wish i could go back
to falling apart
ive never learned how
to replace it all
its all static
stupid
chasing the fall
like a dog
somehow i get stuck in the tone of its call

guilty for nothing
chewing off cords,
can you hold my hand
like you did before
am i too big
to lay in your lap
i know i wanted to leave
but can i please come back

i am always your eyes
between your ankles on the floor
i’m what you can’t see in yourself anymore

if all the lives i keep living
ill keep forgetting
then which do i get
and who does the living?

am i forgetting something?
am i living somewhere
am i living?
have i ever remembered?

it goes
it gets
so far away from here
i go
i get
so much farther from where
i remember

i don’t call
i don’t text
i cant remember
where i left my bed

i cant remember
where i left my bed

i think that its pretty far away from here.

the aftershock of knowing that
nothing will come after this

19 years of hoping, longing, asking
where did that pain go? that waiting?
the bliss of knowing that
all that comes after will always compare to this
the worst part of my day is over
the best time of my life is 2 years younger

the begging, the feeling of hoping that
I can still taste you, smell the smoke on your breathe
the realization that
you took from me the only thing I thought would make sense

you look so small atop that mountain, the way down
and mine - I'd hope - so large - as I hit the ground
the aftershock of knowing that this never was a good thing,
you were just your lips and my sense was the protagonist missing.

i dont know if you remember
the last words you said
tangled in feeling it replays
as if youre me and i am dead
do you know how long it took for you to get out of my head?
and you’re back
a middle name
a feeling im fearing wont come back
a moment
the why my breathe spreads on your neck
do you know how long it takes for me to feel like youre not there?
you linger like the name i remembered, the eyes i cant forget
and youre across from me, and i said
“how did i get u back?”
and you said
nothing
like the way my name still lingers on your breathe
how long do i have to wait until i feel your fingers again?
you have such a way with glances
a middle name
a look that i just cant get
you are every word ive never learned
and im the last girl you said

there is a visceral feeling somewhere in there
but it hides amongst the trees, leaves dripping
with green, stems are broken bonds, water used to flow in these veins,
but now they are fluent, transparent now, clear and immobile

toxins fall onto your skin, pesticides and poison
seeping in as to
make you stronger, eventually
despite the pain you feel

it hurts too hard to scream, so you are silent in this growth
through this sickening feeling in your bones
if she can make you stronger, if she says she must,
then well, its not like you’ve ever had anyone else to trust

she tears you raw, rips you barren but it is the only love you’ve ever known,
she says you can leave, it’s okay to be gone
but where else is there to to?

it’s all routine at some point
but i feels more wrong amongst the years
there is no breaking point, no period of knowing
just a crashing, a noticing of scraped bark.
a hallow feeling and empty branches
a blinding enlightenment amongst the darj

are you parched? starved?
have you noticed that there is rot where once was heart?
this venom has reached its end, and you are the strongest you could get
weak, fragile, weighed down
but stronger now
in awareness all around

and so she asks if you need water, offers you peace, family, vinegar
fix it now, you say or imagine, because you have become so utterly afraid of her
with dead leaves and less roots
she harvests you with a fiery hunger

but amongst the hunger,
these years of growth,
there is no produce in this lumber
this tree is seas and crass and venemous
so she throws you out,
without knowing she had caused this

forget brushing trapped teeth
i’m full of them
locked bathroom doors
and stars sweep you off your feet

i’m in the backseat of your car
sunlight, mountains, enough of talking
enough of me
i can see the end of the world from here

do you remember me?
crashing slowly, tears underneath sheets
a hallow heart, trying to be nice
melting hears under sweltering heat

i learn to be silent
winding roads, and the eclipse, all gone
reasoning is hard when eyes are open,
sad season is lost, and you’re lost when it’s not

i’m sorry you’re getting away from me
i’m full of it
tourist towns and rickety ****
i’m sorry i haven’t felt any of this trip

terrible memories clouded with
bright green grass, brown, wood and ash
forests speak in your dreams, vacant floors
empty shelves and unraveled curls

coffee cup to the moon, praying, begging
“close this moment, lock it up, make it right”
i’ll cry and scream to make this what i want it to be
pretty thing, i wouldn’t say it’s fine
but you can twist this whichever way you want it to seem

we knew it couldn’t work
i followed her into the hole in my heart and
she built a home there right from the start
she led me to the city’s edge
and i followed right to the end
we kept a mutual knowing between growing distance
between the coffee dates and
stolen glances
and restless ways
we’d wring out our hands
and i knew it couldn’t work
i told them about you
and it felt good, it felt new, it felt different
but i let me get the best of you,
and you faded away with all I couldn’t give you
our love was as good as dead and
we didn’t last anywhere
just in new york, in my dreams
in the world in my head

in a couple of years time ill ask if you understand
and we’ll do it all again
knowing we’re done before it ends

Fess up.
Empty-handed, palms face down on the table.
It won’t get louder unless you let it.

Chest up.

Breathe in the smell of smoke you’ve spread.
Do you feel like harming yourself?

Will you let it?

Let nothing consume you.
Don’t let your empty hands ruin you,
Until you’ve something to show for it.

Untether it.

Feel yourself shatter to pieces.
DNA into grain, skin turns to gray.
Choke on the white noise in your chest until you’ve given into it.

Until you can’t.

feeling unkempt
left me untethered, you caught the next cab
south of any air
ill keep close ithaca, warm me from the inside, heading anywhere
be too loud for me
perpetually alone
keep me far from anything ive not learned i need to know

and earthly ties they’ll ask for closure
while the bed pulls you closer
feeling unkempt
choked me breathless, i climbed an unsteady ladder, running out of air
ill be dumb for you, bliss
wrap me in illusion
evidently ill be consequently blind for you
perpetually forgone
any sense of known
tell me again, call me your fool
feeling unkempt

ill forget me again for you.

therapy feels harder
permanence feels present in the birthday candles im forced to blow out
my door pushed open
my priorities in shambles

my work key twists the latch in my soul and holds it there
i am what i do
so then how am i nothing?

hugs are asked for, harder
days feel shorter and my gas tank feels somewhat hotter
its all creeping up on me now
this is when you are supposed to feel something, right?
if i am what i do
i’m hoping at one point i’ll be you.

get out of my sleep baby
cut it out of me
summer is lost so
let me go
cut the care out baby
let it drain out of me
i dont care about faking hope

an empty brain
almost as empty as the road ahead
it feels a bit painful to stay so still
and think so hard of nothing

its not loneliness
not a feeling
no, this is objective
i AM alone

headlights pass my peripheral
the darkness is tainted
more ghostly
silent

dont do anything stupid
11:25pm
please?
11:26pm

are you tired yet?

there is no rhythm to my poems anymore
i've lost touch, lost the skill to manifest these thoughts
perhaps the ability to think
my thoughts have congealed, melted, turned my eyelids from red to pink

it is exhausting
feeling nothing without knowing of apathy
it is like drowning
but you just never sink

i want a movement, baby
i want pain and a heart on the side
letting things go is like watching myself die

living life is not living if it is all for the wait
i want to feel the sun on my bones
feel my soul for a change

when does it get better than this?
never knew myself to be so lazy, tired, stoic, stained
i want to be myself or whoever else for a day
i can't seem to shake this feeling again

the water's changing
finding places to sink into
breathing deep
breathe's my type of food

we're getting older and
as i'm drifting further
i'm feeling farther from
myself

it's tight, again
i'm crammed, crying again
it's taken a while to lift my head
to see the light of hope again

i'm missing something but
it's beckoning
it's a pre-quarter-life crisis
it's pretty close to failure

my mind's buzzing
rarely sleeping
it's taken me seven months to realize
i miss therapy

it's no fun again
it's drivin off a cliff
it's tiring and it's dark out at 4pm
i'm trying to look somewhere else

maybe close my eyes instead

i really been out here
really been missing myself

i wish i could write about love

the winter breathes
tense, tension, and all chest
the windy bones,
forests applaud,
they all want to know.
i wish i could
witness this midnight snow
rarity is reaccurring
friends are fleeting
so in love it’s numbing
the ground could expand
countries close to coasts
and still the feeling of red
won’t leave me alone

but like i get it
its prom season
and everyone’s in love

but while your floating
im drowning
and love can’t bring me up

I woke up with my world in my hands
my world in numbers (worth), old hands (family), shared trauma (all of the above)
I wish I could feel like a kid again, spine bent and mind in tact
Clocks ticked and there was no meaning in relationships
I’m not old, I know
But I’m more of what I know, or less of whatever before, I don’t know
But I know: I’m perpetually alone, out-of-zone, proud and somewhat undone
I’m five years to 21 and I love my mom.
I’m body, all broken and sunken in. I’m unaware of mostly nothing at all
Pretentious and stuck up. Beautiful and ****** up.
Everything and all of it or none of the above.
I’m undecided, but that’s not a check in the box
I’m sad and I’m exhausted but you can’t major in that, can you?
I’m too tired to talk to you but I know that’s not an excuse.
So maybe I’m 21. Maybe I hate my mom. Maybe I’m not alone.
Maybe I live in a condo on the West Side and maybe I’ve checked into one.
Maybe just maybe I don’t need to know anything about me at all
Maybe I’m a question mark.
Or maybe I’ve missed it.
****.

one day, buy art supplies instead of clothes

choose not to trust many of those around you, except for the stars and strangers
love them more than yourself
let yourself feel something else
just for a month

it does not take a year to rewind
only a mindset
it’s all temporary if you want it to be

look at what only you want so see
take your life back and listen
hear the wind
and go with it.

and so here we are in pieces

theres something about this starving that
feels so appetizing
something about this apathy
this undecided feeling, something about this week
that seems so far from real

maybe it's the way i love the word haunting
the daunting snarl of crumbling
papers on homework after homework but somehow you're still failing
it's filling your lungs over and over with air
breathing in until you've lost feeling just to notice
you are still drowning

maybe it's the trust you lack in others
maybe it's in your inability to speak to anyone lest they ask first, waiting until the very last second before you complete something you hadn't done,
stressing over a list you've yet to make
feeling like your heart might burst with every bite you take

maybe it's friends, (or a lack-thereof) maybe it's you seeing them with so much love, maybe you've just become jealous or perhaps not enough?
it might be double texting on airplane mode, wishing you could have anything to say though you never really cared much about them anyway and...
and maybe they just hate your guts

but
maybe it's just you

maybe it's simply "another thing you've found to worry about"
maybe it's "because you're always on that phone"
maybe you've been the one in the wrong all along

because hey, those who stress so much about themselves but be selfish right? must be jealous. must be hard thinking of yourself so much that you've become a walking time bomb with a ticker that can never turn off.
must **** knowing nothing and thinking you know it all.
anxiety must be rough...
but maybe you're just not anxious enough?

(2)

Oh,
So it is bad again

But it's never the same is it?
It's always something, isn't it
It's lonely but unfamiliar
A minute and you're here, there,
you forget to breathe so you panic
go figure.

summer seemed like a dream but I've passed on now, and I'm beginning to wake myself up
you see these people in love
but I can't even unwrap my ******* tongue

it's hurts to think that you might never become
and you just wanna talk to someone, anyone
but isn't this the start you asked for from God?
my god, doesn't it seem so hard to believe in me anymore?

this patience of mine is wearing thin and what happens when it isn't
when an impossible wish, a sorry strength, a terrible addiction to perseverance what happens when it isn't?

i'm gone, or perhaps this is all
i've moved, i've waited for months, now what?

be yourself
but then who's in control?

bathroom floors always feel colder at night
and
i guess depression can never quite leave ones mind
and
i guess my dad can never get his head on right
but
its all in my head, these things
its all make believe
right?

weve been edging on a state all summer
and
perhaps i forgot the difference between happy and apathy
but
you know ******* everything don't you?
cuz i cant feel a ******* thing

i said i felt good or good enough
but i chased this demon and boxed it up
i spun stories all undone now, figured out pushing down is better than falling flat on the ground

bring me to church and even closer to tears again
show me the things i hadn't known i'd been trying to forget
and
hold my shaking arms as i fall apart in your hands and
ask me if i feel so tough
is that enough?
will it ever be ******* enough?

its a bitter thing these limbo summers are.

i met my fate as the orange grass met the sky
while i stood coddled up in sunlight, studious to some remnant of hope, either frequent or terminal

i sat cradled in tears screaming, speak or swallow me up
but perhaps the words came in sleep, or the bottom of my coffee cup
dripping into my sleep and bursting from buds
music to my ears or the flowers growing in love

i met my fate at the edge of the suburbs, when i disappeared into my head, barefoot and hungry, dashing into forests, so numb, holding my weight in heavy rising lungs.
i was fading, perpetual, my own burning constant.
haunted and gaunt, and hardly ever conscious

i met fate on the edge of chance, of a good luck charm. of a missing someone.
i met fate in the words tangled in tongue
where all you sing is unsung

and if you can't walk, you'll run

it doesn't seem like summer anymore
this untangle of distance between me
and waiting for me to be me
it feels like too long weekends
and a too long endless errand
it doesn't feel like gloss and honey
like sun rays hitting suntanned tummies
it doesn't feel safe
just like i'm playing too safe
like the sun just makes me insane

and so i purchase to feel
wear to trick people into thinking
i am worth something just by
the linen and cotton that cover this decay
i call a body
i'm forgetting days
like they're old phone numbers
i just remember the beat to my favorite song
the chords i play on my guitar
the agony of symptoms that lasted too long

the never-answered questions of
am i doing enough?

because the answer is always no
and i'm stuck in a non existent loophole
where everything is go or no go
and god knows we can't have both
and so i'm stuck again, between truth and false
between me and feeling
between feeling or falling

seeing or fleeting.

yes, i do the let phone ring and ring and ring until it stops choking me as your name flickers off the screen
i let your name linger on my lips like some sort of bad dream
i lie awake shedding layers and wanting to scream, do you know how much of me you haven't seen?
do you think of me as you go to sleep?

and maybe i do shine light on things i'd rather keep inside, maybe i dwell on things when they've already been unraveled away. maybe i think too much and fill myself with sad songs and one word answers and pity filled sighs, maybe i act like a child and curl up and hide when things get too wild, and maybe i do lie.

but i miss how your hand felt in mine, i miss talking to you without thinking before every line, i miss how i would associate you with a field of light. but now you make me want to die.

i'll miss you as you were,
but never as you are now.

i hope you learn to grow in yourself,
move yourself around a bit,
fill that obvious pit in your stomach

maybe then you'll have some room left to squeeze me in.

i forget what i need,
replacing the bubble up of unwanted thoughts with heavy heaves and maybe some other unprecedented love

the kind of love that doesn't make you choked up, stuttering over words you can't get out and holding back laughs in the back of the room, instead i stay;
head down
eyes shut
block them out
close it up

it's hard to end what could have
but it's easier that it didn't
i'm not patient therefore I cannot wait for you, and I cannot wait until you've changed your mind, felt what you've missed, lost what you almost had. could have had, didn't want, or was too ignorant to see.
if you wish to forget me
so it shall be
i will not stand in the corner, drooling for you, for negativity and the i cannot do without you mentality. i will not envy, for i will see all i can deal without.
i've lost too much to waiver over how these things could have been.
i will not miss you
for you will see what i'll grow into
what i can become without you

how comfortable life is without a filter and a hand around your throat.

i wake at the sound of waves thrashing wildly
they whisper
"close your eyes"
"feel it"
they wash over
but never strong enough to pull me in
i think it's getting stronger
please

pull me under

today i found out that i don't belong in the city
that close perimeters and heat and hustle is not me
that the glint of glare on high glass is not the shine my eyes need
though sun on open roads and in trees is and the feeling of discreet
that is what it means to feel free

i want to drive on open roads
convenience stores, dusk til dawn, houses that actually come built with lawns
'no trespassing' signs on paved paths
not the sound of a cars horn, but of the chatter and noise of a birds laugh
i want to feel alone in myself
all the while feeling more of me than any else
i want to feel good
and look good
and let you take me out when the night is pleasant

but to come home with another foreign sunset
a homemade, plant based, natural toothpaste kind of place
with people of all kinds
waving hello and goodbye
feeling flushed and content with the wink of an eye

i wish, if for nothing else at all,
to feel at home in this world
i wish for my time to be finally made mine.

i wish to feel present
never five steps ahead of time

i don't know if i look weak anymore
perhaps i've changed appearance
unrecognizable to others
and to myself
i no longer know who i am

i ask for advice
only to be given time
to wait
just wait it out
just keep holding on
well how long is holding on?
how long until this all stops?
you say to tailor on
to remember and practice and revise and do something and feel something and god ****** why can't  i feel anything?

you've felt numb before
this isn't it
this is beyond numb
this is disorder and some

you float on
'hold on'
but it never comes along
there's not much hope you can find in songs
routine is taking too long

i want to fall through the floor i stand on

there is a girl who wanders. who finds the beauty in all and finds herself in it as well. in every upturned rock and flower picked, a bit of her own is discovered as well, a new color, a smell, another layer of an endless aura. she would pull apart the stems of plants to see the water pour out, and lick the sweet of honeysuckles until she was sick to her stomach. everyone knew her as the girl who wanders, the girl whose head was stuck in the clouds, so much so that she memorized them, counted the blades of grass and watched the dew appear every morning. she was one with nature as it was with her...
until the day she began to wonder.

the facts she once knew of the earth began to turn into questions; into 'how' and 'why's, and the beauty no longer appeared, it now existed. she was searching instead of finding, feeling lost as she reeled through the forest. she thought, "why do the baby birds fall from the trees and never return? who would let such a thing occur?". every turn and twist morphed into something unanswered, her mind became filled with thoughts. it became so full, there were no flowers to grow anymore and nothing new to flourish them. now, when she pulled apart the stem of the plant, she would complain of the stickiness of it, how it contaminated her fingers. she would glare at how the dew dampened her new shoes, how the rocks made scrapes on her feet and the smell of pollen would make her sneeze. she felt grown up, but at the same time, empty (although filled with questions). every day was a repeat of the last, something always new to ruminate over and nothing to give her peace of mind.
nothing was fun anymore.
it all grew a bit too tiring for her.

on some days, the earth would try to remind her, to bring her back to it, but it was always unsuccessful. it would whisper in her ear, "please come back, we miss you..." but the coldness of the wind startled her and she hissed at the way it ruffled up her hair. there was no point, she wasn't the same girl anymore. instead of being filled with wander and discovery, she was bitter and empty. she went through life as if she was on the outside of it, looking in, barely able to reminisce on her old ways, only jealousy and sadness accompanied those thoughts...
ghost thoughts...she would call them. transparent and far away, something she could hardly imagine were real.

she would grow apart from the things she loved, too distracted to look back and rethink her actions. instead she trudged forward, only ever feeling grounded in her sleep.
ever so slowly, her sleep began to feel a bit more permanent. she would sleep and sleep and sleep, hoping that maybe in her dreams, she would find her way back to the forest. she never did.

she would sleep until her eyes became heavy, heavy, heavy, and heavier until she could no longer hold them up. into a deep sleep she tumbled...

and still there the forest did not appear.

we've all written what we can
hands tied and intuition bound by
people and things and always more things

giving all i can
just to be dealt even less than
i came with
leaving with less life than i arrived

weight pushing more than your elbows on your desk
more than the palms on your brows
the teeth grinding, closed shut eyed, a 'fine' suffices while still petrified

we wait and wait and wait for change
like a poor man on the street
begging to be set free
but the week ends and the day begins and we start again and again and again and we wait
and we stay still
stay stagnant
fight the urge to projectile *****
but we stay still in silence.

good habits can't be broken
just rewritten.

i've been staggering lately
decided that i'm not even fooling anyone
kidding myself maybe, though

it's eat, guilt, repeat
eat, guilt, repeat
100, 200, never exceed the 3

i'm smart.
so why do i leave my jacket at home
so i can burn off that extra 21?
"why do you have that memorized?"

blood shot eyes,
therapy,
emergency rooms,
believe it or not,
telling me i have OCD
gives me no ******* clarity

and then what if it's worse?
times change people change
but my yearning for another life
remains the same.

i know its not a joke
but i tried to code my suicide note yesterday
mom says where's the smart girl i used to know?
we tragically had to let her go

111.2 is getting harder and harder to get used to.

how are you doing?

perhaps i am holding secrets
and the holder is keeping me captive
like my mind has been caged up
imagination flew someplace far off

and everyones in love now
while i pretend to care about things
when I'd rather just drown

i dont ******* get that i dont get it
that this thing im searching for might just be impossible to find, might just be broken.

wish i could say i didnt care
wish i was strong enough for my lies to even sound half believable
wish waking up in the morning didn't seem so insufferable

i wish i knew i was loved.
or at least what that even feels of.
i wish i could stop acting so ******* tough.
i wish i had the power to say i even really knew anyone.
i wish my mother speaking in tongues stopped making me feel so uncomfortable.

how am i doing?
i feel numb
i feel empty and full and useless and like im being used.
sometimes i feel like even my dog hates me.
so how am i doing?
i don't really have a clue

maybe i should go back to plan A.
i wish i remembered how to pray.

try not to become so distracted
or maybe
become a bit more

get lost in something, whatever it may be. it is healthy to be challenged intellectually every once in a while. push your limits. find something you've never thought twice about and pull all of the emptiness and boredom and anxiety and twist it into something beautiful. dissect it, examine it, create from it. always give yourself permission to feel. we know this already, that logic and thought sometimes refuse to mix, so separate the two and create something impossible. challenge yourself. everything in this life can find ways to shove you down, but how will you overcome by laying stagnant?

holding your ground is not bad, but remember the things that bring you joy. loosen up. hold onto other things. look ahead a bit more often. immerse yourself in life.

my mind doesn't work right when it has to
and i come home to sulk
never anymore, to do
and yes.
i am angry

i am too sad to cry
too angry to yell
not ready yet, to speak.

i wish my hands could speak for me
but they're bound
and with every struggle,
it is tightened

im starting not to see anything beyond this
i blink and im here again
pinch myself and im still here
you always wake up from sleep

and alright, I don't have the guts to **** myself
my mother has drilled hell in my brain like a nail
but hell isnt a place
its a feeling
a presence
or a lack there of.

and so yes
i am angry.
ive played so many songs on wordless strings
strung chords to sound like sobbing
and for what?
i am still angry
and tomorrow i will be angry
i will blink, and still
ill remain angry
and when you wake up from your slumber,
you will stretch out the feeling in your bones
relish in the last seconds of moonlight
you will look outside,
see the sun,
see the people,
see yourself,
and you will still be angry.
you will be played unfairly and be angry.
you will always remain the way you are.

it a scary thing to face alone,
anger, or bitterness.
but perhaps the scariest of them all,
is the length we will go to escape it.

be angry
be bitter
but always play fair.

i taught myself to be who i am
perhaps my life isnt always all that it seems
weeks i cant remember, but it's easier to recall my dreams
the literal, not future

because what future can be seen
when there is so much in the way?
my thoughts are like a strainer
holding the negative
and watching all the positive drip through
maybe ill feel better when the ticking stops
when the little hand meets the 3 on the clock
maybe when my weight starts to dust itself off
or when i fall in love
when I finally feel satisfied enough to just sleep it off

its getting harder to stay awake
to make my running thoughts run away
its getting more difficult to feel much of anything lately

do you see behind their words?
youve been wrapped around their finger so much that youve rung out
a shell of a man is what you have become

do they love you or the promises you make?
do they know how much for her youve thrown away?

nah, they never bend until theyve broken anyway
and youll turn around and everyone will be gone
whipped is what they call it
but how long will you wander?
you should quit your head for a real friend

wait til i take it
what will it take for you to stop?
will i have to stop telling myself over and over that its not fake its not fake its too real to be fake
"theres nothing he cant take"

im so sorry my problems arent real enough for you
somethings my mother wont know
though
its hurts to know it hurts her
forgetting has always been my sort of forgiveness

a friend of mine once told me that the opposite of love, is to be
self centered
but the opposite of love is not selfishness
but selflessness

i am too self reliant to fall in love
not dependent enough
too busy not trusting myself
to believe someone else could dare to not let me go

i hope it feels good
hope her hands burn like the words burning me to conceal yours

theres always been a slither of hope
in my point of view
maybe that hope is only small for a few.

these little talks of ours are getting repetitive
i repented on the floor of my brothers bedroom
i repented on a busride on my own at 1am
in the ibuprofen pills locked away somewhere

these talks are seeming less like talks
and more like tradition
there is no hope in me left to question
if im being honest here
(and ive always been)
the line between help and harm
is very blurry right about now

maybe ive accepted what has come to be
that only of us is coming out alive
and it wont be me

ive only one question left
and its important
what the hell did you get out of this?
cause ive lost everything

my heart never aches for hearts ive never known
selfishness is something ive learnt to live with
holding apathy close like a positive trait
like loneliness is a medal to be proud of
but i know its not

fear tastes like metal on skin
and ive grown to hide things in plain sight just to avoid letting anyone in
my mind is like a broken computer
loading
loading
never letting
neverending
forever pending

supposing that these things are irrelevant
id bet on letting people i love go
though id rather have feeling gone
then being alone

if He could only spare a minute of time
to listen to my damp shoes on pavement
or the way i never seem to look someone in the eye
maybe then
he'd show a sign

perhaps the fighting ceases where another war begins

my depression has become so apparent that it goes unnoticed
that thought terrifies me

ive become so good at acting like i understand how my mind works
maybe so good that it believes me
ive gotten so bad with words
that i cant recognize my own writing

its getting harder and harder to scribble out just one letter
its been months
im not doing any better

sometimes she cries when she prays
think she's got it all worked out
sometimes the ocean only waves
never stays

she couldve held me through this
i know i dont deserve it
but ima still be selfish

im trying to be the good one here
but its so hard to hear anyone cheer me on
im working on it alright
wearing the same clothes twice
forgetting to eat
letting my phone die

"what are you going to do when im not around?"
my mind only drifts to the sound
you'll let me out
keep my mouth shut
eyes on the floor
my back to the door
can't tell anybody anything anymore

feel like youre hating me more and more

i am far from finding home here

the letters my eyes have skimmed from my brain

are all wishing me farewell

even the clouds wave me away

this path is better walked alone

and nothing i say is ever set in stone

no deadlines are due

nothing i say gets to you

or is said in truth

comfort is a fleeting nostalgic feeling
maybe my comfort 
is when I’m uncomfortable 

let my heartbeats lead the way

in time with my steps

forget everything you’ve ever learned
don’t reminisce in the voices 
you’ve never heard

im tired of trying my best for people who wont for me
im tired of feeling out of place in a place i never asked to be
I have not looked anyone in the eyes for weeks
living isnt living if you're losing

my mother asked me if i wanted to speak
i told her
i never want to have to speak
never wanted to be asked to speak
only statements can be said to me
questions make me seem weak

do you know what it feels like
not to recognize a thing?

the sound of my own voice has never been so distant
ive never felt so less selfish

she said
not to pity myself
i said
there is nothing to pity
i am fine
but everything else isn't

the incline is so much shorter than the fall
i wish i could physically touch
the thing holding me up

maybe then we wouldnt feel so far apart

no no
stop wasting your own time
but im so good at it!
im in love with a love thats not real
in love with feeling like a big ******* deal

its always me for me or
me versus me
if none of me wins
then whos to blame

if all me's in this
then why does me
feel so worthless

is it apathy if i
feel apathetic?
is all i am just
a walking contradiction?

i cant justify the sound of my own footsteps
but i can justify hers
or some random strangers

if it takes 21 days for a habit to stick
how the hell do i make happy a habit
nothing feels like a feeling to me


if nothing is a feeling and isnt
then what does it feel like?

i am so numb to my own negative emotions
that every unfortunate thing that occurs
is another thing to add to the never ending list

my brain feels like its matted with hair
like its stuffed with cotton
and like it's empty all at once

i know when i get bad
and im bad

i need to stop cutting hair off and acting like its some metaphor for my depression
its not

all this faking is driving me mad
this is all a dream
i hope