Do we dread death

fear dying,

Or is it something more,

Could it be life

actual living,

That scares us, I'm unsure

Didn't see it coming,

Struck down to the floor,

But in life you keep on going,

And coming back for more.

it's been two years since i died.
730 days since i took my own life.
and i never fell in love.
i was never kissed under the stars,
never found the place that was ours.
i never travelled to that far away paradise,
or fell asleep in his arms.
i never met her,
never saw her smile,
never made love,
never read all those books.
i didn't get my grades,
never went to festivals,
never drank too much,
never felt that pang of loss.
there is so much i never experienced.
i wish i never swallowed those pills.

Finger tips, lightly drawn
Across bare skin
In places
Usually hidden

Goose bumps raised
Along with expectations
Stimulations and possible
Permutations

Blood boils
And expands
Filling and raising
Engorging

Electrical impulses
Spark along neurons
As temperatures
Increase

Lubricants and friction
Fight a battle
As other fluids
Are exchanged

Ecstasy reached
In full release
As squeezing and kissing
Reach heights

The sounds and smells
Of fulfillment
Fill the room
Spent and weak

i'm so bad at falling asleep

love isn't a destiny, it's a disease
festering deep inside of me
manifesting in every part of everything
taking over the blood of my weak being

love isn't the beauty of a stolen lover's kiss
it's the reconciling of the moments eternally gone amiss
stuck in the the past life, true lover's heartbroken kiss
what did i do to deserve this?

I think it's stupid
How I refuse to use straws
Because of a video I watched one time
Of one stuck in a sea turtle's nostril.

Or how there is really only the illusion of choice
And statistics from unreliable resources
Making us feel better or worse
About our decisions.

I tell myself to quit sugar
But honestly I just like my lattes
Sickeningly
Sweet
Like the love stories I thought could be under nooks
Around the corners
Of everyday life.

I like ice cream on winter days
Hot tea in the suns of summer
A walking talking irony

A bulb on its way to burning out
Sputtering in the half-eaten room
No one wants to go in to change it.

It's not my fault
The walls dissolve
And that same chord is continually played on the piano
In the corner of the upstairs closet.

It's not my fault
Cameras don’t bring me security
But sensitivity to my own identity.
Dissolution into absolution
Abolishment of egocentrism

And always,
The illusion of choice
Hanging in the rafters chattering.