I have
been sober
for about
8 months.
Go me.

I am haunted:
Not by poltergeist,
but by my unlived lives.
Parallel universes
won't ever speak,
they took an oath
to keep from me.
I have words and voices
humming in my head
that will never be met
outside of my bed.
I have to accept
I cannot have it all,
I have to accept
knowing nothing at all.

starry eyes with a bold stare
the universe isn't frightening to you
admirable because you are the one percent
the one percent who lives life to the fullest, one hundred percent

curls that your head weeps down
that resemble the salty ocean waves
skin as pale as a snow flake
with sun kissed spots on your crinkled button nose

translucent personality
angelic intentions
a golden silhouette of a heart on your wrist
a kiss that takes and gives air

Who are you?
Who are you?
Who am I?
I couldn't tell you.

I am a shapeshifter.
I have many hues.
My emotions depend
on the feedback of you.

If you love me,
I will shine.
If you play coy,
so will I.

Hurt me,
go ahead and try.
I will turn dark
and blend into the night.

You'll never know
what character I am.
You'll never know
because I don't even know
who I am.

you're my kin
through thick and thin
you've seen me cry
and you've seen me die
reborn into new
and watched me grew
thrived into this bright being
that you're proud of seeing
i love you, broseph
you're dope as ****
i'll always be there
no matter where, i swear

Sometimes I have nothing to write
and I wait for months and months
to pass only to find within time--
I'm still lonely.

Lonely can be so cruel
like solitary confinement
right behind your eyelids
and the sleep you can't awake
rests upon your fate,
you better wake the **** up
before it's too late.

Wake up.
Wake up. Wake up.
My therapist said
something is wrong with my head.
He found a word to describe me,
I never knew I wasn't like me.
Just a piece in a text book...
To describe my whole life.
All the series of traumas,
the abuse and dramas,
patterns and thoughts,
just to be boxed up...

I am not special.
I am nothing great.
But I dont care,
I refuse to ******* cave
into my demise.

Welcome to Hello Poetry
and thanks for following me.
I know it can be tough when you start,
but your poems are always great if they are from the heart.
You'll stay up late awake at night
staring at your computer light
with no thoughts coming to your mind,
ticking your fingers on the keyboard while your teeth grind.
This poem is a thanks
for the times you deal with blanks.
The times you know are tough,
I, too, am familiar with how rough
that feels.
And I swear it never heals,
only goes away temporarily
just to smack you more disparagingly.

So, here's to the poets
who are so fixated on blemishes that they don't even know it.

Blessed that I received rest
that some do not acquire
My toes curling on each fuzzy stair step I make my way up
as my nose follows the familiar scent of coffee beans
I'm drowsy from the dawn sun playing coy
Snug as I could be from the burning wood

kaleidoscopic geometry
                                   and shapes made from sound
human reality
             is an experiment
say hello to the machine elves
                                who reside inside mandalas

She was the home-cooked apple pie I never grew up eating
The drug I never got to favorite
She was the tears I cried confusingly
The oxygen I felt I lacked

She was the poltergeist I saw down my hallway
The illness that manifested into my mental state
She was someone I haven't met but loved, like my father
The magnetic pull I could never reach

Love is persistent
and so are rapists
I could be resistant
but Cupid's grip ain't nothing to **** with

I fall in love
because I am afraid to be alone

Love doesn't really change just because the person did.*



So, when you ask yourself "Am I crazy?" and "Why do I still love them?"
Remember these words.

My heart is slipping up my throat and my eyes are half open
my stomach is ecstatically quivering
I'm high off a smile and my toes are tipped
Blissed-out

all we can
hope for...
wish for...
is to end every
conversation
worthy of a peaceful death

I wish heartbreak
came with a manual.
But honestly,
would it even help?
I imagine it would
be contradicting and maybe
go something like this:
"You may experience
the feeling that you are walking away
from the rarest love you'll ever experience...
But don't you worry,
because even if you stay a little longer,
eventually you'll convince yourself
you don't love them anymore, just enough to finally
end it.
Give it a week.
Oh, there it is... You feel that?
THAT feeling is the numbness wearing off
and only remembering the happy parts."
Or some ******* like that.
Probably nothing that specific though...
Only enough to have the majority relate.
I imagine the narrator would sound
overly enthusiastic...Which is hilariously inappropriate ...
But, really, is it that hilarious?

I thought getting older and
having experience in dating
would result in all of this
**** becoming less confusing...
But it really just feels worse
every time for me.
At the end,
I couldn't even differentiate
the pain and anger from the source.
Did he create this suffering?
Was it my reaction that set the course?
Was this all in my head and I was just overeacting?
Or was I justified to feel this ******?
Even if I was justified, would it have even made a difference?
It really got lost in translation,
and I feel like I got lost in identifying that.
Was this a hypnotic trance from narcissism manipulating the narration or was it using my reaction as an excuse to self-sabotage?
I just want to know what really happened.
I think that's the scariest part.
Am I so broken, I convince myself it was them?
Well, ****.
What are you still reading for?
I don't have the ******* answer.

as vast as a landscape
love as giving as a music festival
as open as promiscuity
clingy like offspring

as innocent as your eyes
stuck as if glue
as bright as the colors you wear
complex like layers

as free as a buddhist
careless little girl
as courageous as an imbecile
patchwork on my heart

I disguised
my fear of commitment
as a hunger for
adventure.
I'm aimlessly floating
as if it's
the bigger picture.

I want to love,
to be loved
like anyone does.
But I'm tainted
with the mind
of a messed up
version of love;
Expiration dates on a heart.

I made myself
believe lives are
destinations
meant to be left
for something
new to obtain.
Like a girl scout badge,
to show off to all of my friends.


I wonder where the
void in my heart exists.
Is it possible it's
from a place I already visited?
I wish I knew
where I belonged.

Boy...
Was I wrong.
All I ever really needed was

to be loved...

A voluntary victim of life
Parasites called eyes
What we see are lies
We learn to segregate our intuition from physicalities
You gotta unfold inward
A paradoxical lesson of how to 'wake up'

Love like a crocheted scarf
that hugs my heart,
time taken dearly to give warmth.