you are a friend
to me
when
I need it most.

dont ever stop.
do it, when you're bored,
when you're sad,
lonely,
or *****
don't stop.

save all of them.
keep it somewhere
safe
when you grow
a bit more
you can look at them
and watch
how your writing matured
as you did
too.

this world *****.
like, 95% of the time.
know you are beautiful.
know that there are
hundreds of people out there
who would worship the ground you walk on
so if
someone tells you different
know it is just their opinion
one
out of
billions of others.

know that if you suffer,
you are not alone.
but,
just as importantly,
know your suffering is unique
and just as important
as anyone else's.

put yourself before others
but consider others
while doing so
if you are jealous,
understand
that it is admiration
and as much as that person
may be everything you wish you were
they are not you.

you
are also me
I wish I had someone to tell me
when I was younger
that life is really ******
a lot of the time.
but that there are things
that make the shittiness
worthwhile.
feed your passion.
don't let anyone tell you
you can't do something.
because you
can
at least
try.

your thoughts
matter.
your opinions
matter.
you
matter.
if someone tries
to belittle them
because of your lack
of life experience
let it
inspire you
to prove them wrong.

be yourself
share yourself
with those that deserve it
blow
the seeds of who you are
into everyone you meet
they will grow
watch them grow

you
matter
because you change
every person you meet.
you are an important piece
to the puzzle of life
and one day
you will find a place
that you belong
with other pieces
who fit your edges
perfectly
and who stay close
and comfort you
and who recognize
and appreciate
the beauty
of who you are
like I do.

life is strange.
I wonder frequently
why I am conscious
did the me that I am
spring to be out of
nothingness?

"energy cannot be created;
nor destroyed"

what was I, then,
before I became me?
sometimes, I daydream
and imagine
that before being born into this hell
I was just beams of enegy
shooting out
from a supernova.

flying
past
star systems
and
comets
and nothingness
being almost nothing
no
consciousness
not yet

that is just
a daydream.
I am not religious.
but
the concept of heaven
seems pretty ******
to me.
bliss, ****
I don't want
eternal
anything.

I would get used to it.
living in bliss
would become normal
even if
it is a stark contrast
from the way
I am living right now.

no,
personally,
my idea is that
when I die
my consciousness evaporates
my soul becomes
what I was
before me
and I no longer
have thoughts,
or emotions.
that used to scare me.
it's not frightening,
because in nothingness,
you have no concept
of frightening.

you also have no concept of happiness
but none
of sadness either.
no embarassing memories
or boredom
or headaches
or being sick
I won't even
be able to miss my dogs
for I will have no concept of them.

I am not scared
of death
nor
nothingness
I welcome them
but will wait
until I get an invite.

one of the biggest questions
that used to plague me
was
why does anything exist at all?
I don't think there's an answer
as to why.
I think it just does.
and existence
means
experiencing
all of it
the happiness,
the *******
the anger
and depression

duality
is in
everything

I am not horrible
well, in some ways
I am
but in an equal amount
I am also
wonderful
and the same goes for you,
too,
though I see
each side
of the duality of your being
as something beautiful.

you have said
a few times
that you aren't working here
to make friends.
well,
we may not be friends
but you have helped me
more
than many of my friends
ever could.

I'm sorry -
for being late more times
than anybody can count.
I'm sorry -
for having difficulty
doing my job well
believe me,
I know it is not difficult.
I'm sorry -
for slacking off at times
for underpreforming
fairly frequently.

I always thought
you were supposed to hate your boss.
the people
who trained me
painted you in this horrible light
made me
think I would hate you
that you were unfair
cruel
and
not understanding in the least.

I know
you don't care
what those losers thought.
nobody does.
they ****
have horrible judgement
and I wouldn't hang out with them
if we were the only people on earth.
but
if I ever get the chance
I will curse them out
for saying those things about you.
actually
I will curse anyone out
for saying anything bad about you.

thank you
for giving me a safe space
for showing me that work
doesn't have to be a place
where my anxiety comes too.
thank you
for not treating me like a child
for being honest, even if it may
seem harsh at the surface.
thank you
for giving me more oppurtunities
than I deserve
and
for showing me
sometimes, not giving a ****
is the best and only option.

thank you
for introducing me
to my favorite authors
and for being a catalyst
that inspired me
to write again.
it does help.

I'm bad with words
and my vocabulary isn't large
and I'm bad
with talking about
how I feel without crying.
but I want you to know I appreciate you.
if there was a What Not To Wear show
but for like, jobs and homes and stuff
holy **** I would sign you up.
you deserve so much more
than the bookstore.
you deserve to be waited on
hand and feet
and have whatever the ****
you desire.

whenever I stop working here,
or if you need to let me go
just know
I will always hold you in the highest respects.
always.
I am also
always
a phone call away
if any of your enemies
need to be slain.

we might not be friends.
that is okay.
but just know
even if you hate me
or think I'm boring
or lame
or annoying
I don't care
I still love the **** out of you
and every part of who you are.

when I was younger,
when I felt low as I do now
I would lash out
try to hurt others
try to make them feel
the pain I felt inside.

now,
when I am depressed
I try to be as kind as possible
to anybody
who treats me nicely.
I dont want another soul
to have to experience
the pain I feel inside.

every kind, honest word
anyone has ever given me
resonates
inside my hollow chest
I think of these words
when I am feeling down
sometimes,
I repeat them to myself
to drown out
the negative voice of anxiety
that is screaming
all of my faults.

I
would suffer in my depression
alone,
and eternally,
without a second thought
if it meant
that other people
would never have to feel
the pain I feel inside.

I want to tell you,
you have value.
your life
is paramount.
you are beautiful
even if you don't see it
even if others disagree
if you are feeling low,
tell me.
I will send you a message
of every beautiful thing
about you.

and yes,
you are loved.
even if you feel
nobody loves you.
even if
nobody else loves you
I do.
I love your personality
your face
your flaws
they make you
exactly who you are
and,
I love your existence.

I may hate myself
but I refuse
to take it out on others.
let me be your escalator
get on my back
and I will lift you up
to a higher destination.

no one,
besides me
deserves to feel this low.

I don't even know where to start.
yesterday, I wanted to die.
today, I don't want to **** myself
but
that's not to say
I'd be upset
if something else killed me.

living with depression
id say
is just being a realist.
its not
some voice in my head
telling me I'm worthless
it's realizing
that unless I'm on drugs
my entire life
will consist
of
never having enough money,
never loving myself,
never loving living
how can anybody love living?
like, is my life a satire?
why am I attached to this consciousness
I didn't ask to be here
destroying
this planet
and myself
and others
while watching every other human
do the same.

when I was younger
when my family went out to eat
my mother would have to
use menus to divide
the table
so that my sister and I
would stop disrupting dinner.
we would make faces
and laugh the whole time
and be really rude
and loud.

my sister is my depression
I am my anxiety
and my mother
is nowhere to be found.

they rile each other up.
my anxiety
gets excited
yelling at me
telling me all the ways I'm horrible
all the people I have hurt
every
bad thing
I've ever done
my depression
chimes in
and says
"how about
how you pathetically
seek attention from everyone
while
being in denial of it.
do you think that if,
a thousand other people
tell you they like you,
and that you are beautiful,
you will believe it?
how pathetic."

that
takes anxiety on a whole new ride
with a billion other reasons
on how I'm pathetic.

yesterday,
they were louder than ever.
closing my store
took every ounce of effort
I had
and it's a simple job
reflex memory, even
I was reaching
far down inside of me
for the strength
to not crumple into a ball
and cry
until the custodian swept me up
and threw me away
with the other trash.

I talked to myself
telling myself

"you can do it,
you can do it,
there you go!
good job, almost there -"

"look at how pathetic you are
have to talk to yourself
like a ******* child
to get yourself to do
the most medial -"

"NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.
SHUT UP. NO.
SAVE IT FOR LATER.
BEAT YOURSELF UP
LATER
BECAUSE RIGHT NOW
YOU ARE DOING
A GOOD JOB"

afterwards
I cursed myself
for judging
any crazy person I saw
muttering to themselves
because now,
I am the crazy one.

my fourth favorite poet
Andrea Gibson
said,
"I thought I hit rock bottom -
but then it hit back."
same, girl.
I can't fight well
but I will try
to deflect these punches
as best as I can
until I can get my legs
to finally run away.

i feel sick
more sick
than i have in a long time

and i don't just mean
with myself
though
that sickness
is ever present
i mean
the back of my throat
feels like donald trump
cut off his *******
and shoved it down there.
and
my head feels fuzzy
and full
of water
like vertigo
without the dizziness.
i am cold
but i am not cold.
yet to me
the way my body feels
finally matches
the way i feel
inside

i need to finish closing this bookstore
i need to go home
to my bed
to my family
to people who love me
but this bookstore
is the only place that feels like home
besides inside your arms
in your bed
which, metaphorically,
i shat in.

today
i googled
how to buy cyanide
and got angry
at the website
for not giving me better directions
on ******* myself.

sometimes
there are people who enter your life
for whatever reason
and if god were real,
they would be angels.
one of them
today
gave me a reason to live.
he told me to keep writing
and i did
even if it's just me
typing
with tears streaming down my face
but it helps
it makes me not feel so alone
it gives me something to do
when i am lonely
and when i don't feel whole
instead of searching for my own inner peace
in strangers eyes.

the second angel
i met today,
they left a comment
on a piece of my writing
telling me
it brought them empathy,
and understanding
to a negative part of their life.

now, if i am a horrible person
and i don't see a point
to life
to being in debt
to being depressed
to hurting others
to hating myself
and everything around me
well, it makes it all worth it
if ridding this negativity
through words
can somehow
bring positive light
to somebody else.

somebody better than me.
i will write
and i will continue to write
until i die
from either somebody killing me
or natural causes
i will not
take my own life
not for the sole reason
that it would actually break my mothers heart
and she is too kind of a person
to deal with that
but because
my pain
becomes someone else's
closure

because
negativity
can become positive
if you transfer the power.

because
music
art
and
literature
are the only things worth living for
and the only things
that anyone ever
needs
as a reason to live.

thank you.

"i'm sorry,"
doesn't quite describe
the feeling
inside me
after hurting someone
who honestly, loyally
cared for me
and my well-being

someone who could do that
when i couldn't even try.

"i'm sorry"
doesn't get the point across
that i broke
something so pure
and it wasn't even an accident.
it's not like,
i was unaware
we were exclusively together
when i reached out
and flirted with other people.
it's not like
i was oblivious
that we were monogamous

i still proceeded
to throw the heart you gave me
onto the ground
and stomp on it

my too-kind boss,
says it's because
i am depressed
and it was an effort of self destruction
destroy,
the only light
in my life
destroy,
our love
when you were the only creature
on this planet other than my mother
to truly care for me.
destroy,
knowingly,
secretively,
hiding
where we stood
where i stood
leaving you
waiting
in this downpour
with the impression
i would be right back in five minutes
but really, i was already on my way elsewhere.

i wish life was easy.
i wish i was a simple individual
i wish
i knew how
to love,
and be loved
without subconsciously trying to **** it up for myself
maybe it's because i believe i don't deserve it
maybe it's something more shallow than that
i wish i had reasons
for my depression
just like,
i wish i had a reason
why i crushed our relationship.

if i were to be selfish,
i would beg you
to take me back
beg you
to cuddle me
and spend the night with me
giggling
and holding each other close
i would tell you,
it will never happen again
that it was a dumb mistake
and please give it one more shot

but i love you
so i can't do that

instead,
i will deal with the bitter loneliness
that i created for myself
deal,
with the fake caring
the forced attention
pretending to be
somebody i'm not
for admiration
when you
were the only person
to love me for who
i actually am.
was it worth it?
no.
attention,
and lust,
is not love.

i know you wouldn't
take me back
even if i got on my knees
and begged for your forgiveness.
you are intelligent
and you respect yourself
and i will refuse to do that
because
on the off chance that you do
i know in my heart
i don't deserve it, not even a little bit

i'm crying as i write this
but i've gotten really good
at forcing down tears
and making my voice sound normal
to tell the man
i'm checking out
to have a nice evening
and i break down in tears
as he tells me
"keep the change, ok?"

no matter how i try
everyone
can see i'm broken.
i don't deserve
your kindness
your love
nothing at all
from anyone
not even
eighty-nine cents

The rainbow
Of you and me
Would start with white.

"But Beck -
white isn't a color
it's the absence of them,"

Before I told you
that I loved the way
your words flowed across the page
we were whiteness.
You: oblivious to my existence
doing what I imagine
as respectful activities
of a father and husband.
Me: in a nineteen year old haze
loving a soul passionately,
playing video games, while discreetly
******* to your novel.
Which reminds me -
if you ever write erotica,
(you should)
please include the *****,
naughty,
gritty details,
that make my body rise and fall;
that make my wings flutter
in fleeting ecstasy.

We passed yellow
awhile back
intrigue, curiousity
you told me
you would never cheat
you can't help it
that you want to see people naked.
Lucky you -
I adore
showing you my naked body;
I touch myself
and reach my peak
to the thought of your eyes
caressing my curves,
your gaze
pinching my hard *******
as you explode
on my pixelated body.

I may have left you behind
as I reached green
a few weeks ago.
that's okay,
cause this place is a garbage dump.
envy
of the woman whom you belong to
who can feel your skin
who gets all of your words
all of you.
that's okay,
'cause all I really crave
is your body,
anyways.
I want your thickness
in me; but
I've said that enough times.

You've spent enough time here
Please wait in the car
I'm not the me you like
When I'm drenched in blue
Anxiety and
Self critique
Has brought me to be
Drowning
In depression
In my self loathing
I make pit stops by blue
All the time, it seems
I never leave
Used to be once a month,
Then once a week
Once a day
All day.
Days go by and I cannot breathe
Engulfed
In the blueness of never
Never have been
Never am
Never will be
Happy
Or
Satisfied?
I see your hand
And grab on
You pull me from the murky depths
You buckle me up
And drive us
To

Orange
Craving you
I want to know how you taste.
The budding sun
That rises
The daylight
The hand that pulled me
From the dark blue
Affection, a bit, but
Mostly
Intense lust.
**** me in orange.
Pull my hair until I scream
From the pleasure
Of feeling you inside me
Of you
Clawing
At my back
Orange, is just a vision
of ecstasy
close to the suckle enchantment
Of red
Deeper than
The innocence of yellow
I am writing this in orange

But I want you in red
All of you
The taste of passion
You've been teasing me with
I want it all
Spank me red
****
Me
Red
Make my sore
Tight
Passage red
From filling me until I collapse
I know you will never
Leave me unsatisfied
I am your pet
Of pleasure
Of anything you desire

Empty into me
With purple
Collapse onto me
Your satisfaction
Gleaming
Deep
Pure
Evil
I will massage you
Work away the stress
Of your successful
Life
Wash it away
In purple
Wash me away
In purple

"If you dont like the weather in Boston,
Just wait a minute"

last night
it was seven degrees outside
my teeth chattering
holding my body
for warmth
as I waited for my taxi
to arrive

the hail
felt like it was tearing my face into pieces
with every ice pellet
that hit my skin
I felt was tearing
pieces of you off my flushed,
warm cheeks

now,
it is morning
I havent slept.
my mind has been occupied
by you,
and lust filled fantasies
of you
inside of me
filling me until
I could burst

it is morning
the pellets that lashed me
violently
and landed in a soft pile
outside my bedroom window
are melting

I see the sunrise
the day
meeting the night
in a lustful embrace

if our bodies ever meet
I promise to make your sun rise
and then erupt
in a beautiful display
of spicy red
with hints of purple
to leave on the hotel sheets
a reminder
that tomorrows sunrise
is just a day away

you may be colorblind
but I will show you red
with my tongue,
my mouth
my lips

believe me
I will show you
color
how it's meant to be

you cannot
be at the summer cookout
eating chips, with my mom’s
famous
seven layer dip
and say
“i just want the beans, thanks”

while with your ***** finger
you push off
the - delicious, might i add -
4 cheese mexican blend
wipe off
the sour cream
onto the side of the dip bowl
pick
the strands of lettuce
off of your Tostino’s Scoop

before you are satisfied enough
to savor that bite.

no. you will take your chip
and you will dunk it
and get a piece
of every single layer
you cannot pick and choose
which ingredients to eat
out of a dish
that has already been made

but this is not the family cookout
this is oppression.

this is to all my women
who support gender equality
and claim to be feminists
yet belittle and dehumanize our
transgender sisters.
one less safe space.

this is to all my white people
who believe in LGBTQ rights
but are "all lives matter"
and the moment someone brings up
racism,
you tell them racism doesnt exist.

this is to my best friend,
who is an activist
of ending all of the above.
yet, who pulls my sleeve and says, “look
how fat that woman is
i can NOT believe she went out in that.”

you cannot pick and choose
when it comes
to
equality.

you can not
eat the seven layer dip
and go for the beans
while ignoring the rest.

accept.
acknowledge.
listen.
change.
try a bite of the dip
with all the seven layers
i promise
it will taste
even better
than before.

“i dont want you to think
im only talking to you
because i find you ****”
well, you are
and you and i both know it
because im ****
and because i liked your writing
and cash and *** cells
sprung your mind
to initially reach out to me.

now maybe there is more
but finding me ****
and then actually ******* doing something
about it
are two entirely different things

i want to feel you inside of me
i want to arch my back
as you **** the hell out of me
making me see angels
and moan your name.

but no -
i will only taste the idea of that
the glimpse of passion
of lust
of what i want
to be ******
how i should be
fidelity
prevents you from moving forward

now maybe my opinion is bias
but unless cheating
is the strict definition
of skin to skin
skin to mouth
mouth to mouth
mouth to lips
my ***** lips around your ****
then you, my dear friend
have already been cheating
for about two months

maybe i just crave you
and by telling you
that the highest scale of flirting
is still cheating
you will say **** it
and just come to me
and **** me senseless.

maybe not.

i hope
she
continues to satisfy you
as much as you have been
to where
youve been reaching out
to others
to get that satisfaction

i will still
sell the **** out of your books
i will still
tell people
your writing is beautiful
and timeless
and that you are
an amazing person
i will still
refuse to eat meat
though i thank you
for helping me make that decision

you are still
my second-favorite poet
the first one,
is a much bigger **** than you
and hes never even been
in a single one
of my
wet fantasies.

i wish i could only see in monochrome
like you
i wouldn’t have to witness
the way the blue of my eyes
have seemed to achromatize
ever since
i stopped feeling rapture
for existence.

i wish i could only see in monochrome
like you
so i could avoid
the redness of the callow faces
that drift by me each day
the flush of their cheeks
filled with hope.

it makes me envious
for their sanguine blush
is untouchable to me.
i only flush red
with anger.

i wish i could only see in monochrome
like you
did you know,
our eyes are the same tint of blue?

the female sparrow
never seems to be satisfied
with just one lover.
she ***** them
then gets bored
and moves on to the next
sparrow
who can give her what she wants
maybe she seeks
diversity
because she has low self esteem
maybe she seeks
entertainment
because she is depressed
maybe she seeks
multiple lovers
because the moment she gets what she wants
she becomes bored
and she sees too much of them
and its no longer a mystery
i am the sparrow
with a multitude of men
i keep by my side
yet none of them love me
am i looking for love?
or a distraction?
i can tell you this much
valentines day
*****
for both the sparrow
and me.

this child is screaming
like somebody has grabbed him by the *****
and told him his wife cheated on him
on their anniversary.
and she’s been cheating on him
for two years
meanwhile,
getting mad at him
and causing fights
over him watching ****
and the history of him viewing
“hot teen **** loves ******* ****”
but she’s been getting ******
by his best friend
for two whole ******* years.
and his friend
was the one to tell him this.
he is heartbroken
and miserable
he feels like his entire marriage
and life has been a lie
married to this sick *****
who's been keeping him around for what reason?
it’s not like they have kids
they have a cat,
but they both know he’d probably let her keep it
without much discussion.
so why the ****
did she keep him around
if she’s been getting dug out
by someone who satisfies her
so much more?
that’s the kind of noise
that’s erupting from this babies mouth
i want to walk up to him
and tell him to **** it up
that life always *****
and he’ll have to learn it
sooner or later.
if this is ******* me off
so much
imagine how the *******
parents feel.
i would have drowned it
by now.
this is why
when people
tell me i’m a sweetheart
i laugh
because they don’t know
what goes on
inside my mind.

Shine for me,
you useless lamp
it's apparent your light has gone out.
Without this light
you have no purpose
and your importance I'm starting to doubt.
I sit here
and demand luminescence;
but this you no longer provide.
Without this, my eyes
cannot see this room's beauty
and the obvious begins to hide.
Why are you broken?
You stupid lamp.
I might as well throw you away;
when all you must do
is glow for me
and you can't even do that today.
I'll tighten your bulb,
even buy you a new one -
yet you still refuse to turn on?
You pointless lamp
I shattered you to pieces
then I realized
you were never
plugged in
all along.

I am a bird at the bottom of the sea
I am under a rock and wish to be free
Sometimes my anger turns my soul red
I hate this place and wish I were dead

I'm still waiting for a point to this life

I look at the stain
My period has left on my favorite *******
And hold them in my hand
As I contemplate what to do with them.
I can try to get the blood out
But the stain will still linger
A reminder that I am only human
And ******* is natural but -
“Dont talk about that,
Thats so nasty.
Maybe that's why
You've been such a *****.
Typical FEMALES”
I am gross for being a woman?
Men worship my *****
But the moment I bleed
It's as disgusting as curdled milk.
Society wants to see me
As something unhuman
An object to worship
A ******, mindless creature
That does what she's told
A FEMALE.
But I am a WOMAN
I have ideas, morals, and input.
My thoughts and opinions that matter.
I can make jokes,
And drink beer,
And read,
And play video games,
And be a musician,
And speak my mind,
And bleed.
Like a FEMALE human.
Or,
Like a woman.

fly me to the moon
and let me play among the stars?
no, frank,
how about you put me in a spaceship
and launch me to the ******* end of this universe
but make sure the ship falls apart
like make sure it’s not constructed nicely
because i want to be destroyed
by the galaxies
i want my skin to tear off
while flying by massive stars
i want to be incinerated
and made to dust
i want to disappear

this darkness
is slowly consuming me
eating away at my life
I do not fear
for there is not much light
for it to take away.
however,
I would enjoy to have
a brightness in my life.
it does not have to be
quite like the moon,
or a star,
I would be more than satisfied
with something equivalent
to a dimly lit candle
or even
a dying lightbulb.
just something,
even if it is small,
that can help me see.
although,
it is likely
the light will never find me.
I guess I will
just have to teach myself
to learn to see
in the dark.