…
… …
see,
im struggling to even write poetry these days.
everything
is like taking a deep breath only to find out that you’ve actually been
trapped inside a void and there’s nothing in your lungs
and nothing to exhale.
id like to think that i still have my good days
and really, i do,
its just that they get kind of fuzzy when im stuck in afternoon sunlight
wondering what happened to all the people that are usually around me.
i feel like a ghost in my own home
and driving ten over the speed limit doesnt even make the
bitter black box in my chest beat,
so maybe ill push fifteen--
and suddenly,
im going fifty-five in a thirty-five zone because maybe itll make me feel alive
knowing how fast im going away from the buildings that makes me feel
like a ghost,
like im drifting.
maybe the less i eat the better ill feel,
but either way theres some kind of guilt weighing me down,
cement blocks tossed into a lake.
i cut my hair to lighten up,
and its been at least three weeks
since i wrote a bad space metaphor about a boy
with a galaxy smile and, ****.
there goes that, restart the count.
fifty-five miles per hour away from memories that
my mind twists into negativity at eleven-- both evening and morning, really.
fifty-five miles per hour away from the people that might just
make me feel alive again,
but fifty-five miles per hour away from the places that thin me out until im nothing more than
a cartoon ghost outline,
running from pac man.

Cigarettes are expensive
but I need a reason
to stand outside of parties
and avoid
interaction.

you're like the moon:
stay 238,900 miles away from me.
you're like the sun:
if you get any closer, you'll set me on fire
you're like pluto,
who i wish orbited the sun more frequently than you.
(at least it has a heart, even if it's an icefield.)
you're like jupiter,
surrounded by moons vying for your eyes,
smaller than me and not 365,000,000 miles away.
you're like the earth:
i don't want to be around you any longer than i have to.
you're like the earth:
someday i'll get away from you.
you're like the earth:
bad habits might be destroying you,
but there are beautiful details that keep me looking at you.
you're like gravity:
i don't really understand you,
but i'm stuck with you.
you're like a black hole,
and i'm a stupid planet stuck in the galaxy that surrounds you.
you're like a bad space metaphor,
in that we always find ourselves back here.

there's a difference between listening and waiting to talk and it's important to be with someone who wants to listen to you as much as you want to listen to them, even if it means that someone is you, even if it means you only have yourself.
listen, you can spend your whole life talking and still not be heard.
how terrifying is that?
you can spend your whole life screaming at the top of your lungs and still not be heard.
HOW TERRIFYING IS THAT?
too often people stop listening before you stop talking and the most important things are lost in translation.
i love yous are cut off by the hurry to get nowhere fast,
by hanging up the phone two seconds too soon,
by shutting the door too quickly behind us.
we need to stop shutting the door too quickly behind us.
one day, there won't be anyone left on the other line to pick up our 2 AM calls.
one day, the phone will ring and ring and ring and nobody will ever call back.
one day, the door will be permanently bolted closed and you'll be left knocking on an empty house until your knuckles bleed. there will still be no answer.
our time is so limited.
so really, what's so wrong with saying all the right things at the wrong times instead of never saying them at all?
what's so wrong with moving too fast, with being desperate, with dropping i love you and i'm so sorry and i miss you as often as we drop see you later?
what's so wrong with knowing how permanent goodbyes can really be?
what's so wrong with knowing that when you're six feet under, no one will be able to pry your cold, hard lips open to spill all the words you took to your grave?

i think the sky has lots to say to us but we never care enough to listen.
i think that at least once in our lifetime, we need to step out of our bodies and into somebody else's.
the world holds a cacophony of deafening sounds
but don't you dare for even a second think that is a bad thing.
the sky keeps saying
LISTEN TO SYMPHONIES OF CATASTROPHES AND CREATIONS. LET THAT BE THE MUSIC THAT GUIDES YOU.

we have forgotten what's important in life and i think the sky keeps trying to remind us that money is worthless when you're dead,
that there is more good than bad inside of everything and everyone,
that fighting will never stick to our hearts more than the image of watching someone's eyes flutter open in the morning,
that the only times you should worry about the weight of the world is when the people you love don't pick up the phone anymore.

LATELY I'VE FOUND THAT TYPING IN ALL CAPS MAKES ME FEEL AS THOUGH I'M RELEASING SOME OF THE HORRIBLY REPRESSED EMOTIONS OF MY CHILDHOOD
LATELY I FEEL LIKE NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY I WILL NOT SUCCEED
LATELY
LATELY I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT HOW THE FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN YET I'M CERTAIN THAT IT DOESN'T REALLY HOLD MUCH FOR ME
LATELY
I've been withering.
It's getting
harder and harder to just keep smiling,
it's getting harder and harder to force myself to start trying,
it's getting
difficult
to get out of bed every morning.
Lately, things haven't been looking so great, it seems. The clouds in my head are creating
thunder around my vision
and lightning in my veins, begging
to strike.
Lately, I can't find motivation for anything.
Lately, I've spent more time quiet and alone than anything and that scares me.
Lately, I've been looking into dark things only to find certain things that should be terrifying are only exhilarating.
Lately I've been dreaming of nothing
because I've never been a dreamer
and I've never had any drive
and I've never had desire
and lately
I've been thinking about how I'm not actually passionate about anything.
Nothing is exciting.
Everything has been hazy lately.
I've been sleeping ten plus hours,
and lately that hasn't been enough for me.
Lately I've been...
struggling
to finish anything.
Lately
everything is exhausting.

YOU NEVER INITIATE CONVERSATION UNLESS YOU NEED ME FOR SOMETHING AND OUR FRIENDSHIP IS BUILT ON YOUR MENTAL HEALTH ALONE. ONCE YOU RECOVER I WILL BE NOTHING TO YOU UNTIL YOU RELAPSE
BECAUSE ALL I AM TO YOU IS SOMEONE WHO CAN TELL YOU HOW TO BREATHE. MAYBE
IT'S GOOD THAT YOU LIKE TO TELL ME ABOUT HOW I'VE BEEN KEEPING YOU ALIVE
BUT I'VE JUST BEEN PUTTING
YOUR OXYGEN MASK ON YOU BEFORE PUTTING ON  MY OWN YET YOU NEVER ASKED ME IF I COULD HOLD MY BREATH THAT LONG.
YOU NEVER ASKED IF I CAN BREATHE LIKE I TELL YOU TO. YOU NEVER ASK HOW I'M DOING UNLESS IT'S LEADING UP TO ME SAVING YOU.
I'M SO SICK OF IT BUT I CAN'T JUST DROP YOU OR ELSE YOU MIGHT DIE AND I'M SO ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED OF BEING
CITED AS THE CAUSE OF ANOTHER DOWNWARD SPIRAL THAT I'LL JUST KEEP SUFFOCATING MYSELF FOR YOU.
IT'S FINE.

please
don't touch me, okay?
please
stand back at least 3 feet
in a perfect circle,
missile range.
please
keep your distance, okay?
please
don't attach yourself to
my brittle bones
and aching soul.
please
don't leave me, okay?
just
don't touch me
stand back at least 3 feet
keep your distance
(missile range)
and attempt to avoid attaching
to my brittle bones
and weary soul.

she
makes me
feel like a
summer storm when I
most believe im a hurricane
she is my special
little fix of
perfectly blonde
nicotine.