I stand on the edge of a cliff up high in
The Heavens, surrounded by thick, gray
Clouds, and I’m blinded by the dense fog.

I feel myself being levitated higher into the
Heavens and thrown by an Evil Force, and I
Tumble through the endless darkness and

I land on a boat braving the tides of indecisions
And fear of the past, present, and future, and
I am tossed violently by the hopes, dreams,

And expectations. I paddle deeper into the
Endless ocean with neither an oar nor a sail
And the tides pulls me under and I gasp for

Breathe as I struggle to keep my head above
The water. I become more overwhelmed with
Every crashing wave and my boat fades away

Into the horizon and the fog grows thicker
Until I’m entirely blinded by all the “what ifs”
And the “maybes”, and suffocated by all that

“Could’ve”, “should’ve”, and “would’ve”.
I wait for a light to break through the dense
Fog, calm the tides, and to carry me back to

Where it all began. I pray to whoever will
Listen so I can be saved from this endless
Storm. With every tick and tock of the clock,

I grow more anxious and I begin to sweat.
I wonder if this is reality or if I am dreaming so
I open my eyes and I’m free falling through

The endless funnel of ominous, gray clouds
And my eyes grow bigger as I realize that this
Is not a dream but rather a nightmare that

I cannot escape not matter how hard I try.
It’s a monstrous, endless nightmare that
Has taken control of my mind and my life

And the worst part is: it’s all in my mind.

-maybe your over-thinking, maybe your depressed.
maybe its anxiety, maybe its stress.
maybe its sadness or maybe its a death.-
hes withdrawn, acting like hes dead.
his eyes see nothing but he numbly nods his head.
im tired of worry i want love instead.
this boy is trouble, broken and distant.
this boy is confounding though my feelings are insistent.
i don't want to feel. i don't want to care.
his eyes have stopped seeing through their stare.
hes sick, mind and soul.
i want to fix him but at what toll?
he's addicted. challenged by his mind.
and i'm still ignorantly by his side.
how much of this can i abide?

I am not
a broken heart

Do not
romanticize
my pain

I have no one
to send you after

The source of hurt
lives inside my brain

Yes
I've fallen
apart

But all you'll get
from gathering my
shattered pieces
is cuts on the tips
of your fingers
and sob stories
to take home to
your typewriter

I had a friend
once who said,
"He doesn't love you
he just wants
someone to write
a love song about"

Well isn't that true
for everyone?

If there's no art in my struggle
It's of no use to you

all of the poems i try to bleed feel incomplete
so that's why i haven't really written anything lately

i guess it's kind of like

sometimes you want something so much that you can feel it boring a hole through your soul
but when you get it you just go numb and your heart won't believe it

i guess.

i don't know.

maybe i just got so used to pessimism
or maybe i just got so used to everything being so dark

maybe i forget hope sometimes because i haven't been looking at Him

either way, i'm trying

not all those who wander are lost.

I want to leave 100 post-it notes in the glove compartment of your car.
One.
I loved your smile first. That toothy grin, stretching lips wider than life, that wouldn’t stop talking. Fancy dress parties make you happy. High on sugar. High on life.
Seven.
I introduced you to some friends and they had highlighter pens at the ready to welcome you into the group. You laughed.
Sixteen.
You gave me your number but you didn’t realize those were the digits to unlock my soul too.
Twenty four.
My parents pick you up and you wear a jacket brighter than the sun and it makes me smile like the rays of summer. We go to the city.
Twenty nine.
She makes a fool out of me. I’m sorry she embarrassed you by telling you how I felt. It was not her place. I cried a lot that night. But your text was lovely and allowed me to sleep.
Thirty six.
I had given up on you but you were at the party and we took smiling pictures together and we made tea at two in the morning while they were all out of it. I
Thirty eight.
Think
Forty Three.
I
Forty Seven.
Love
Fifty.
You
Fifty five.
You are too much want I want and not enough of what I need.
Sixty two.
I ******* hate you.
Sixty three.
I lie to protect myself.
Seventy one.
You are drunk but I find the courage to talk about it. You tell me we are good friends. We hug.
Seventy seven.
You are not high on sugar anymore. E-E-Enough. Your childhood is over. You are a man.
Eighty three.
We go to the gallery and sit close on the tube. I want to kiss you.
Eighty eight.
You break the shower curtain so I shut the door on us and we try to fix it but you’re too out of it. You hit your head and laugh harder than I’ve ever heard you laugh before. We sit in the bathtub, legs hanging over. Hung-over.
Ninety.
We walk on damp grass and you talk about how weird it is to not see your parents at the dinner table together anymore. You can’t understand why it didn’t work.
Ninety one.
We drive back in your car, in the rain. Music plays. I want to hold your hand.
Ninety two.
You won’t ever listen to me. Please listen one day.
Ninety three.
I
Am
Breaking
Why
Can’t
You
See
It
Ninety four.
You’re not who I thought you were but I still care about you.
Ninety five.
I lend you a Stanley knife. When you carve into that paper, I feel the slice on my palms.
Ninety six.
I can’t save you. You wouldn’t let me if I tried.
Ninety seven.
I am merely a spectator watching you from the crowds. I hope you know I am cheering you on.
Ninety eight.
We are the right people
Ninety nine.
At the wrong time
One hundred.
But that is fate.
And nothing and nobody can deny fate. We will both grow old and I will regret not telling you all these things when my eyes were shining and my complexion smooth. But that it something I must live with, not you.
I want to leave 100 post-it notes in the glove compartment of your car so that when it’s late at night and you’ve stopped at some temporary neon shelter for fuel, you’ll reach over the empty passenger seat or your best friend’s knee and you’ll pull the handle to release 100 different reasons why I loved you.

And a body of beauty
So pick up your floor length and run
Depressed with a heart full of ache
Let it anchor you up to the sun
Sail on through the waves of anxiety
Don’t wait till the sunburn to run.

I think too much
Is that why two years after you wanted to leave this earth
I still can’t get the thought of you collapsing out of my head
Why the idea of you alone in your room
At four in the morning, clambering out of bed
Deciding whether it’ll be a good night to give up your life
Is still in every thought I have, I dread
Those thoughts
The idea of my own future is too much to handle when I still worry you nearly didn’t have your own
I think too much

But were you thinking at all when you drowned yourself in pills
As if paracetemol was the answer
And death was the cure
I couldn’t bring you any closer
You had locked all the doors
But there were broken windows, cracked walls
And I should have seen through them
Maybe that is why I can’t sleep, because my doors are locked tight too.
I think too much
Maybe if I opened my house to you, you would have wiped your scarred feet
And your bony knees could have rested in the warmth of my bed
I would have held your hands for hours, my friend
I would have held them until you fell asleep
Until you didn’t have the energy to find the labelled bottles I still keep
Maybe- Maybe- I could have helped – I
I think too much

I still cry over you
I still cry for you
I feel the blood of your attempts on my own hands
As if they were clasped around your neck
I am not poetic enough
I’m no Lady Macbeth
But the guilt still plagues my skin when I now hug you hello
Because when you are suicidal
No best friend should not know
I think too much

I think about the sirens
Did I hear them that night when they rushed to your place?
Finding sixteen year old child, in her mother’s embrace
Was she crying?
I think about it all the time
Did you pray to the God you’re not sure you believe in?
Did you pray for the end or did you thank him for starting your heart again?
I think about it all the time
Would they have you cremated or buried?
Force you back into the ground before you even had a chance to grow out of it
Like clothes owned previously
Working class families
We bonded over hand me downs
And straps for cash to hold tight what we earned
Would they have dressed you like dolls you could never afford?
Pristine and price tagged
Between us girls, you never suited body bags
Your body shape is best suited to the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe
It does not suit a coffin
Are you finally coughing up the truth now?
The truth is you are alive
You are still alive

I think too much

You were always like a sister to me
And I know things are different now, and we’ve moved away, moved apart
But you still creep into my subconciousness
As if making up
for the two weeks before you told me you’d tried
“I wanted to die” You told me
And in that moment, so did I
It will never stop hurting to imagine it

You are eighteen now
You are beautiful
Smart
All the clichés
But just because something is said often, doesn’t make it untrue
People will never stop saying the words ‘I love you’
I think too much

And that’s why even now that I see you smile
And laugh
And your happiness is so genuine, so true
I still have this incredible, guilt weighing need to write an apology letter to you.
I still don’t think this is enough.
I guess I think too much.

I spent lots of minutes and a deep cup of coffee
with your sister, warding off the rain
and realizing that it was easier to acknowledge
that you've become someone I never met,
who wouldn't call me babesio and give me an Anthurium for Valentines Day
because they were sold out of Cactus's,
I decided it was easier to call you a loser
and laugh at how everything isn't working out;
Life's not what it should have been
for you or us
and nodding along when your sister says
'you're better than him, he'll figure it out'
because it was much easier than acknowledging
that I still only want to wrap you up in a hug
spend all day doing nothing together
and talk about all the grand things we might do someday

I'm okay
Really, I'm fine
But you're not
And that hurts me more than you will ever know