why did we cry when the **** kicked in?
its like we’ve always been
a black and white frame from a love filled scene,
or a joy filled dream

but when the morning birds sang we found ourselves not in the clouds
rather bound to the ground

the joy from the night before paved the way
for a bleaker reality,
one in which we could not see,
the subtle, right in front us,
everyday beauty

the sun is shining and i think its time to let go.

the sun still shone when they told me that I was the most miserable person they’ve ever met. held how i thought about death at least 17 times a day against me, told me again and again about how many people I’ve ruined when most days I’m so anxious i can’t get out of bed… have you ever thought to wonder why some people preach so avidly about appreciating happiness as it comes? i suppose i cry better at bus stops than in front of my friends because i want people to think I’m doing well. i want to give people happiness and hope and one less thing to worry about because nobody deserves to feel the way i feel. nobody deserves to look in the mirror and feel disappointment towards the face staring back at them. i don’t want anybody to live like that with this perpetual lump in their throats this perpetual anxiety while bleaching blood stains from bathroom floors and pouring a shot for themselves afterwards. i just want to be something good.

the sun still shone while I’ve lived my whole life with my hands pressed underneath my legs to stop them from shaking, googling the price of child-sized coffins because when i die i want to commemorate the last time my mother said she was proud of me. i will never be good at writing I will just be good at injecting honesty into trivial metaphors. safety pinning my heart to my sleeve has only ever resulted in bloodshed. so here i am, bleeding again for the sake of poetry, putting laughter in place of commas and postponing the emptying of my belly until after I’ve left the stage. trust me i’m trying to be good.

the sun still shone but i think my least favourite version of myself has been the one that bathed my skin in artificial light to convince those around me that i had finally become radiant. fluorescent bulbs have only ever made my acne worse and triggered the overwhelming ache to burn off the skin I’ve been trying to crawl out of for years because i used to hurt people for no ******* reason. i would hurt them then play the victim because i knew there was a difference between drowning and allowing yourself to sink. I’ve only ever known inhalation when submerged in the ocean. i still just want to be something good.

the sun still shone when i skipped class for 4 weeks and came back on the 5th because its never too late. i want to become something good i know someday i will be, but first i need to be me. my palms are beginning to heal from everything ive held on to for too long. i am beginning to heal. and this time when i drop the mask, it won’t end in a relapse. i think it’s time to let go. its time to let go of the past and fluorescent lights and yellow sweaters, it’s warmer now anyways and i am me.

i am me in all of my sadness and illness and rage. i am me through every attempt I’ve taken at opening my veins to the sky, through every absolution I’ve granted unto people that called me a monster. i am me in my ugliness and unevenness and headassery i am me in all of my beauty and resilience and survival, kissing my past good bye with red lipstick because despite everything the sun has always shone and will always shine. in becoming myself, i am becoming something good.

i’m done hiding my face behind ripped notebook pages and the sun still shines. the sun is shining now and for the first time in 17 years i am beginning to feel it.

i am becoming whole with a cause and he made me believe that there was a reason for everything. i met him in this life, two weeks after i couldn’t fasten the rope in my basement, two desks to the left, one back. quiet boy with soft smile, head down, leg tapping. picture me one desk up, two desks to the right unknowingly sitting metres away from the truest human being i would experience thus far. the human being who would introduce me to new genres of music, run through sprinklers with me, sit talking for hours smoking full packs of cigarettes, walk through forests, introduce me to genuinely hilarious people and help me experience the true beauty of not being okay. the human being jealous of music and the broken people that made it. the boy like his father; or so he tells me every time he’s drunk. stop looking in the mirror, trying to find darkness where there is none. light another cigarette, we’re all going to die someday. drown in your own self hatred, the water’s warmer in the deep end and i’ll help you keep your head above the water if you promise to float beside me when the sun rises again. once he said he’d **** himself in every universe he experiences without me and yes maybe so but even with me in his universe i wonder if he means it when he agrees that we should stay. i hope he stays. sweaty-palmed handshakes, aching and aching he is as soft as the skin beside his eyes when he smiles. why try to act so sharp edged when your heart is made from all things gentle? passionately broken record boy, repeating the same things over and over again under the influence with undertones of love for others. the love he’s unable to show towards himself. i see the way his shoulders curve downwards on the worst days, trying to make himself smaller to fit inside some new definition of “lovable”. the only person to ever tell me i was easy to love and prove it. i don’t know if i’ve ever thanked him for that. passionately broken record boy, appreciating my art and leaving me to wonder if the words we’ve shared after midnight had the same effect on his heartbeats as they have had on mine. sometimes he looks at me innocently but not so innocently because i’m sure he’s held my gaze long enough to see everything i’ve been hiding. i’m never really sure if he’s joking or not. about life and love and wanting to die. i want to tell him i love him in the way i love every person i’ve ever lost, like i sleep with my shoes on in case there comes a night i have to chase after him. he is the sum of everyone he has ever loved minus the drug addictions and prostitutes and stab wounds. it scares me that despite cold skin his presence keeps me warm and i am warm, i am warm, i am warm. i have never felt so warm and secure and void of anxiety within a friendship before and maybe him entering my life as carelessly and beautifully as he did was one of the reasons for everything. i genuinely believe it was.

passionately broken record boy. i didn’t meet him in the past life, two weeks after i fastened the rope in my basement, two desks to the left, one back. quiet boy with soft smile, head down, leg tapping. picture an empty chair. one desk up, two desks to the right, never having the chance to know the truest human being i would’ve experienced thus far. an empty space of a person he knew of but never knew.

but in this life i did have the chance. i got to know HIM, not just a tragic biography. not just a tragic suicide told enthusiastically by those who ached to follow. i knew him. i know him. five months after i couldn’t fasten the rope in my basement we were staring into the stars in comfortable silence and i finally believed that there was a reason for everything. i am becoming whole with a cause and the cause is him.

i want somebody to look close enough to see everything i’ve been hiding. how will i know? when i fall in love again, how will i know that it wont be like last time? i’m afraid i might be destined to die alone. being shy in 2018 is like being a woman in the 60’s. i can’t stop picking at scabs i’ve created myself. i’m not sure how much of a metaphor that really is. there’s a difference between heartbreak and abuse although people write about them as if they are the same. rejection is not the same as destruction. i hate how violently my hands shake. i am 17 kinds of amnesia. i am the answer to ambiguous security questions. i could die today and wait for you to forget about mourning the loss. getting better is not synonymous with going away. i am choking on my own fist in most instances. darling, live. i love you. please read this. please stay. my emotions feel like deleted voicemails. lost blood bags. is this what you wanted? i can’t rhyme or write or lie the same. mommy, is this who you thought i’d become? don’t answer that. i am still trying to find names for the emotions that have lied behind my eyes for decades. sometimes it is taken and never given back. i think that’s just life. most nights i still miss him. missing. miss-ing. that doesn’t mean i want it back. i want you to bite my lips until they bleed. i should know how to ease what has already happened, but i don’t. i wish i was in love right now. i wish i was sure that was the truth. i am too distracted by the tragedies of every blue within green. i still cant sleep on his side of the bed. i want her to be able to hold me without flinching. do you remember the night you fell asleep in my passenger seat and i fell in love with your skin bathed in brake lights? me neither. my best friend called me selfish. i’m beginning to believe her. does my crumbling fascinate you? the world is too loud. i don’t belong here. i am alone. i am dying. crash the car. do not resuscitate. please help me.

One.
Salty tear creeps down my cheek.

Two.
Hands balled in fists ready to fight the battle.

Three.
Reasons to say goodbye to those I used to love.

Four.
Walls, that I used to call home, are now the death of me.

Five.
Fingers ready to grasp the blade and make a deep cut.

Six.
Prayers to God begging Him for help and asking Him for mercy.

Seven.
Voices in my head telling me to be stronger than my depression and anxiety.

Eight.
More voices telling me to give up because all I am is a worthless piece of trash.

Nine.
One. One. Call the ambulance because I am about to die.

Ten.
Commandments taught me that thou shall not **** but killing I shall do.

If you can't see
anything beautiful about yourself
get a better mirror
look a little closer
(I see my big blue eyes lol)
but just
stare a little longer
because there is something inside you
that made you keep trying
despite everyone who told you to quit
you built a cast around your broken heart
and signed it yourself
you signed it
"they are wrong"
For only you
will ever know your worth
so stare a little longer
because
"they are wrong"

They took his body down.
With the roughest of hands.
Took out the nails from his wrists
Removed the crown from his hair.
Oh no our Lord God, they took his body down dead.
Some thought, He could have been someone great
If he only would have stuck to carpentry.
How fitting that one who spent their life working with wood
Would die on a cross, made of wood.
The cross was messy.
The cross was filthy
The enemies came to examine it and thought it was disgusting.
They thought to discard it
Because they thought what good is a cross filled with blood

Then the enemies of God stepped back
And announced, We are gathered here today to bury a man.
They said he was King of the Jews
Now he is King of the Dead
It was a eulogy given by those who despised him.
Those who wanted him dead
There were also mourners.
The disciple who Jesus loved, now had to take care of Mary.
She could not be comforted.
Like Rachel at Jesus’ birth, she would not be comforted.
Because she was the modern Rachel
But instead of dying in childbirth.
She had to watch her grown son die on the cross.

They asked for people who knew him to speak
Peter came up and gripped the pulpit
So hard you could see the insides of his hands on his hands
Shaking so much he could not control himself
His head was bobbing up and down
Peter wailed, I betrayed him!
Because I thought I could be stronger than I was
I wanted to stay by him
But I feared exposure
I feared death
I feared that he might be right about who I really was.
So I did not speak
I pray he is in a better place
Because my life will never be the same.
There was intermittent clapping.
Peter cried out, Stop, stop!
You are all hypocrites!
You killed an innocent man!
We are all guilty!
God forgive us all!

The enemies said, Now is the time for the wake
I know that normally the wake is before the funeral
But we have to view the body
That never rose again.
Everyone got up to look at where Jesus body lay
But there was no body
No body.
It was bodiless.
And the enemies were mystified.
How could there be a ****** cross
And no body.
Unless……
Mary and Peter grinned
There was hope

The enemies thought in horror
He said that his body would be raised in three days
They asked a servant, What day is it
The servant replied, The third day.
Oh no.
The enemies started to run around frantically
One yelled out, This cant be happening!
We must escape!
Then someone walked in
The people did not even hear the doors open
And the enemies of Jesus gasped.
Some were pale
Some said I can’t breathe
Others fainted.
That someone was Jesus

Jesus walked to the front.
And told them, This funeral is over.
Because by the blood of the cross
There is redemption.
You thought you threw the cross away
But now everyone who believes in me
Will pick up the cross and live for me.
Don’t look for someone's dead body
Because I am alive.
You wanted to bury God
And put me in the grave
Then all of the followers stood proudly.
Jesus waved his hand across the aisles
Here is my Body.
Broken for above.
No grave can bury it.
Jesus then turned and left the funeral proceedings
And the disciples walked out in confidence
Ready to tell the world the good news.

What is a costume?
What masks do we put on
at the beginning of each day,
just to shed as we walk through the door?

Our front doors become the cleansing cloth,
that strips away the deceptive pretense
of our sense of selves
that we create for the outside world to see

these costumes however,
create barriers.

We hesitate to say what intimacy is,
and whether or not we have it

But what is intimacy
when our relationships are built on
a foundation of
convention.

What is intimacy
when we train our entire lives
to play a masterful game of pretend.