Shirtless, barefoot, and
reeking of self-loathe;
he sat in silence
at the edge of his mattress.
Studying the black
lettering on the face of
the prescription bottle
through bloodshot eyes.
His name indicated in bold
just above the RX number.

Aloud he read the words
Amphetamine Salts
To the layman- adderall:
A quick fix for your
run of the mill '*****-up'.
But to him it meant yet
another night without sleep.
One more night away from his demons.
Without the crippling nightmares;
The reoccurring remembrance
of events no longer (if even ever)
within his immediate control.
Glancing over at the clock-
counting quickly on fingers,
he’d figured it’d been about
sixty-four hours since his last sleep.

The lack of rest accompanied by
excessive alcohol consumption,
was making things hazy.
Days bled into one another.
His eyes started playing tricks.
Now sitting up straight,
he applied pressure to the
childproof lid, and twisted.
Plunging his fingers into the bottle,
removing two more pills,
he held them for a moment—
Then, with the help of a
flat, warm, beer swallowed
another twelve guaranteed
hours without sleep.

Laying back, legs hanging
off the edge of the bed
muscles aching,
stomach growling,
eyeballs burning;
content in knowing
he'd die before ever
facing that dream again.

i'd rather look at him
than look really anywhere

and when i look anywhere else
it's cool to be holding his hand

sometimes the light hits my world so perfectly, and i always have picture perfect moments of sun beams on his smile
he'll remember me squinting (trying to see past the glare)

My mania tells me things and I obey
Like:
You should dye your hair three different colors in one week
Like:
You should stay up all night finger painting and call it art
Like:
You should organize your bookshelves
based on sensations instead of genre
Like:
You should give away everything you own,
you don’t need it anyway
Like:
You should text all of your exes,
ask them when the feeling faded
or if it was ever even there
Like:
You should ignore all of your phone calls
and alarm clocks
and all other sounds
that make your skin crawl
Like:
You should cover your windows with black sheets
and pretend that life is one long night
you never have to sleep through
Like:
You should distance yourself
from everyone you love
tell them you’re okay
you just have to go away
for awhile
Like:
You should tear off your layers
expose the wounds beneath
wait for the sting to turn numb again
Like:
You should shatter yourself to pieces
pretend they can be lost
and found again
Like:
You should hide anything that hurts
in the space between your ribs
forget they’re growing
forget they’re spreading
forget they’re waiting
all winter long
to bloom like flowers in the spring

I am 16
And I have found love in a
boy who is 5 years older than me.
He tells me he loves me and I
lose myself in him.
He breaks my heart, twice.
We still keep in touch.

I am 20
I have found love in a girl
with curly blonde hair and eyes
like the sea. She holds my hand
and sings to me, kisses my forehead.
We haven't spoken in a year.

I am 21
I think I have found love.
He doesn't acknowledge what we
are in public and he thinks insulting
me is funny. He kisses me like he loves me
though, so I tell myself it's enough.
He moved miles away; I think he was
just as lonely as I was.

I am 22*
She's the one. Her hair is never
the same color and sometimes
she laughs too loud. She has scars
that she regrets, but she's doing
everything she can to keep going.
She is me, and I am in love.

When you're sixteen you have the illusion that your invincible, that life never ends and you cant be touched, a weak since of morality. But the fact is, everyone's being is riding on a pulse. Death is inconsiderate of age, no matter if he was only sixteen and the other only eighteen.

I hope you're up there playing football with the pros, you used to tell me that was your dream,
before you passed...at only sixteen.

There's just something about the way your eyes shine at two in the morning.

drowning as a cliche
hoping a wave might catch my gaze
and pull me all the way under
(I am all the way under your covers)
wearing black as a default
maybe looking like a bruise will get rid of my black eyes
they've got dark circles from dreaming with them open
(I am awake for some of my best dreams and worst nightmares)
cracking my bones as a hobby
i like it when you're around to crack me, too
crack me open, apart
until my ribs loosen and fall across your carpet
where we'll float in thick salt water
and wait for another wave of covers
because your bed sheets might always be a little tangled
and mixed in my long blonde hair

your sheets add a nice scent to it

sometimes things get blurry and i stand up dizzy,
wondering in what world this might feel like reality
and when i turn around or focus back in on what i like to look at most
it's still his hands
so i'm not just dreaming, right?
every mixed signal or forehead to desk kind of day
makes me wonder how much life counts when you're wishing it away

whatever happens,
-i will remember the time we hiked off the path and laid beneath the trees just before a storm
you took my glasses off and the leaves blended together
(we weren't sure we'd find our way back)
-i will remember the time you casually tried to find a sturdy log to kiss me on
pretending the plan wasn't to get me rustled in the dirt anyway.
on the walk to the car, you tripped me into your arms
i giggled, you smiled
and you looked so great with the sun shining through your hair
-i will remember holding back "i love you"s in your bed sheets

as I stared at my reflection,
the words "you're not good enough" clouded my mind
the person looking directly at me, was not me
it wasn't the person I wanted myself to be
I spent years and years trying to perfect myself in a way where I would be "good enough"
I let every insult slowly tear the very skin that made me human
I wanted to live up to the expectations my parents had,
only to be disappointed with innumerous failures set up along my path
but then I realized
after beating myself up day and night and
after i had no skin left to tear,
that humans weren't meant to be "good enough"
us humans were meant to be better
from then on,
I grew on skin so thick even words couldn't puncture it