you know, it's weird sometimes
to think of ourselves
as all separate but always as one.

we're made up of the same stuff,
the same gunk inside our lungs,
but each story remains truer to self.

i guess, i like to pretend
that i never grew up,
never relied on coffee to get out of bed.

because it's hard to see yourself dying,
from the outside, when you're trying
so hard just to lift yourself up.

but we're all a little down,
a little bruised, a little broken.
we're made up of the same **** stuff.

so as a reminder to myself and anyone else:
find people who make you smile,
make your days worth the while,
and you'll never feel unhappy again.

no words are coming out
for i've suppressed it for too long
and now,
they have lost their way
and they have no way out

it's a little ironic
that there is something wrong with my heart
that I, this hopeless poet, has a defect
in her favorite topic, her favorite metaphor-
and that this, this, the source of her life, should fail her.

waves of pain
crash against my skull
with each collision shaking my insides
and every thundering bolt
pushing me closer and closer
to grabbing the forty-five
in a desperate attempt to stop
my head from shaking and screaming
to be set free
breathe in, breathe out
to a cold barrel against my temple
pull the trigger, count to three
we were "so nearly free."

and you left me so hollow,
like a mere slate of metal;
so much space
like it’s nearly a thousand light year,
the distance between
keeps stretching;
the way you softly rupture the very existence
of my eventual broken bones,
like a block of iron during the storm
left to corrode.

i wrote about you on the tallest billboards
screamed your name from every rooftop
in hope someone would hear me

i sand your name in every song i wrote
singing the words of heartbreak and lust
in the melodies intertwined
the words spilled out of me like
water in a cup
making the soles of my shoes wet with tangled words
of poetry

i uttered your name until my throat was hoarse
scratched with the letters that spell out your name
so beautifully

letters that make something so simple
into something so melancholy

and somehow i'm still feeling raw
the wounds should have already been healed
still feeling the effects of your claw
and the layers of me are being peeled
you stripped me of feelings
sliced open old wounds
but on the outside
it looks just like a bruise
can we trust what we see?
is it all what it seems?
because you appeared friendly
but you can't see venom
you just feel it when it's injected
and you poisoned me
my mind is infected
sometimes silence
cuts deeper than words
and i would love to pretend
that it was truth i had heard
but a lie was all
that you sloppily slurred
it was what you deemed i deserved
apparently you didn't find in me what you wanted
but nevertheless with my feelings you taunted
i was just another game played
until you saw
your new found prey.

desire has no mercy
like a red morning light
tickling your feet
it has me transparent
it has me transformed
into roar, thunder, wave
or quicksand in your hands
till the air in between
is fully charged,
radioactive
and insane