Got a passion that takes over my body
It’s a feeling in my chest that gets absorbed into my bloodstream
then disappears into my cells until they start to scream
I want to create art at the beginning and end of every breath
but when I sit down to regurgitate all my thoughts, I just need rest
the day got under my skin & the patterns got harder to part from
I got new prescriptions to find parts of myself inside of
but ignoring my art feels like a cardinal sin
I want to give myself a win
without giving excuses

transitioning
into new chapters
has never been easy
and I'm so good at avoiding
what I need to face
when someone fades away
someone else takes their place
filling voids
again and again
the limbo between lovers and friends
I want to be braver
I miss being younger
because those who time took away
were younger too
time loops only exist
in nostalgia and dreams
I want to be swallowed by the sky
while I scream

sharp teeth stained
dripping with disdain
blood from my brain
hubris soaked in shame
I am my own glass ceiling
being weighed down
with stones of good intentions

Staring
at the empty word document on my screen
Waiting
for a jolt of poetic words that can express
everything inside of me I've been avoiding
But I'm coming up with nothing
empty hands
empty mind
empty heart
I feel censored in my art  
and I don't know how to remove the static

Perceiving and being
are two very different things
And I never know from which view you're seeing
I'm still trying to figure it all out
I don't feel like there's any direction I'm facing
it's making me feel dizzy
and a little ******* crazy
Losing grip; dreaming
where I only see silhouettes
that resemble memories  
Some that I recognize
and others that I don't
Like cigarette stained walls
that I can't scrub clean, it lingers
There's evidence of you existing everywhere
in my habits, in the weather
Today it feels like a boulder on my chest
and other days, like a feather

paisley prints and ripped tights
early mornings and late nights
small pockets of the world
that feel like they partly belong to me
from how often I'm frequenting,
arriving, and even after departing
I've got the muscle memory
but there's some streets
I'll never go down again
unless I'm transported against my will
with a sharp scent that rushes nostalgia
and transports me back to the trauma
or just the melancholy
of a time in life I'll never get back
time has fallen off it's tracks
and I'm somewhere in the middle of the crash
between the beginning and the end
sometimes I feel like I'm playing pretend
looking at myself from the outside in

Been working so hard
at keeping my vulnerability from escaping
I can feel my resistance pitching tents in my chest
sighing, "we're not doing this again"
Because it still doesn't feel safe
there's canyons of heartache in my memories
that I wish I could fill with cement
still writing so many poems of lament
and it just doesn't feel fair
I'm a lover girl turned ice cold
once had passion that burned
so hot it could make you blister
The girl who loved bravely--I miss her
And maybe I'm just not as naive
back then all I did was believe
falling in love was always so easy
there was no way you'd hurt me
And maybe I just miss the naivety
required to fall in love so easily
Heartache feels like pollution on my psyche
that never brings climate change
I'm tired of this ice age