i always think about you
how much you hurt me
and make me feel lost
if im your friend
dont flirt with me
or lead me on
or try to have *** with me
and just heal me
because i'm broken
and i need you

id be very sad
usually
if i were your friend
because i cant touch you
or kiss you
or hold you like i want to
or tell you ***** things
the "i love you"'s would be different
more mellow
more sad
and definitely inside
of an unfriendly way
if you were dating someone
i'd be worried for her
or him
because of your history with me
i'd be jealous
but have to put on a big show
that you didnt drill
a massive hole in my heart
and pretend that that hole
isnt still bleeding
where my heart once was

if we were friends
it'd just be constantly pretending
until i can't take it no more
just shoving down all my love for you

i'd grow distant
and a bit cold
and just cry and cry and cry
crashing down
after those cheerful smiles
and delighted gestures

if we went out
together
it would feel like a date
and i'd blush

i'd get
little bursts of joy
even while
im choking in misery
from you
holding me back
from me
trying to protect my boundaries
i can't trust you
either way
but at least
i'll have someone to talk to

all our conversations
would feel phony
and fake.
i'd be dead
with no life to me
having to act like
i don't love you
like you didn't abuse me
or hurt me
or break my heart one thousand times
a gazilliontrillionkillion times
like you didnt abandon me
time and time again
and leave me lonely
and broken
and gaslight me

if you cut
for every tear i cried
you'd be dead
instantly
i've cried at least a pool
at this point.

i've moaned
day and night
overconsumed by pain
by the void you left
it opens up
when i try to go to sleep
and shuts down
when im working during the day

i guess i am your "friend"
this must be how you treat them
i shouldnt be friends
with someone
who treats me like this
but im so addicted to you
and cant stand being alone
because the truth is
i'd be in pain either way
just waiting
for your love to heal me
but it never will
all your love is so fake
just like our friendship

if we were friends
could you attend to my needs
to make it work?
could you sooth the suffering
that you have caused me?

or do you want me to fake everything
and act like everythings fine?
like this **** is normal
i cant do that anymore

its going to be awkward for you
being friends
with a victim of your abuse
watching me
be sad all the time
taking me through
my healing journey
sitting right next to you
not being able to do what i want

its almost as if
we'd both be denying
that we love each other.
that we want something more

but i'm just
your friend
turned *** toy,
right?

there's no inbetween with you
it disgusts me

are they all like this?
seems that way

but after most men use and abuse me
they don't keep coming back
and trying to save our ******* relationship

you
are an outlier
you're weird

i left you
and can't seem to leave you alone
i said
a bunch of ******* lies
to not hurt your feelings
i change on a whim
this borderline ****

im the one
who is now
reopening closed doors
im the one saying
"lets be friends"

most of the time
it was me
who couldnt leave you alone
now giving you the opportunity
to do the same thing
all over again

i just need you..

but it seems like
i dont realize that
if you're doing the same thing over and over again,
what am i doing?

the exact same thing
i guess
we both need each other
but want different things
i keep trying to make you love me
you keep trying to use me and keep me at a distance
and we both keep going back

it was me this time
so now all you have to do
is just ignore me

and dont email me
and dont text or call my number

cause god knows
this **** is going to happen
all over again

so just let me talk to myself
and suffer in peace

Hook him up to the machine.
Shock his brain into
mediocrity.
Death stalks him;
he is aware.
There is too much
flash in his eyes.
His brain needs a reboot;
he needs to forget,
like a goldfish, like
a monkey in the zoo.
Hook him up to the machine.
He is too sentimental.
Salmon swim in his blood;
he has a paisley heart,
and a tie-dye soul.
He can smell colors.
Hook him up to the machine.
He has Van Gogh eyes, and
a Bukowski gut; he walks
like he's lost in a maze;
hunchback sadness,
butcher knife nerves,
Hook him up to the machine.
He believes in love,
and has too much trust.
His vivid green memory
is a curse, we need to
crash it, **** the eternal spring.
Hook him up to
the machine.

Hi,I'm sincerelyW.W! I come on here every now and then and post. I have not posted that much and not many people see my work. I'm not very good but I enjoy getting to post for the few people that read my work. I've mostly posted ‘poems’ there… pretty bad… but that's besides the point. I've kind of stopped writing in this way, this format, whatever you want to call it. Instead I kind of just write down my thoughts and whatever I feel. I want the people who read my work to be able to relate to it. Think ‘hey i totally get where they're coming from!’ So in order to do that, i'm going to start taking the streams of conscience i write and heavily water them down. Some may seem like poems so are just thoughts or stories.

You can come here anytime! You can read my work, message me, if you ever need to vent you can even do that here! I want everyone to feel welcome and appreciated. Because, well, you are.

If you are reading this you have no idea how grateful I am that you have found me/come here. I hope you stick around! Thank you for all the kind comments you have given and any constructive criticism! I appreciate you all so much and thank you!

<3

Does he hate me?  
Are they mad at me?  
What have I done?  
What have I done to make you mad?  
What can I do to fix it?  
Can I fix it?  
Will you let me?  
Can I help?  
You want to be left alone?  
You don't want to be around me?  
They do hate me.  
What do I do?  
How can I fix this?  
Please don't leave.  
Please don't.  
Don't go.  
Let me make it up to you.  
Somehow.  
Please?  
Talk to me.  
Please?  
Don't leave me like this.  
Please don't.  
I know I'm annoying.  
I know.  
I can't help it.  
Oh.  
You don't want me around.  
Do you not care?  
Do you not see how this hurts me?  
Do you not see my pain?

There are bones in the wood;
cracking, groaning, shattering.
The skeleton of what could
Have
            Been

There are bones in the wood;
whistling, wailing, whispering.
The skeleton is not pure—not good
It
            Still
                        Has
           ­                         Flesh