I'm a hellspawn suffering, in a world of angels
Perfection and happiness, so never attainable
alienated from the ones I love,
turbulent but forever low.
Dying slowly and bathed in anguish,
emotions I'll never show.

Ballad of the Baphomet's first born, my seventeenth and final poem
soul is forever split down the middle but I always lean to evil, I don't know how or why.
guess that's what happens when you expose a tortured soul.
thought I'd find warmth in love, but you know how that goes

cuz tenacity and optimism, were seeds that were never sewn
I sound pessimistic but happy feelings I've outgrown
in my soul I feel a torrential void of darkness and repressed unshowns
and fire where the demons lurk,
it's no surprise I'm alone.  

cuz no one's a ******* artist, I'm a minority in my household
and in my country too.

always defeated, always retreating
no-one to run too, I have to face my demons
but I lost that fight, my entrails hang from the ceiling
gave them passage to my heart, through the ****** sequins
I smoke cuz I'm afraid of the thoughts i think when i don't sleep enough
like how I'm worthless and undervalued,
the true thoughts I optimistically decline.

I know you love me but I don't love myself
and that's the ******* problem, I got ******* problems
and no way to solve them
except a brain and solemns,
but they don't solve my problems.
Cuz it's in the silence,
that I hear the violence,
between my eyelids,
and that's why I don't sleep I cry.

i have four dimensions, soul, mind, body and spirit
but i'm down to three, cuz i sold my body to spirits
lost my mind, and now my spirit's gone too
nothing but a shell and his soul, is this what it's come to?

goodbye world, I'll miss you dearly
but I'm not right for you, you've shown that clearly
I can't even die in peace, cuz the silence speaks
it has my voice, it says
"Cry to me, I gave you darkness and I can take it back.
Give me your last dimension, and I can save you.
Your soul's already broken, might as well let me fix it
I'll give you the debts the world was owing you, and three sixes
and for future reference you can call me savior."
and I sat there, didn't have **** to say
but I did look him in his eyes
and I said *******; but ask me later.

and there it is, my descent into madness.
But what you call madness is my clarity.
My self-realization would be stigmatized by your ignorant labels.
Amazing how what we, well, what you don't understand is suddenly the enemy

Which was my epiphany,
I feel like an enemy, a demon, a virus, because I am
because you don't understand me that's how you see me
what I am, is an artist
a minority among the untaught evils that rule our society

So instead of me speaking like a rebel without a cause
I'll talk to you like an artist.
I'm Raffiki in a space-suit, I'm ice king in a nebula.
I'm so spaced out that my toes dance on the belt that bind big planets
long story short I'm a wizard, I'm not of this world and never have been

What if I died today?
I wonder how that would play out.
well for one thing I guess my parents would know I really was depressed
but **** them, I want to know how everything else would play out.

My dogs would be sad as **** and I'd feel bad for them.
but I feel like everyone else would get over it, eventually.
I can't really think of anyone who'd really miss me,
weird how the thing I'm most scared of is being forgotten.

Wouldn't be very hard to either.
What have I really done, well, I went to school.
Didn't really do much besides that
I was a friend, but an enemy too.
I was a lover, but a fighter the same.
I was an angel, but a demon in the end.
I was fun, but also very annoying.
I could keep going but you get the gist.

I'm not writing to anyone in particular this time, this poem is for whoever needs it.
No, not the depressed ones, we get enough "special treatment".
We have parents who "care"
Friends who "care"
Teachers who "care"
But to be completely honest I don't care
I keep talking about my problems and nothing (or no one) helps.
Which gets me thinking that I'm the problem.  

This is for everyone who's happy.
To you I say,
enjoy your happiness, the day you lose that you lose everything.

And no,
you're not gonna lose your car, home, kids, partner, etc.
but they'll lose you.

I can't talk
even if I could why would I?
no seriously, give me a reason.
I mean, when I'm high I can give you every reason in the world,
but in times like these, the lows, I just don't know.
It's like all of a sudden nothing matters except how beautiful the world is
and how badly I wanna **** everyone in it for ruining it.
But that's school shooter talk, my friends already think I'm suicidal, well, they know I'm suicidal.

Sometimes, well times like this, it scares me to know that most, if not all, of my happiness comes from a drug.
Not just any drug. But the most harmless drug of all time, which is illegal for some reason.
I'm not dependent though, I can live without it, I just don't think it'd be very healthy for anyone around me.
I don't want to be another liberal who ******* at society for not accepting what I'm going through and pandering to me,
but it would be nice if you did.

I mean could you imagine it? a world full of people like us.
The "bad kids", rebels without a cause, just chaotic for no reason.
The potheads, loners with the mind of stoners, shaggy and ****** almost every season
The weirdos, multiversal misanthropists with our hearts so mischeavious
The killers, scared kids who just wanna be left alone, but the world keeps ******* with us.

Weird;
first time I'm talking to you and not sounding like a love sick puppy.

I mean everyday I get closer to the voice in my head, the good one, the one who wants me to **** myself
and I can feel myself getting closer to that state of **** it, where I actually do it and take a classroom with me
guess that's why I've been typing this whole thing with my middle fingers.
but I'm not that evil...
...yet.

I found you,
at least I think I have.
I mean, I'm staring at this blank page writing another poem,
so that's probably not a good sign.
but you look like her, perfect.
and I'm not lying to butter you up or some ****, but they say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
and you're the garden of my eye, more than just the apple of Eden.

It's amazing that you've saved me twice and probably didn't even know.
I really only feel safe around you but I could never tell you that.
I guess you already know I like you, but I don't know if you can feel the love,
or even the genuine care I have for you. Saddest thing is I don't know how you feel about me.
If I'm a ******
A freak
A psychopath
A demon
A pessimist
A school shooter
A bully
A manipulator
A needy little ****
or perfect.
My ******* told you I didn't want to know, which was obviously a lie.
It's not that I don't want to know I just don't know if I can take it or not.

I just refuse to let my condition affect anyone more than it already has.
I mean for ****'s sake I genuinely make Ashley and Sam cry when I try to **** myself
and you expect me to just let you in, knowing you might be as broken as I am?
You mightn't show it but I know it; and that's the kinda **** I think is crazy.
That you don't have to say a word and somehow I just know.
At least I guess I do, we both know I'm ****** in the head.

But if you're curious, I'd never let you hear these poems.
I hate showing my emotions and these poems are my deepest, most damaged thoughts.
They say talking helps but all I've done is brought pain to the people I care about so sorry if I'm reluctant to hurt you.
To let you hear these would be to let you into my soul and I think that's way too deep and maddening for a first date.
At the same time I feel like you need to hear these, I guess to help you get perspective,
aside from the fact I'm scared of losing you to someone else.
But **** my feelings I've always been afraid and I can't bully you into making you into think that you have to feel the same way.
Even though you do have to feel the same, I feel like one more crack and I'll be all the way broken and trust me,
when that happens it's game over.
See? there I go again subconsciously trying to manipulate people. This is why you can never read these.
The parts of me that NO-ONE else knows about are just here on full display.
It feels like if people knew who I really was they'd treat me like a monster,
but I guess they're way ahead of me.
I can't help the way I feel but I can help who knows and for now I guess you'll have to guess at my motivations.
Cuz guess what? I don't trust myself not to push you away with my impatience.

And that's why you can never read these. There is just WAY too much of, well, me.
Kinda weird how I think the one person who's my anchor could never know what's above the surface.
And why is my depth overhead instead of undersea? well cuz I've said it before, I'm ****** in the head.
And in this world that I think you think is real, where surrealism has blended what we think and what we feel
you can look up and not see the stars, but that you've been keeping me grounded.
Which is why I guess you should read these, so you can know how crazy I am as a forewarning
or just to let you know I see what you see too if this is really what you see.

I guess I always make conflict in my head because of that demon half of mine.
Trust me I could know for a fact that you love me and still look for my problems
because at the core of the problem I have a problem with myself, all 3 of me.
The demon, the hippie and the drifter.
The demon hates everyone and everything including itself
The hippie loves but only accounts for about a quarter of my mental health
and the drifter is my actual brain, just going with whatever.
And I guess since the demon is twice as strong as the hippie that's why I hate myself. I rationalize it like this because it's the only way any of this makes sense to me.
guess that's what everyone else is talking about. Saying I need to love myself,
but just look at this poem for evidence. I really do hate myself;
to the point where I'd find it inconceivable for someone else to love me.
But Kaymark does, at least that's what he says,
I know hundreds of times he's had second thoughts about being my friend
SEE THERE I ******* GO AGAIN. I CAN'T EVEN FIGHT IT!

I guess this is just what I see through my eyes.
Saddest part is I wasn't even sad writing this.
These are really the everyday thoughts that go through my head
and if you made it this far I think you can handle how I feel about you.
so
I love you.

I need you.
Now more than ever, as cliché as it is to say.
Before I might've been heartbroken or felt torn down, but this is true pain. I can't even ******* talk
Because I'm not fighting against some bully, *****, my hypocritical parents.
I am figuratively literally fighting myself.

I can't explain it but there's a part of me that loves the sorrow.
He loves being hurt, angry, and alone. And it's like the more I fight the stronger he gets.
the more I try not to be alone the lonelier I get
the more I try to fix how I look the more I stand out
the more I try to tell myself nothing's wrong with me the more convinced of my insanity I become
To the point where I'm starting to believe the ******* he's selling.

I mean for ****'s sake I'm writing to you, nothing but an image in my head.
I don't know if I'm being hopeless when I say that,
I know in my heart you don't exist and you're never coming.
BECAUSE YOU NEVER ******* DO.
you're not the first.
This isn't even the forty-second time I'm making up some imaginary person, to be my coping mechanism.
I AM ALONE. Always have been.
Everything I believe in tells me there's only one me so how could I be so ******* stupid as to believe that you exist?
Almost a clone of me, but of the opposite gender;
now that I'm saying it I realize how insane it is to think.

And it really does make me insane doesn't it.
Because I actually am doing the same thing over and over expecting something new to happen.
I keep believing someone out there knows and can help with my specific situation and and and
after the situation resolves itself you just leave my mind forever.
Last night, I was so convinced that I needed you that I actually felt another human's pain.
When I cried, I felt like someone else, at that moment, felt what I felt.
But hey I believe in talking snakes, pregnant virgins, and magical Jews
so how is someone else feeling this pain so far fetched?
simple,
because I'm alone

I mean, I've been writing these poems to you and i have no idea who you are;
what's your name, what you look like, where you're from.
It's the strangest thing, I write like I know you but we've never met.
I guess you could say we're on the same wavelength or some ****;
as if our depression sends vibrations through the universe that other people like us can pick up on
but why? And I know you're not writing back, or are you?

Could we be so ****** in the head that we're writing to each other
with absolute certainty to talk like we understand each other's problems?
Or what if everyone else just doesn't see what we see?
And if these poems apply to you then I know you see it too.

We don't see the forest for the trees because we don't see the forest or the trees.
We see life. Our frame of mind is bigger than the bigger picture
and you mean to tell me you see us as picture perfect;
when our picture doesn't fit the frame of mind that would make our picture worth it?
Never
We'd be outcasts, but isn't that what we're accustomed to?
Because we don't look at the stars and see the void of space or the lights so bright
We see a future so inexplicably euphoric that it can't be contained by the brightest day or blackest nights

It's like I ******* saw you, maybe in a dream maybe in a nightmare I don't know which
or maybe it was in real life cuz we both know reality is a *****.
and my subconscious just clung to you like a spatiotemporal tick
and you took me on this odyssey that's why whenever I fall I always trip

See?
There I go talking about you like I know you...again.
But I do know you. Not yet, but you know what I mean
And that means you know me too, so let me clear up a few things

I'm not your prince charming, and I can never save you.
I'm not stable enough to help you and I'm sorry that's just the plain truth.
I am the word unstable personified, I snap for no reason.
But you already knew that so what's the point in me continuing to type?
Because what I am is here. waiting. just like you; and i know you're waiting too.
Which is why I write these because when we exchange these poems you'll be assured of the undeniable truth;
simply that, I love you.

I don't even know you and you've already helped me through three nights so far.
So forgive me if I rush into love but the thought of you is the only thing keeping me sane.
I hope I do the same for you, or maybe I'm setting myself up for disappointment.
but to each other, I know we're worth it because we've been waiting this long.

I know you're not in heaven
No.
The angels don't understand.
All they want is for you to conform to what they were raised to believe
come to church, go to God, and eat your vegetables.
Platitudes won't save me and neither will your optimism.

No, you're a demon like I am.
we don't like chaos but it finds us,
and we don't care because it excites us.
The peace we do find is robbed from us, by laws, bonds and expectations
when the laws are overturned, bonds broken and expectations shattered.
There'll just be us;
loners with the minds of stoners finally accepted by the blissful chaos that awaits us

Just you and I
I don't know who or where you are, or what you're going through.
But I know you're there, because this pain isn't isolated.
I know there are other people who hurt like me, and you're one of them.
But we'll always be alone, even united we're alienated
They call us "patients" but they mean demons, they treat us like a virus.
And it's so heartbreaking because you're my Salem when I open my eyelids.
I mean, you would be, if you were here.

Until then all we have is hope for the future and for each other.
Maybe you're already here and simply undercover,
but until your true side and true nature I discover;
I'll be here, dead on the inside but still fighting to be a lover

Heaven or hell, I'm faced with an ultimatum.
Pick a side and stick with it until your final day comes;
but for whatever reason an eternal fire doesn't scare me
and it doesn't help that i don't have a grasp of eternity.

But Heaven or Hell i'm kinda split down the middle,
because the world and it's pleasures are too much fun to belittle.
But what we don't or can't see is always in the back of my mind;
like what if i leave this earth, quote unquote, before my time.
am i gonna walk up to heaven's gate pleading for my soul
or just hope that i die when I'm ready, when I'm more than old?

If I choose Heaven then I give up my pleasures
for a supposed afterlife that's beyond any measure.
Give up this, give up that, quit this and read your bible
because your depression can be solved by stories about these 12 disciples

If I choose Hell then I enjoy these pleasures
in exchange eternal pain and suffering supposedly beyond measure.
But I can do this, do that, drink this and smoke this joint
but if I die tomorrow then what would've been the point

Heaven or hell i just wanna be myself,
just wanna live my life be different from the rest.
But is my individuality gonna cost me an afterlife?
Cuz if so, i guess you might as well just pass the knife;
because how else am i supposed to deal with depression?
I guess i took writing as my only form of expression;
so if you take away anything i say, i wanna leave you with this message.

"Heaven or Hell, you and I don't get a resurrection
once we're gone that's it, done, pay for your transgressions.
but don't be afraid, i'm here we'll accept it,
that no matter Heaven or Hell we'll always be God's perfect imperfections"