I wake
from dreams of you
like waves of the ocean
that break
upon the shore

a persistent feeling
of dissatisfaction
hovers quietly
above me
making no sound
but

always falling
always dripping
always coating me
so that every damp
footstep
I leave behind
reminds me
it will never leave me alone

the wetness
from my raincloud
and
the water
from the ocean of my dreams
become
the same liquid
that permeates my being

interchangeable
undistinguishable
from one another

tell me -
why do I dream
of disappointment?

Officially,
the calendar now marks
that it's been over a year
since I've last had your taste.
I should be proud
of myself
- and I am -
but more so, I am
surrounded by frustration.

I cannot write code like I used to.
Neither can I
find the words to write poetry
like I used to.
With you,
my creativity and passion
came effortlessly:
like turning on a tap
from which the essence
flowed,
whenever I took
my next hit.

Now, it's been
over a year from you;
and the passion from which
you robbed me of
is starting to come back.

I refuse to let
my memories of you
taint
that which I love.

My subdued passion
for programming,
video games,
and literature
shall not be dull forever.

With every new moon
that passes,
the fog in the mirror
continues to fade,
as my reflection
becomes clear.

And with it,
I feel (more than anything)
the ambition
that which you stole from me
ever-so-slowly return.

I so desperately
searched for my soul
while in your grasp.
Clouded by your embrace,
I lost myself,
and saw only the image you painted
in the mirror.

In time I will find myself again.
Fully.

One year clean
is something to celebrate.

loving this **** ghost
who will never be alive
like drinking poison

only your essence
to haunt me every day
never the true thing

I want to feel warmth
not the absence of real love
paranormal dreams

My desire:

When you danced your way
into my life,
you brought with you
a light;
one which illuminated
the scene around it.

A world -
which was previously
burdened
by imperative darkness -
now exposed to my sight.

Your magnificence
consequently
revealed
the beauty in my own world:
one which I had forgotten,
one which I had
closed the doors upon -
deeming happiness
impossible to find.

I suppose,
what I'm trying to say
is:
you are the light of my life.
But somehow,
those words don't serve justice.

None of my words
serve
justice
to how I feel for you.

Those
nights,
the
music,
mood,
dancing -

are what
I imagine
my heaven
would be.

We could be anywhere -
I could have
nothing
to my name
except black lipstick
and a tenacious heart -
whenever
I'm with you,
I know it's the only place
I need to be.

I wish I could tell you
how you take me
out of this world -
but habitually,
I find it
difficult
to communicate
the music of my heart.

Perhaps,
it's because
alongside
my poor choice of words
and
jumbling of sentences;

whenever
I look into your eyes
the only thought
I can be sure of,
is that
you have the most beautiful face
I have ever seen.

And when you smile -
forget anything
I had on my mind -
your smile
is the kind you read about;
one that makes people
want to do right,
one that
melts away worry;
one
that makes people
fall in love.

here I am
crying again
at 5am
what a joke
how pathetic
what a waste
of existence
air
time.
better off
dead

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.

every year i mature
and age
feels like
a million more realizations
that this life is
depressing
and a waste

maybe depressing
is the wrong word
should use
miserable
agony
despair
like HEY
you there
consciousness
or
soul
whatever you call
the me that is me
before this body
here
latch onto this vessel
this insignificant
organism
in the grand scheme
of life
and
**** IT UP HORRIBLY

wish i had
someone other than myself
to blame
for my own sadness
the tears that fall
are not from another
hurting me
they are from
the me that is me
that is hurting
myself
daily

how else
to live
how else
can i
survive
i do not know
another way
do not think
i could learn

just
depression
with
distractions
distractions
distractions

have another ******
play another game
talk to another person
person
who is more human
than me

i do not feel
human
i do not feel
whole
i feel
like
the bottom
of my cup
of tea
just
remnants
of sadness
and bits
of
the tea leaves
the essence
of myself
only to be
washed
down the drain

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 wake
from dreams of you
like ocean waves
that crash
upon the shore

forgetting
a second
before I remember
you're
no longer mine

I don't want
to be

awake

maybe,
if I
keep my eyes shut
these waves will swallow me again,
drowning me
in memories of you

but memories
become regrets -
and my mind is a hurricane
with rain like
a storm of thoughts

thoughts like

how
this could have
been avoided
if I didn't let my emotions
play me
like a puppet

how now
our days together
will be replaced
with somebody else
and the sun will set
all the same

no longer
a person
in your life
but a story
you tell

I'm
trying to say,
I’m sorry and
you're right
it’s my fault
I was wrong

I'll be here
when you want me

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.

the shadows of others
which maliciously
dance
upon the walls
point and laugh
at my human body
that sits in my room
watching

they use their
shadows
fragments of their
true self
to shame and degrade
this person
my self
because I do not hide
my flaws
in darkness

the teasing
shades of human
criticize and belittle
myself and
the other few
who openly exist
as exactly
who we are

these shadows
fueled by
fear
spite
negativity
make every observation
of exposed flaws
I can only imagine
that the humans
who are casting these
shadows of hate
to be
biting their nails
and looking away
as their
shadow
becomes them

while I was
openly
exposing my true form
I began to hate
that of who I am
taking the shadows critique
to heart
when they are too weak
to expose
who they truly are

their shadows
came for me-
as did
shadows
of my own

instead of
hiding myself
becoming
the same as them
using my
insecurities
as fuel for hatred
to burden
upon others
when
the darkness began
to encroach upon me
it fueled
to make me hate myself
instead of others

now,
I have begun
to understand

my own shadow
will no longer
swallow me in darkness
as it is just
my own
embodiment of hatred
a version of myself
that isn't real at all

and the
shadows
from others
who spit fire
to try and burn
my flesh
will fail
as I now know
that if they exposed
their true self
as I have done
everybody
would be able
to see
that the faults
they accuse of
only exist
within them

and I
am just simply
me

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

take a scalpel
to my emotionless face
cut me a new smile
an open wound that stings

razorblade grin

and as the blood
stains my skin
and
soaks
my work clothes

maybe
I'll believe
that I'm real
maybe
it will show me
how to feel

carve me a face
to make me
human

whatever
you want me
to be
as long
as it's not me

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?

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

currently wishing
my uber driver would shut the **** up for half a minute

I just want to listen
to Joy Division
in silence;
with nothing
but the pressure
of my inescapable apathy

please shut up;
I really don't care
that two children were hit
by a tractor trailer this morning,
only a bit jealous.
I never thought I'd meet
someone as lonely as me,
but the continual conversation
that you regurgitate
proves otherwise.
I wish I could be
taken out
by a tractor trailer -
at this point,
I'll settle for anything.

uh-huh
yeah
really
no way

I feel as though this trip
is a metaphor
for my waking life:
just a blur of scenery
flying by,
while a stranger
makes noises at my depression -
and I just,
uh-huh
yeah
really
no way

I hate how
I hate everything

hate
how lonely I am

how regardless
of who
surrounds me,
        comforts me,
                loves me,
I still feel like I'm alone

welcome to the void

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.

outgoing?
I'd say outspoken
never been arbitrary
or overbearing-
just vocal

my passion runs deep
and pours out
excited
overflowing
when it finds
another soul to share it with

the energy
others direct towards me
I absorb
and like a mirror
reflect it back towards them

the energy
that rests inside me
is like water
waiting
for an outside force
to heat me up
excite
my molecules
or
to cool me down
mellow
the chaos inside me
making me stable
making me solid

if being an extrovert
makes me
popular and
domineering,
a fun-loving,
party animal
who lacks introspection,

tell me why
I always choose
to isolate myself

why
my few friends I do have
I keep at a distance
except when I force myself
to enjoy their company
once or twice
in a year

why
I am easily talked over
my words drowned out
ignored
like background noise
my input
apbrubtly halted
as others drive over it
making it no more
than the dust
their tires kick up
why I let them
talk over me
rather than raise my voice

why I would rather
read in solitude
than go to a party
or play a video game
rather than socialize
why
would I choose
to ponder existence
over
existing with others

extroverted
means I get my energy
from external events
rather than the internal

I am not a synonym
for gregariousness

we're all born into this river
without knowing how to swim

at the beginning
most have
family
to keep us above
the water-
be our life vest
that keeps us
breathing

as the river's
current
flows and carries us
some have been
taught
or have
learned
how to swim
how to
keep above
water
and are flowing
along
smoothly

others,
like me,
have not had
another to teach
guide
and have not yet
taught ourselves
either

simply
treading water
letting the current
of life
carry my soul
knocking me
pushing me under
with barely
a second
that I come above
to breathe

we are all
in this river
together

when the waters get cold
and my teeth
chatter
friends and
strangers
who have been
in these cold waters
before
keep me warm

when I am
going under
and start
to drown
these same people
lift me up
keep me
above
the water
so I can
breathe

others have
tried to teach me
how to swim
how they
make it through
the currents
but
I will have to
learn the best
way
for myself
to stay above

I am
building a raft
out of the sticks
and
debris
I find floating
that I latch on to
while I am
under

even though
I haven't
learned
how to swim
in this river
still
if I see someone
struggling
to stay above
I will do
all
that is in my power
to keep them
above

hold
on to me
if you are being
pulled down
I will tread water
for the both of us

and when I finish
this raft
I will
use it for myself
and when
it has done
it's job
I will give it
to another
to keep them
above
these deep waters

I'm here for you
in the same way you're here for me

endless pacing
of these
subaquatic halls
almost catatonic
until I remember
how to think
and then
I cry

I should be
dead

I was dead
free from this
painful
existence
until something -
the WAU -
brought me back
in it's skewed mission
to preserve humanity

the WAU
stitched me
back together
with its gel of life

hardly human
hardly conscious
but conscious enough
to hate what I am
and cry
over my own existence

misery
then
anger
I am half
myself
half WAU
angry
craving to ****
hurt
end
whatever
stumbles across
my path

in my habitual
walks
through these corridoors
I see him

something else
another
who is aware
oh what I wouldn't
give
to have another
sentient creature
to curb my loneliness but-
NO!
STAY AWAY FROM ME!

the WAU
starts talking

**** him
he doesn't want you
to exist
he will
prevent you
from being with me
you need me
we need each other
he wants to end us
to end
life
he must be
extinguished
for the sake of
preserving
humanity

find him
chase him
**** HIM

in my pursuit
of the sentient
diving suit
I recognize
his fear
and my humanity
comes back to me
and I weep

he is
so afraid
of who I am
the Frankenstein
the predator
seeking prey
I cry
because this
is who I am
I cry
because I don't want
to hurt him
I cry
because I am
alive

constantly torn
between animalistic
rage
and the
self aware
misery
of realizing what I am

I want someone
to hold me
and make me feel
human
but
I don't want
any conscious creature
to get near me

for the WAU
is controlling
the strings of this puppet
it is the reason
I exist
it gives me the
sustenance
I need and crave
to keep on
hating my own existence
it will make me
****
anything that crosses my path

I think
and I weep

breathe me in
my bittersweet taste
encompasses your tongue
the memory
of me
lingers
on your tastebuds
crave me again
crave me always

breathe me out
exhale
as I pleasure myself
I arch my back
inside the curls
of your white smoke clouds
enchanting you
to have more of me
begging you
to play with me again

I am the best
you'll ever have
I'll send waves
of *******
throughout your being
more than anyone else
without me
the *** will always be a bore
I am your delight
the tighter my hold on you
the more you need it

I'll never leave you
my body is yours
you couldn't get away
even
if you wanted to

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.

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.

old friend!
kind one,
smart one,
one with humor-
why does your mind
refuse to realize
that you cannot
keep up
with your
addiction
forever?

I am not asking you
to put down
the tinfoil
the pipe
the line
this instant

I know addiction
all too well

when it is in your grasp
when you have
your hand
on the ripe
red apple-
let alone,
your teeth
already sinking in
to the first bite-
it's nearly impossible
to release the
forbidden fruit
and climb down
from this tree

you have tasted
the knowledge
the sweetness
of the
fruit
and you will
crave it
now that you know
the brilliance of it

you are punishing yourself
you are hating yourself
you are destroying yourself
you are killing yourself
just realize
that

I will still love you
I will still be your friend
I will not
however
be around you
in your hazy
daze
after you have eaten
the fruit
of which you know you shouldn't

I promise you this-

if you
step away
from the tree
of sin

life
will begin
to look
different

find yourself
a spot
in the garden
of
life
far, far away
from the foliage
of
temptation

set up
barricades
to protect you
from the
snakes
enticing whispers
and let go

you will suffer
deeply
the first few days
without
your savory fruit
but within the week
you will begin to see
all else
this garden has to offer you

look at the way
the light dances
along the cave walls
from animals
that pass outside!

look at the way
the grass
flows
in the gentle breeze!
can you hear the wind
that is moving it?

there is so much more in life
than your addiction
so
much
more

right now,
it's got it's blinders on you

rip them off
don't let
addiction
ride you around
this garden
of life
telling you
where to go
what actions to make

be
yourself
love
yourself

no judgement
but for that
I ask
no excuses
only honesty

I am not asking you
to put down the drugs
this instant
just for you to realize
that this isn't your life
and that
you truly,
can't continue living like this

“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 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.
****.

body and mind
without soul
I search for her

no trail of breadcrumbs
for me to follow
to find her hiding place

no reply
when I call "marco!"
just empty silence

left me cold
like
being broken up with
by having
your calls and messages ignored
cut off from their life
with no reason or answer
as to
"why?"

I search for her
in my writing
in my hobbies
I know our interests
are the same, at least
I have comfort
in that

hoping
she'll show up
on my doorstep
with a smile and a hug
explaining
she just went
on an unexpected trip
but that
she always planned
on coming back to me

to us

how do I live
without her
I am nothing
without her

calling her phone
to no avail
answering machine
turned off
if I could
leave a message after the tone
I would say:

dear soul,
without you
my life is autumn
and I am the
dead leaf
that has fallen
from the tree of you
the breeze carries me
but I have no home
I will be crushed
by a single step
swept up and
incenerated
when I become
a bother

please come home
please give me
a call
let me know
what I did
what I can
do
to be with you again

until then
I'll be looking for you
around every
street corner
I walk in the
daytime
and in every
shadow
the moon casts
upon my bedroom
while I am
lying awake
wondering
how to do this
without you

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.

what are some of your skills?
besides
hurting those who
love me
I'm exceptionally good at
not
eating
for extended
periods of time
and have
plenty of experience
with avoiding
responsibilities

why do you want to work with us?
so I
can continue
living
while wishing
I were dead?
so I
can have money
to buy
food
I won't eat
games
I won't enjoy
clothes
I'll never wear?
so I can
buy
indie authors
books
and make myself
broke
by supporting their work

why should Gigantic Corporation Inc. hire you?
you shouldn't
I'll be late
frequently
and
probably
slack off
every time
I get the chance
but please
hire me?
I need
money
and something
to do
sleeping
in bed all day
only
anchors
my depression

what's your least favorite part of each day, and why?*
what kind
of ******* question
is this?
is this a joke?
my least favorite part
of each day
is
waking up
going to sleep
and the time
in between

how about
I ask you
a question?
what's the excuse
you tell yourself
every day
to make yourself
feel human?
do you
make
a persona
create
who you are
a fake
personality
formed out of
tv shows
and
books you've read
other people's
traits
that you admire
and think
would make you
admired
by others?
or are you
exactly
who you are?

what's
YOUR
least favorite part
of each day and why?
is it lying
to your wife
when you tell her
that you love her?
is it lying
to your children
telling them
that it will get better?

or is it
getting up in the morning
to go to work
to the same
******
job
that you're stuck in
but you have to
do it
because you have
a family
to support
necessities
to purchase
prostitutes
to buy?

I feel like your questions
are mocking me.
I feel like you're
probably
a pretentious
****

anyways,
I'm looking forward
to working
for your company
I will be
a positive
(-ha!)
and motivated
(-too funny!)
staff member
to bring
to the team
I hope you
will give me
this
opportunity

promise
I won't
let you
down

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 am the ocean-
from an objective glance
one might say
I am predictable
my tides
my moods
are just a reaction
caused by
my moon of emotion

I inch closer to you
then pull away
the moon is my master
and I am but a puppet
to her

wade in my shallow waters
before venturing further

for your own safety
study me first
before exploring my depth

I have swallowed innocent people
whole
when they did not
know what to expect
their bodies will always rise
but I have drowned their souls
in my darkness

not something I am proud of
but they
should have known
what they were getting into

inside me there lives
demons disguised as sharks
lurking
until you show your
vulnerability
once they smell it
they will hunt you down
and abuse you
for their own advantage

but when you get to know
my secrets
my waters
my soul
I promise there is
beauty
in the underwater foliage
I can show you sights
you have never seen
as long
as you remember
when to pull up for air

just bring a life vest
and don't say
I never warned you
not
to swim too deep

the dust
that collects underneath my
bed
flakes of old
skin
are more myself
than I am

the person I was
when I was seven
is not me
nor
the person I was
on my fourteenth birthday
the person I was
yesterday
is not
the person I am
in this moment

the cells
the building blocks
of this body that carries me
are constantly
changing
they die
and entirely new ones
take place

how can I say
I am the same
person
that I was at fourteen
when every particle
of myself
is completely different

what is it that has
kept me the same
person
throughout my regeneration
is it my consciousness
is this my soul

I am a tree
grown from just a seed
every year
my leaves
shrivel up and die
and every year
I grow
brand new ones

it is still the same
tree
because it's trunk
remains the same

I am still the same
me
because my consciousness
remains the same

after a tree
is cut down
it does not disappear
it's trunk
remains

smaller,
yes
but still there
now a stump

if I am still myself
after my body
changes every molecule
of my prior self
this begs the question
will my consciousness
remain
after this body has died

if
I
am not limited
to a specific
chemical makeup-
able to transcend
different bodies-
does that mean
I will transcend
this
life
as well

your hands
tediously twist
and pull
the rubix cube
not to impress
others
with your
speed of completion
but for your own
satisfaction
it will sit on your side table
for years
the mountain
you will never climb

before
your older brother
gave it to you
he rearranged
the stickers
an impossible puzzle
his prank
forgotten by him
amongst hundreds of others

your arms
scrub painstakingly
to wash away the
dark stain
on your
kitchen floor
which never fails
to catch your gaze

it has become
your routine
to spend an hour
every Sunday
cleaning
the persistent spot

curse it's existence
imagine life
without it
even though
it has become
a safety net for you
the only thing
you can count on
being there for you
when you arrive home

still,
your efforts
never cease

you will never discover
it was a fault
of the painters
a careless flaw
ignored
as they completed
the top coat

it does not matter
how much I try
to heal this
loneliness
or how many
different ways
I try to fill my
emptiness-
it is a bottomless
hole

swallows
everything thrown in
the hunger
is never satisfied
I do not think
it will ever
be full
do not think
I am able to feel whole

but
that doesn't stop me
from trying

could you please
preheat the oven
to 450°F?

thanks!
now
can you please
shove me in there
and close the door tightly?

I'll probably scream
and flail
but,
ignore that

I need a fire to be lit
under my ***
since I clearly
cannot light one
by myself

What am I supposed to do with all
Of this
Unhinged
Passion —
Okay, calling it passion is a stretch.
It’s boiling ******* anger
For my own existence.

What am I to do?
Share it? With whom?
Who might appreciate?
Even if they do,
I’d probably be dissatisfied
About something.
I’m sure of it.

Why am I so
Existentially dissatisfied?
At what point will I think
Anything is enough,
Or worthy of my
Approval?

Does it need to destroy me in order for me to respect it?

I’m making myself sound like a *****.
Really, I am
But a self aware one.
Like, I realize that I’m a pretentious *******
And I hate myself for it,
So that you don’t have to.

Why do I long for attention,
When I am so
Disgusted
By it

Just pathetic,
It’s like I think
the window which I’m looking out of
Makes me better
Than those who have a different view.

Sometimes I wish I was stupid so that I wouldn’t think I was better than other people.
Or at least stupid enough
To ignore my own hypocrisy.
Why the ****
does it always come back to
That story about
The flowers for that dead ******* rat

Is it too late to get a lobotomy?

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.

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 just feel like
an empty shell*

those were
the only words I could find
when asked
to speak more
about how I've been
feeling

how can I describe
the way I
feel
when I don't even
feel
real?

an empty
egg shell
split in half
and lying in the trash
whose insides
were fried
to be devoured
by the devil

devil
or
lucifer
or
negativity
or
my own mind

all the same
thing
(being?)

the fragile
discarded
snake skin
leftover from it's owner's
moult-
the snake
is nowhere to be found-
just the shed
old skin
of who it used to be

the remnants
of the caccoon
after
the butterfly
takes it's leave

the box
that your Amazon order
arrived in
nothing left inside,
except packing peanuts

I no longer feel
like a human being
though that statement
implies
I've felt like one
before
(I haven't)

talking to others
makes me feel real
when I'm next to you
I pretend
there's something inside
of this empty
vessel

someone tell me-
what makes me
who I am?
as of right now
I feel like
all I am
is
a sack of flesh

a lump of meat
with the ability
to be aware of it's
self
unimportance
bad decisions

no soul
there's nothing inside
I have
never
felt whole

it's not just a
piece
of me
that is missing
it's the
entire
*******
thing

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.