Have you ever seen someone crumple?
I have,
And I was one half of the cause.
She’d taken a bullet
But didn’t yet know it.
She wasn’t angry
As she looked from me to him and back again
Waiting for one of us to explain
What couldn’t be explained.
She wasn’t angry, she was imploding
Chipped glass about to shatter
Fragmenting shards.
Atoms swirled in chaos,
She stood alone, in a tornado
Still and silent
Not realising the oxygen had all but gone.
Time stood still for us all
And as she realised,
She started to crumple and turned and fled
Too proud to disintegrate
In front of those who fired the gun.

Anticipation, say it s-l-o-w-l-y
Allow it to linger, feel it wholly
Place your heart upon your hand
Or the other way around
Hand over heart
Feel, hear, see your flesh pound
Rhythmic *chaos contracting inside
Expectations building, rising
Higher and higher (along with anxiety levels)
Anticipation is a rude guest
Overstays his welcome, always outstandingly overdressed
Beckons silly *fantasies to sit next to him on the couch
Leaves drops of contemplation on the carpet
Broken hearts, shattered expectations
Or best case scenario, a dream come true
Beautiful visualizations of contentment
The joy of fulfilled hopes
No sensation equals receiving
All the ideas you dare to believe
Can a cranium explode from the pressure of a hundred- thousand untamed thoughts?
The agony of uncertainty
Being in the pitch dark
Only speculations
No actualities
Merely the human **imagination

Do you understand?
Do you understand what it's like to be like me?
Do you understand what it's like to feel alone,
To cry yourself to sleep at night and watch the stars shine while you wish you were as beautiful as the light everyone else is?
Do you understand what I wish I was compared to everyone else.
I wish I was beautiful the way she is.
Because I may be beautiful to you but to everyone else I am not.
I am defiantly not to myself.
Why can't I be good enough for you? Or to the world. Why can't I be good enough for me?
Do you really understand what it's like to have friends who say their there but aren't?
Or do you understand what it's like to have people stare at your arms and look at you in discust?
That you may not be human but a dead soul trying to run out? Maybe your dead on the outside but fighting on the inside.
Maybe I'm the only one.
But one day you will all understand.
Maybe when I'm six feet under the ground and you don't hear nothing but silence, and birds whistle in the morning mist.
But I showed death on my wrist.

i want to be found;
a chest vase full of
forget-me-nots, trying
to be different in all but
my skin and bones that
are no different from the
others

Drinking whiskey
but
it's medicinal

honest

Has I've

man flu.