Oh cursed soul,
that you be,
something I dont even believe,
In, but in pain filled ignorance,
I lack the eloquency  to describe,
Even a little bit accurately,
This hateful being,
This lie of a perception, I cannot wake from,
A matrix, a coded line, I find myself,
Stuck in,
The suffering of a thousand lives and worlds,
Reaching out to you, reading this,
Lying, lying, as if the words mean,
Anything, anything, No!
Yet then, I always realize circling back,
To the histories invented by past selves,
hence, influencing who I am now,
the dark corners I look forward to in the future,
The lack of resposibility, The blissful youth,
Mixed with the pain of wisdom,
And the teachings and overview,
Of going off a cliff, only to jump back on,
And run off again,
Yet, then, again I find myself looking,
In my heart at the gun, the gun of release,
Oh that I dare say,
all humans should seek.
Crazy, crazy, John,
You are crazy you say,
Aye, aye, as all we are,
Sanity is insane,
Reason is,
2+2=4, Because.
I am the because. I am the order.
I am the chaos, that puts that electron there,
And your synapses connecting there,
Oh I'm the breath you take,
Before that **** and ***,
You faked,
Little one, little one,
I am much older now in lives
Than years, I consume throwing myself away,
The self, the soul, the non existence,
Oh it is existing and it wont leave me,
And all this because,
I saw her kissing that man,
On the cheek.
Alas, that is the bane of every God and Demon,
Since nephlium, To love a human,
A mortal, the code in the matrix,
The variables for the x,
That turns your reason and logic,
Into guess work and soulbreak,
I drone on,
Where is the end,
That is the point! Dr. Seuess,
Take your money back, I know the places I will go,
Oh I've seen it now for a while, and boy do I fear,
The blank page, the unwritten line,
The truth that I've been trying to hide,
From who?
I've lived long enough.
I would like to die.

I am not writing this
to get attention
or pity
or so people will tell me
I'm beautiful the way I am.

I am writing this
because when I post a poem about
being terrified to look at myself
because I hate what I see,
it should not be added to a collection titled
Humorous.

I am writing this
because when I sit at a lunch table
without a brown paper sack,
boys should not laugh when they ask
what, are you anorexic?

I am writing this
because when I watch Disney Channel
with my eight-year-old cousin,
I should not hear jokes
about skipping meals.

I am writing this
because when you google
anorexia is,
the first suggestion should not be
anorexia is good.

I am writing this
because our society should not
expect people to be paper thin
but judge them
for trying to get there.

I am writing this
because insecurities
are not a joke,
*no one
should be laughing.

Blame it on bad timing or the weather
Blame it on traffic or your kids
Blame it on whatever is handy
Blame it on someone else
Because God forbid you see fault in yourself
To be responsible for your own actions regardless of the outcome
There are worse things in life than an honest mistake or bad choices
But to be blind to the fact that they are choices you yourself made
Or to close your eyes and pretend that unforeseeable mistakes did not happen
And seeing the outcome effect others
Well, that's just a weight not worth bearing
So man up and take the fall since it was you who stumbled
Don't take anyone along for the ride
You will find that you won't be alone on your journey
But that decision is yours alone to make
Living in denial of self, with no trust and no heart will never lead to happiness

I sit listening, patiently recording,
Stories of sorrow, pain, and violence.
People expelling the details of their lives,
Seeking assistance for their cares.

Explaining the past in magnified details,
The Voices torturing their minds,
The Visions disturbing their hearts.
So many unbalanced, unstable people.

Victims to past trauma or mental disease.
Attempting to manage their pain and thoughts,
To find a path through.
To find the answer to improve their lives.

I sit explaining, patiently to each,
We cannot change the course of their lives,
It is up to them.
Only try to give them the tools to cope.
Its a long slow process, never a quick cure.

My reward for each encounter, small though it is,
A smile, a look of relief, a look of hope.
Makes the pain endured, the risks taken,
Worth the effort put forth.

no more words
I quit
no longer saying
the right thing
the stranger who says
excuse me fix
my child
that’s it.
you do it you
solve their
problems.
file it all
lock it
up to be
checked out
by someone else’s
savior
because I’m
done with
being your
solve-the-trick
einstein florence
nightengale mother
theresa
failbot.