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eli Jun 2016
i have dreams
where your hand
is held by mine.
our fingers, lace and intertwine,
your simple touch, casts me drunk like wine.

i have visions
where i bestow you flowers
forever, forever blooming!
shining in your light, never to die
for a life without you must surely be a lie

i have hopes.
hopes, that you will see the good in me
that the wonder i see in you can never be deceived
hopes, that will never fall
hopes, that if i shall,
i choose you as my downfall.

i have worries.
worries you will find love elsewhere
where i must be perfect or else,
worries we will not work out,
and end up with fractured smiles as the only workout.

i have fears.
fears so frantic i pace to see you soon.
fears you'll fade with the full moon.

have me.
you have me.
for as long as i maintain the will to breath,
a breath without you near shall be a breath too soon.
eli May 2016
if love is a battlefield,
than my mind must be Chernobyl.
a nuclear war zone,
I spent years developing a nuclear war head,
that can find lodging in your head.

it lays resident on the pillow on my bed,
my childhood shed,
while bad memories flow like a water drain up ahead,
and may remain with me until death.

maybe such a stigma on depression exists,
because no one still really knows what it is
hell, my mind can compute equations,
spit out essays,
but mental illness?
to solve mine would be aimless.

it lurks, it attacks, it burns
left like a forest fire to churn.
eats up your insides, you feel your ending coming close,
with no conclusiveness a doctor can diagnose.
only if life came with an easy mode,
maybe i'd be better off dealing with this alone.

this is for all the kids
who made Adam's song their song,
or find reprieve at the bottom of a ****,
and find life a little bit too long.

can you hear the siren?
three, two...
seconds to eruption
no time to snooze.

i wake and
immediately collapse into
in the people i will encounter today
until i come home
no parts of me left to be seen.
until i finally fall in bed,
close my eyes,
count 1, 2, 3,
and do it
all over again.
eli Apr 2016
you want to know
why he's depressed.
he made a shell distant from his sobriety
and lost touch with any sense of piety.

Tis' a pity, tis' a pity, he becomes
a poor fool, passes away prior to full potential
knows only money and *** to be essential,
and knows nothing on how to deal with the consequential.

fell in love too early
only to know it's too late.
no promises to rectify,
no vows to testify,
only his broken brain left to crucify.

a battered body broken down in battle
with the world around him
and the war within him.
love is thy kryptonite,
drugs are thy dynamite,
left to implode
in the world he created.

he lays in his head, he lies in his head,
he has died in his head,
and thus makes this death.

he lives in everyone's life,
knows not one of his own,
only knows the boundaries of his zone.

Tis' not one of comfort, only discomfort
this man is me.
this man is me.

see my red blood leak on the ledger,
my life flow away like a lost feather,
hang me loose on the tether.
to see sunrise again after tonight?

no please,
eli Apr 2016
i keep thinking about this poem in my head
i cannot remember a thing
even though i live in my head

bloodshot eyes are all i see
looking straight in the mirror, lost at sea
keep thinking i will see you again
knowing the answer is "never again"

i still don't know a thing
about this world
keep thinking everything i hear
are lies that are told,
that everyone is out to get me, like a tower of cards
left to stumble and fold.
that people only care for them selves, even though
they always told me
two people can make one's self.

if life is truly survival of the fittest
then my life is a jacket that could never really fit
i outgrew it before i was born
a shame, a shame
i am a shell of who i used to be, i am a lame on the street.
after you died, nothing can ever be the same.

the love we cherished
at fifteen, will stay with me till fifty.
god forbid, it is 2016, here i am thinking
i would never live past 2015.

i am gone, i am dead
whatever you hear from me is posthumous
being written from the troughs in Heaven's den
lost and forgotten, look around, see.
the rock of Sisyphus
weighs heavy on the walking posthumous
they are gone, they are dead, they push on.

i hear them say, rest in peace.
hope they will say the same,
when i find reprieve
at the bottom of the sea.
eli Apr 2016
i cannot die.
not yet, at least.
not when i'm capable of so much more love,
when i have so much to give before i end up above.

you once told me,
that seven was your favorite number.
lucky number seven.
but what could be so lucky about death?
i read that before one dies,
seven minutes of brain activity remains
and in their head, a snapshot of their life replays.

all i can hope is to be
just in one second of that story
to be part of your entrance into heaven and glory
to be the final lullaby lulling you to sleep
to be in the last breath you exhaled deep

i remember
the day of your funeral.
being embraced
in your mother's arms,
and that if there was ever a time
to be
to stay
it was now.
that a look of comfort,
and not saying anything
is all i could do.
and that the way we held each other,
maybe no one could tell who was comforting who.

i remember,
shaking your father's hand
like i still had to give him
for coming up with you, for making one half of you

no one knows
about the times i almost became a father
how close we were
to ******* it all up.
how your father would **** me if i made you a father
how if we went to "Maury,"
i would be the only one in history to jump up in celebration,
as he says,
"you are the father!"

i'm just
i experienced everything with

people tell me recently that i speak like their father
and after having shook the hand of one of the greatest fathers i ever met,
i know that i will be ready to be a father.
that with or without you, i will never forget you.

i'm just
i can't get on one knee and propose to you,
time how long it would take for you to say "I do."
i won't know if it'll take seven seconds or less,
just know i gave you my

i'm just
i'm just really missing you.
the lessons you gave me at seventeen,
will last until i'm seventy.

for last, i hope
i hope
that my last seven minutes of life,
will be spent listening to the sound of your voice,
bleeding slow in me as a gentle knife.
eli Dec 2015
you ask, "why i haven't killed myself?"

the day she died,
i remember my father telling me
there are millions of good girls out there
then i realized, she was the one in that million
and for her, i'll stay alive for another trillion

my hope that one day, this pursuit of happiness
will eventually peruse me to joy and success
but i wear anxiety like a dress
to the point i've made this whole 'killing myself thing' a mess

for all the heartbreaks i've endured
there will be one girl that invents the cure
but i reject love to the point it's lost its allure
and death is the only thing that has become sure

why i haven't killed myself?
i am already dead.
we said we'd grow up and meet in a coffee shop one day
now you're gone and to see you again, my life would be the price to pay
but you have reserved your soul in me, embedded like espresso in a latte
push these pills away, and hear you whisper "there are other ways"

i outright refuse to hear my grandmother's religion talk about suicide in an ignorant manner.
i rather not be the talk of Christmas dinner
and rather endure my aunt's repulsive dessert than become the devil's bread-winner.

why i haven't killed myself?
i am already dead.
i am finally starting to find love again
and i'd rather the ink of this pen die before i enter Heaven's den.

i can't handle seeing my brothers at my funeral
hear them whisper of all my "wasted" potential
then see them leave to use drugs as their coping utensil

i would get to see her again in heaven
but she would bring my heart into a deep descend
as she says "to me, you are forever dead."

everyone would speak about my sacrifice
but i wear pride and it shreds my skin like knives
and god forbid, i disappoint my loved ones before i end my life.

why i haven't killed myself?
can't you see it? i am already dead.
i died the day she left and i'd rather my final words to her
be the last thing i've ever said
than a stupid poem about how i kept wishing i was dead.
for her.
eli Nov 2015
falling in love
is a lot like dying slow
you won't realize it until you're ten feet underground

falling in love
is like going to see the sunset
but realizing the sunset lasts only 30 minutes in a day

falling in love
is like going up to the ice cream truck
after chasing it for blocks
and realizing they don't have your favorite flavor

falling in love
is like showing her off
to all your friends like you're back in school
and today's event is show-and-tell

falling in love
is like taking your first puff,
coughing it out
and revisiting it years later
like it never once left your body

falling in love
is seeing role models turn into humans,
and humans into role models.

falling in love
is like witnessing your first car crash
i guess it wasn't as exciting as it felt on tv.

falling in love
is going to your childhood park,
and realizing people never really go to parks anymore.

falling in love is remembering that kid who moved in grade three
who said they'd stay in touch,
but never heard from again.

falling in love is seeing that kid 10 years later
and dreaming of the next 10 years together

falling in love
is seeing them as a reflection of yourself
sprawled over the bed,
and wondering to yourself "****, what more could i ask?"

falling in love

is seeing them hunched on a hospital bed,
hearing them say
"what life have we led?"

falling in love
is visiting their grave,
hearts broken and sore,

i don't want to fall in love
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