.. My poetry is ******
My head is spinning
And I'm all alone

When I turned sixteen, I brought a girl home drunk and stumbling
A day later, I was interviewed by the government criminal investigation
Two months later, she was disowned by her parents
Last I heard, she's at a rehab in Florida

It's been a long time since I've seen her.

When I was fourteen, I hid cigarettes in my backpack, and lighters in my wallet
Used to sit in the middle of a basketball court and watch my stress float away in a noxious grey cloud
I stashed my twelve dollar pack of coors in a bush behind the half-wall

It's been a long time since I've seen those.

I was thirteen when I found a papercutter in the drawer of the art room.
Took it home with me, fell asleep to the sound of it scathing in and out of its sheath
I once got so frustrated I wanted to slice my throat with it
I threw it out the window

It's been a long time since I've seen it.

When I was fifteen, I went out with friends and got wasted on chocolate liquor
Two weeks later, *****
the day after, tequila
and the week before, strawberry daiquiri
I don't remember much.

It's been a long time since I've done that.

When I was thirteen, I wrote poetry to sort out my emotions

It's been a long time since I've done that...

About forty Million (18%) of Americans over 18 are affected by anxiety and anxiety related disorders.

You're not alone no matter how alone you feel
And maybe nothing feels real
But let me tell you it is
We are not fading nothing
We are not "but a dream within a dream"
We are real

Maybe everything is too real
Maybe feeling is something you'd rather not do
You just need to wait
And even if it takes years
You'll get better

Every eye may have the illusion of staying on you
Maybe every eye is on you
But it is not forever
It is a moment that will pass

You don't have to feel this way (alone)

Your voice gives me a stutter
I have to m-m-mutter
Every insecurity
Every truth
Every feeling
Every lie

Your voice takes my breath
I have to write  
About the butterflies
The shaking
The falling
The m-m-melting

Your voice gives me shivers
Running down my spine
As your hand sends water-fall sensations down my back
I clutch my own skin to try to stay in myself
and
      I am
               m
                   e
                      l
                          t
                             i
                                n
                                    g

I forgive you,
For all you've done
Come back, baby...

**** it up **** it up **** it up **** it up.
Trust your gut kid and **** it up.
So you see its wrong and you sit in silence?
Young boy your silence is violence.
So you post on your ******* wall.
About how you care about us all
About how you're tired of all this ****.
Yet you still sit there.
Doing nothing.
Face lit up by your prisoner screen.
Feelings high from the thumbs it brings.

You are as guilty as the fat cats that **** for pleasure.
You are as guilty as the crooks that created leisure.

In  your silence and false sense of self worth,
You let them continue to burn and destroy.

**** it up.
Get off the computer.
Go outside,
Bother your neighbors,
Graffiti the walls,
Film the police,
Grow some **** *****.
Break some **** windows,
**** with the banks
Let them know that you will not take,
This **** lying down.


**** it up **** it up **** it up **** it up.
Trust your gut.

I thought i was in a good mood.

Turns out i'm just manic.

At least it's something.

Something to hold onto.

It always turns dark though.

Like a cold star.

Or another contradictory thing I can't be bothered with coming up with.