Toxic masculinity is
I'm going to cheat
Instead of expressing my insecurities

Toxic masculinity is
I'm going to hit you
Instead of raising my voice from time to time

Toxic masculinity is
I'm going to **** myself
Before I let you see me cry in front of you

So I apologize
For being insecure
For raising my voice
For crying

But this is the emotion you've been dying to see in a man.

I'm sorry you're not used to it...

Green

Yeah, I felt green around you.
Young. New. Go.
Get the hell away from me...
No, please stay.
I'm free to accelerate.

Yellow

Yeah, I felt yellow around you.
Energetic. Happy. Caution.
I need to pump my brakes.
No, I can make it.
**** it, I'm falling in love.

Red

****... I feel red around you.
Wait. Stop. Danger.
I can't keep doing this to myself.
Will you stop doing this to me?
Or can you love me like I love?

Your energies change like a stoplight,
and sometimes I want to open my door
and run into the middle of traffic.

winters used to come and go
now all's draped in sheets of snow
trailing wherever the wind blows
clutching tight all of my woes
where's my way with most doors closed
trapped in a maze, seeing ghosts
phantom limbs and phantom whims
can't turn to books, songs, or hymns
switching to a diff'rent dose
hoping, to death, I come close
i can't ever tell friend from foe
guess I'll have to go alone

we walk in darkness,
faintly but agile,
dodging puddles
and strangers
whose gaze is uncomfortable

we play games
with ourselves
that we just can't win.
we try to bend the rules
but instead just bend ourselves.

we lose ourselves in art:
the only thing that's real.
because the connections we make
are hurried and fake.
affection is *** appeal.

we inquire and murmur
hoping the other has an answer
to our questions of self doubt.
we jump off the bridges we build,
and hope they burn with our regrets.

we search for souls
replete with love,
knowing **** well
love is an empty concept
to all the broken people

we both see red,
but my red isn't your red,
and the doctors tell me there is no "red" at all.

i'm counting the days.
my numbers make them numbered,
and i'm just growing number.

i'm calling on the angels
to have faith in something more than memories.
suffering from loss because i remember "me"

the end isn't far.
i can't tell "end" from "END",
but right now i would settle for either.

i've tried
to find
the light
flick'ring
it leads
again
nowhere
wond'ring
where does
this end
do i
create
the end
the search
to be
happy
is so
pointless
to me
because
it fades
to coal
we work
for cash
to pay
bills and
take pills
matter
is all
that does
matter
but to
me it
doesn't
matter
at all
i have
no faith
in gods
or gems
no joy
in tales
or hymns
there is
no love
to be
felt here
like a
dog I
only
see in
shades of
grey now
no high
is worth
the climb
no words
are worth
the rhyme
i will
soon be
saying
goodbye
for the
last time

wait for the best day.

the best day
to
**** yourself
is
your birthday
because your
loved ones
will only be forced to think about
your suicide
once per year

(your birthday comes.

you eat cake and smile.
you drink, dance, and forget you're suicidal.
you wake up the next morning
back in the suicidal mindset
but knowing you have to wait
364 days.

you wait 364 days.)

repeat until death by natural causes