years of lessons that don't stick
scabs that ******* itch
why bother scratching
why open that **** back up again
what do I even have to give?
you're busy with expectations
I'm busy dodging them
so ******* afraid to be honest
and waste my time on that nonsense
patterns come and go
most times they start real slow
and I'm lost before I know it
stuck going in circles
can't ******* stop spinning
in-between the motions and I feel sick
not even getting ****
not even sure I want it
wondering why it's even worth it
can't get pleasure for ****
maybe I'm a little bitter about it
my hand does more than your mouth can
looking for too much in a man
all you do is talk
all I do is walk away
not thrilling me enough to stay
so what the **** am I upset about anyway

so ******* stressed that I could puke
I'm doing my best and so are you
I wonder if it will slow down soon
I need direction like I need a clue
in finding a little peace of mind
I'm skipping
I'm tripping
I'm falling behind
in chasing what I came here for
in forgetting mistakes
and remembering to stop keeping score
I'm gonna try a new way of thinking
I'm gonna try to avoid this ship sinking
or just go down singing
with every breath
I've gotta grow up and take the next step
in being something bigger than me
being bigger than my dreams
but maybe I just want someone to listen
not tell me how I glisten and can handle it
maybe just agree with me
and tell me it ******* *****
cause I'm just saying, this is sucky
I don't mean to be ******
I don't feel very good lately
I'm trying to take it easy
I'm on the west side where it's breezy
but I feel lazy
while feeling like I never stop moving
this poem isn't moving either
it's babbling
.....whatever, forever

ghosts inside of my head
i want them dead
there is no need for this balancing act
my tempest
my stormy sea of a heart
you're the captain of my vessels
you flow through me
but you make me bleed
it hurts to think about you
the frost on your windows
traveled to a new one
warped glass and chipping
I keep getting caught and start bleeding
it hurts to want you
I'm tired of wanting you
I'm tired of wishing you'd want me too
I'm tired of you
I could fall asleep easier
without you tip-toeing across my brainwaves
barely walking
but floating
my chest hurts, I feel so blue
you say I'm powerful
but I never am when it comes to you

I'm not interesting enough
to entertain you forever

I'll never forget...
when I was eating less and less...
when I was doing more drugs than I ever have...
I was told in shock every time someone saw me
how great I looked.
now I only see the shock in the eyes.
it's not heard from the mouth anymore.
I feel it when your eyes dip lower
and you don't tell me how great I look.
but you ask me how I'm doing.
I'm okay.
be careful what you say.

I want to re-do what I wrote
on the fog on your window
when we smoked too many cigs
and I was getting too many zits
in places I wasn't used to getting zits
I felt unsexy
but you made me feel worthy
and I'm not asking for much
wish we coulda stayed good that month
among all the hustle and crunch
we lost sight of ourselves somewhere along the bank
in the fog that collected on your windows before we sank
and we went deep
I think we're still asleep
I'm not hearing the voices
only feeling the urges
and I'm not strong enough to run away yet
but I was back then

I feel anxious right now
and unromantic
is that a word?
I could google it but I don't care that much
apathetic and it's my curse and crutch
time has me tripping
keeps going faster while I'm spinning
I normally try to be more clever
but I'm feeling a bit more anxious than ever
**** isn't helping like it usually does
I'm aching from the inside out
I want to feel better
I want to feel cleaner
I want to be better
I want to be leaner
of course
who doesn't
I'm stress eating and I wish I wasn't
I wanna feel ******* ****
even if I'm a little more squishy
call me baby and make me crazy
my hips can still swing
I can still make you sing ******* soprano
if that's what I'm feeling
and when I'm honest like this in poems
it makes me nervous as if I need to share it
because I can't keep my creations secret
maybe it's because attention is a drug and I need it
but maybe I just like creating something only to rid it
from the pits of me
open the windows of my ribcage and set it free
maybe stick out a ******* if it's hurting me
but most things I create are meant for healing me
from what's causing agony
anyway
I'm not sure where to wrap up thoughts like these
I'm watching Sunset Blvd. on the tv
black and white soothes me
like a wicked dream