These bruises and scars on my skin
help me remember,

"Yes,


I am still alive."

Countlessly,
I have found myself with the fleeting desire
to be all the people who have replaced me
and those whose memory I was meant to erase.
Though as quickly as I process the thought,
the wish to be who I am not dies
and I am left only feeling shame.

Shame that for even a split second -
I didn't see my worth,
I thought I wasn't good enough,
I compared myself to another.

Although, mainly shame for in that brief moment,
I didn't love myself.

I am a night owl,
a lone wolf
always howling at the midnight moon.

The sun sets
as the people do too
and Darkness comes to caress the minds
of those still holding on
to consciousness.
Many are plagued, violated
by the shadowy tendrils reaching out
to stroke the thoughts of the sentient.

However, I embrace Darkness
as though I would a lover.
Together we maneuver through my mind,
no area left untouched,
yet every scenario and possibility
touched on.

And when the first rays of sun
try to peak from around the curtain,
I somberly say, "So long," to Darkness
and then let Sleep cradle
my unconscious mind.

"You don't know what you have until it's gone,"
Words I've engrained into my brain
from years ago.
Always trying to be thankful
for every little thing.

Yet, you've gone
and I've realized that the pedestal
I always placed you on in my mind,
was simply an illusion.
Every time I said it could be worse,
it actually could've been better.

And now I know
I deserve somebody to value my worth
as a person,
lover,
friend.

Because you don't know what you don't have until it is long gone.

I try to not to feel lonely
when you're talking to your friends,
a huge smile on your face,
laughter coating the words you speak,
your eyes crinkling like they do
when you're overjoyed about something.

I try not to feel self conscious
when you don't touch me like you used to.
You no longer hold me to your chest
like I'm something precious from a dream,
which you desperately try to cling on to.
You never look at me,
at my body,
with stars in your eyes
and fire at your fingertips.

I try to not feel jealous when I see you
with a glowing screen accenting your plump lips,
which are smirking at an irrelevant post,
but that I want kissing my own.
And those eyes of yours I've gotten lost in
too many times to count,
focusing solely on your 3x5 screen,
with me wishing, hoping, praying
you'll look at me again with even just an ounce
of the love we had.

I try not to be selfish
when I ask how your day was
listen to your, "It was absolute ****," rant
and then wait into the early hours of the morning
for you to ask me if I'm alright.



Because I'm not.....

They idly sit upon my shelves;
Some collecting dust from years of neglect,
others with tears, stains, or crinkles
adorning their once pristine, white pages.
There are a select few I revisit frequently.
Yet, most are still strangers to me.
These are my only friends,
though I’m positive if they could sprout legs,
they would leave me too.

Gut clenching
Heart wrenching
Hands shaking
Knees quaking

The feeling of being twisted
wrung out like a soaking wet towel, trying to get
every
last
drop
starts from the middle of my core and spreads out
towards my skin
towards my limbs
like an infectious disease rampaging my body.

Contorting my body into a ball so tight
that my shins bear marks from the iron grips of my fingers
is seemingly the only way to relieve this pressure from within.

Yet,
the only thought running through my semi-conscious mind
while I go through this invisible torture is,
"Why me?"
What sins have I committed in my past lives
which would cause me to endure this kind of pain?

You sat upon your throne
made up of empty cigarette cartons and crushed beer cans.
You thought yourself so mighty and entitled.
Yet, you didn't see it coming, did you?
I left the pathetic kingdom you ruled and enslaved me in.
Like a shadow of death, I gave you one last kiss
and everything as you knew it came
c

r


a



s




h





i






n







g








down.

Oh,
how easy is it for me to simply
forgive the hurt
you caused my soul to endure;
Forgetting
is a whole different matter though.
You must have me under your spell,
for when you’re next to me
I forget every wrong doing you've done,
but as soon as you leave,

every

single

thing

comes down upon me.
Like a wave crashing angrily upon the shore
when the sea is storming;
Like getting caught in a sudden downpour
that drenches and chills you to the bone.
These things I can’t forget
climb into my mouth
and slither down my throat;
keeping my lungs from filling with air
and keeping the heartbreaking sobs in.

after hours, days, weeks of crying
over a love lost
i wondered how the water kept pouring
from my eyes
and how i did not shrivel into nothingness

however
then i realized the correlation
between the bottomless sea
and the endless salty tears
constantly leaking from my ocean eyes

i cut back the branches you ensnared around my heart
just to realize
you also left your thorns deep in the *****
which i will have to agonizingly pull out
one by one

There is more romance in a simple coffee stain
than there is in a single bone from my body.

Bad habits die hard,
or so they say.
Though my bad habits
won't ******* die at all.

Stars twinkle while suspended
in the dark sky above.
Some dim, others bright;
A handful hued, the majority white.
From their perch beyond, and
when their numbers appear multiplied
as the moon is absent,
they whisper, "destiny," to me.

Here I am, trying to convince the world,
trying to convince you,
trying to convince myself, that
I am fine.
A three-word sentence that hides the pain;
not from oneself but from watching eyes.
My troubles stack one on top of the other
forming a skyscraper that burdens me.
Each day it grows bigger and taller
until it collapses
as did the towers on 9/11,
as it does right on top of me.

Cigarettes and I have a
love-hate/hate-love
relationship.
Each drag is like voluntarily
placing my lungs in an inferno to be scorched.
The strongest people I know have
wasted away
because of that cancer-on-a-stick.
I especially hate how
they taint the tantalizing taste
of my lover's lips.
Yet, on rare drunken occasions
or when a thick layer of red coats my lips,
I crave the **** thing.

What makes it so easy
to write personal works
from the heart,
the soul,
the inner workings of my mind
that then you, strangers,
read at your own will,
like, and comment?
Things I cannot even bring myself
to admit to those closest to me
or even yours truly.
The fact baffles me each time
I start typing.

A walking contradiction;
I do not want anyone to be dependent
upon me.
Yet, when no one needs me
I collapse.

I have never understood why people
fear death.

To me, death is like a simple
"good-night"
that one never wakes up from.

Have you ever had one of those days
where sadness takes on an edge
of beauty?
It seems like a contradiction,
an oxymoron.
Although, you can't help but see how
it shines
around the shadow of depression.

I am the yo-yo, hooked to a piece of string.
You are the hand that pulls,
controls the whole mechanism.
As the hand pushes away,
the yo-yo distances itself;
just to be pulled back into the hand
with the slightest tug.
No matter how many times the yo-yo
spins away,
she is always found in the embrace
of the hand yet again.
And no matter how near or far
the hand is to the yo-yo
(or the yo-yo to the hand),
the two are always connected.

Head spinning
Vision tilting
Mind reeling
Stomache heaving

I don't recall my feet leaving the ground
or hopping onto a twisting rollercoaster.
Yet,
how else would the world be rotating
360 degrees,
back-and-forth,
upside-down,
all in the same moment?

From a young age we have been taught
America is the home of the free;
America is the country of opportunity;
here you can be whatever you dream.

So, what do we do?
We follow our dreams
(or attempt to).
We sign our lives away,
we let ourselves be turned into
mind-less zombies,
while building a mountain of debt
throughout the process.
Just to then be told
our dreams cannot be reached.

Go directly to jail.
Do not pass go.
Do not collect $200.

*God Bless America.