I'm torn appart,
torn from the inside
torn between two forces
in me.
I am most definitely a misanthrope:
asexual, friendless, dysphoric, and even
ugly.
I struggle with life,
but I especially struggle with life around others.
You can call me shy or an introvert,
but I think there's something more to it.
Perhabs something in that desire
to erase the whole human race
and substitute it with a powerful computer
maybe capable of thought, definitely of science,
with luck art;
most certainly not capable of love,
and harm.
An unmoved observer of the world
would produce our random beauty with its ones and zeros,
and none of the pain.
Perhabs just my inability to enjoy being with others;
they are my species yet sometimes
I wish they were not.

I've always been shy.
I've always been an introvert.
Maybe I've always felt alone,
but not this alone.
I've never been this alone.
I've had friends,
real life human friends too,
but they are gone,
I no longer feel them,
they got tired of knocking at my walls for me to open up,
relax,
talk.
I used to be able to talk to them,
occasionally,
but I no longer can.
It's not their fault;
I'm just being misanthropic,
that's my thing now,
they better just move on.

But I do feel alone.
I imagine myself being loved
and it looks like a chimera:
it has fear's wings
and frustration's claws;
it has overcooked thoughts' head
and, worst of all, my body.
I imagine my life alone
and it looks so real I could touch it.
It is here.
This twenty years of preparation
where a lie,
design to sell me life
as a worth living experience with friends and family.
My friends are gone,
they are gone because I made them leave,
I am gone.
My family is here but they are not with me,
they would be better without me.

Is this the conclusion,
that life is not worth living
and everybody is, or would be, better without me?
Maybe it is.
Maybe I should.
Maybe I will.
Maybe  I'll see you around
at the bottom
of the sea.

i want to know somebody

know every detail of their life events
i want to blow the candles on their first birthday
lick the stamp on the first letter they sent

i want to share and be shared intimately

from my brown skin into my core
i want to wrap around his member and see his eyes ask mine for more

i want to nearly bleed to death

over how much I’m able to give
over how much I might withstand if it meant my love would live

because i think people are meant to be shared with one another, tied in an infinitesimal amount of ways; tumbling as one.

Not everyone thinks of it as a compliment
When you write about them
I thought it was supposed to be nice
Ya know
Love poems and ****
I thought it was supposed to be a compliment
Ya know
Love poems and ****
He said he's embarrassed
He stifles his words through nervous laughter
Puts his head down
Scratches the same nervous patch on his neck
That he always scratches
Whenever he gets nervous
I thought I was flattering him
Ya know
I thought I was being kind
Ya know
But my muse is just too shy
My muse is just too painfully shy
My muse just doesn't know what to do with the recognition
From someone who unconditionally loves him

I felt it crumbling
I felt it falling with the rain
The invisible
I felt it falling
Bits and pieces
Shreds and ribbons
The clothing of my wings
As God unpacked the wraps with haste
Like a restless child
Tearing down the gift
Together with the wrapping

I felt it falling
Scorching on the skin
Of frail reveries
Soaking wet I felt the taste
Of gasoline
And drowned the rain
Into my eyelids

Words can be strong
When they are used against you it can be like
A
    Punch
              In
                   The
                         Stomach
When you have to use them to describe what you feel its like
A
    Knife
             To
                  The
                        Throat
And when they haunt you at night, swirling in your mind its like
A
    Loaded
              Gun
                     To
                          Your
                                 Head
Words are dangerous

My heart stings when I don’t write
yet it throbs when I do
What’s the right answer?
Do I start again?
Or do I continue to let my thought scream inside of me to be let out?
My mind tell me to continue to let the screams continue
But my heart tells me to let it out
Let them be heard
Let them shout from the rooftops to be free
To be heard
To be understood

Remain self-motivated and self-determined
Do your best each day
Believe that you can
Have that strong will in every way
It all starts with one step
Put your heart into everything that you do
Find your inner strength
Guide your way through