I like listening to albums
when the artist was at their saddest
cut me open again
I glisten in it too
I just wish I could stop being so angry all the time
and see the art in it all like I did back then
I already know the direction you're going
I don't think there's room for my growing there
but I want to be anywhere but here
I feel like I'm thousands of miles away from you
even in the same room
I'm the distant lover you've never wanted
and here you are
wanting me
I like your attitude
***** grips
**** talking past *******
retro vibes echoing under bridges
frost bite on my eyelids
**** I'm tired of feeling so ******* cold
you're gonna blister and burn if you kiss me again
combine my passion with a lack of attention
I'm gonna confuse you and let you down
everything that's ever been
has only been broken
fragments seen again in the small moments
where it all reminds me of everything all over again
nostalgia is a drug and my hibernation den
and I've been trying to write all ******* night
I keep trailing off
thinking about smeared eyeliner and chapped lips
your hands gripping my hips
it's a good time until you can't get me there
I want you here
I just like to feel you inside
I'll take myself on the ride
if you're there to drive
just don't ask me where we're going
I see your soul showing
mine's still hiding
and I'm a sucker for your charms
I like how I feel when I'm in your arms
but I wanna feel that way in my own first
hard to do when I'm dying of thirst
for a little heat in my chest again
or at the least some ******* condensation
melt me down a little more
see what all the old heartbreaks were for
what else do I have to lose

I keep guilt on me
like a first aid kit at the bottom of a drawstring.
and instead of healing,
I make my own wounds worse.
I want to bring something else there first...
but my shame always beats me to the punch...
apathetically indifferent,
thinking too much...
the most passionate affairs burn up the quickest.
ours was a fever dream, & you were the sickest...
letting you go took a heavy dose of misery,
I've got scar tissue like thick sheets across my psyche.
and it still isn't easy...
my misery keeps finding miserable company.
the farthest thing away from inspiring...
I'd be more ready to move on
if I could just stop moving positions...
but my legs keep falling asleep,
and I'm not good with significant transitions...
but everything in life moves so ******* fast,
no one cares that you knew me in my past
you don't know me in my present.
thinking too much, apathetically indifferent...
and **** your good intentions, I knew you had none
there's never been two people here, only one.
I'm tired of carrying guilt for two
I've got so many other things to do

Happiness can make you feel guilty
A foreign entity you're not used to feeling
But I know I'm deserving
It's been such a long road to happy
A constant state of tragedy is exhausting
And I don't want to feel sorry for finally breathing clean
I feel I've been forever on the other side of me
And the complete opposite of easy street
I don't need to feel guilty for moving
I like the light over here

picking at my skin
ingrained in me like old medicine...
the old soul within me is breaking

it's without trying
that I'm inspired
by short sparks of adoration rewired

I'm a plague
sweeping through your soul's streets
I'm a curse
you taste when my lips & yours meet

but I want you to love me deeply
it stings every time
when you don't tell me you miss me
wish I could get under your skin enough
even if it's only to make you feel frisky

and then where can I run to?
certainly it can't be you...
I move with the shadows,
not away from them
I dance with the demons,
not stray from them

I want to form an entity
that's part of my identity...
that follows your movements
like a haunting...

think of me
in darkness, in black
bury me
and haunt me back

everything feels so heavy
right now I'm feeling spicy
and not very ******* nice
why aren't more fat chicks in magazines
show me that my stretch marks aren't weird things
so many women have a gut
and so ******* what?
I'm tired if it
being programmed to hate myself since I was a child
the only way to fight it
is to love yourself through it
the only true revolution
is with middle fingers up to it
I'm never gonna have a thigh gap and big ***** simultaneously
if you can't love or **** someone for that you're a **** *****
and you could never handle mine
**** the world
I'm gonna love this girl first
you couldn't make me feel any worse
than I make myself feel every day
I gotta look at things a different way
I've got nothing else to say
my goal is health over beauty
mentally, physically
and crawling out of this valley
beautifully
**** this misery

I keep writing in my journal
"remember why you came here"
now it's all my mind hears
sometimes you can't go
until you're sent
whatever that meant
and I'm tired
wish I didn't get so bored by you
wish I didn't get so indoors with you
I know you'd like it if I was more in tune
with you
and wanna do what you wanna do
I'm a liar in my ways
but honest in how I spend my days
I'm not looking for a fix
I'm not wondering if we're a good mix
because we won't be
right when we think we are
the clouds in my eyes are covering the stars
can't get high enough to see how far
I could run
but where's the fun
in not facing my own fears?
that's what brought me to art in the first place
being afraid with nowhere to claim as my own space
so I found it and defined it
wish I could slow it all down and rewind it
I miss my friends
even the ones who treated me like ****
I miss my lovers
even the ones who made love not worth it
but maybe what I'm really missing
isn't a time, a person, but a feeling
and now I'm constantly searching
for a way out of the darkness I found myself
dancing in it instead of drowning in it
is the only way to keep up my mental health
remember why you came here
remember to keep your head clear

broken blossoms,
songs of sirens...
melting me into darkness
where control is a substance
I'm desperate to ingest it
spiritually conjure it
or some ****
I've got a lump in my throat
but I'm what's being swallowed
by walls closing in
lining the shell of myself

It finally started raining
the same day we called it quits
too many days of distance
We needed a shift that wasn't in my gears
I can't keep screaming words into closed ears
you're the rubber and I'm glue; nothing sticks to you
But maybe part of me was rubber too
because I never could love as much as you
But I could never show it as little as you do
Words only hold substance if action shines with them
and senses only gain strength with wisdom
So I'll do my best to consider this a gift
most lessons are
I don't need a shooting star
I need the rain

I've got a brain like an old manor
always haunting the hallways of my own mind
and thinking there's gonna be something new I'll find;
but I never do.
I only ever find you....
everyone...
and them...
time and time again.
I keep my love in an asylum
safe from violence behind the walls I've built
I steadily keep both eyes on the doors
and my hands on the hilt.
But lately, this sword feels double-edged
protecting myself, but ultimately forming a wedge
between me and something secure
because showing vulnerability has never held much allure.
I've got a ribcage like a cathedral
stained glass expands from every breath within
I've got a heart like a sanctuary
church benches filling up with anyone I ever let in.
But they're all fusing to the surfaces,
because I can't let anything go
I've been taught what it feels like,
but I still don't know.
I don't have room for too many more
I've got to chisel out room or find a new door
to make my heart just like a prairie
ever vast and ever winding
with soil that's meant for growing.

Disturbing my peace
I fought so hard to achieve
Reality doesn't slow down for anything
I'm walking through town with a fog surrounding me
noise proof headphones connected only to my anger and pain
trying to figure out how to move through life the same
It isn't reasonable to think I could
because if I could, I ******* would...
Worlds flip upside down every day
the kind of **** you hear about on tv
is happening down the street
And slowing down for processing isn't happening
keep it up and keep grinding
Reality doesn't slow down for anything

wondering if I'm breaking through to rock bottom yet
but I think I just gotta get used to it
time has changed me and it's moving fast
lot of good women with a lot of bad pasts
gotta look past my own if I wanna last...
and drop that victim ****!
this is how life is...
pushing against the current,
wondering if it's worth it...
I've got an anchor on my ankles,
a voice in an empty vessel...
spiraling seas,
of thoughts, maybe voices...
victim **** is victimless,
until you're victim to their cringe-worthy-ness...
and I get you're under some sort of stress,
the darkness is what treats you best...
but everyone dances in the shadows
you're not rolling in this **** solo

you don't keep things very steady
but I'm feeling you and it's heavy
I've got a recluse vibe
but you dig me
you've got a twisted mind
and I wannna dig deep...
who needs ******* sleep?
cause I wanna bleed these sheets
((with whatever comes next
two bleeding hearts for romance
has gotta mean hot ***))
with only inspiration...
because passion creates feelings
creates paths that are freeing
creates monsters and tingling
creates goosebumps and scream queens
((and I like your ***** jeans,
I'm saying so much more
than what that means,
***** jeans :
adventures that aren't clean))
biting my lip isn't helping
biting my tongue is ******* annoying
((biting you wouldn't be boring))
I'm sometimes a sick kind of *****
take a breath before you sink in me

wish I was focusing more on creative ****
because I'm always making it
then doing what with it?
I've gotta break out with it.
I wanna be known for it,
have something to show for it,
be more than it,
tell people what I think about it,
and to have people around wanting to hear about it
I want to be brave and talk about it
I could have a voice
if I dared to try and scream with it
I see the world in misecellanous dreamy hues and ****
in open highways and moments
fitting the typical 20-something millenial *****
I'm blending in with the other witchy *******
that don't know darkness...
triggered...
we're a part of the viral market...
I don't trust you if you deny it.
we're waiting to meet a mirrored fakeness, and rely on it
losing the drive in me to look for words to reply with
I'm scripted and overworked but trying
morality police are too busy lying
reality is digging into my day dreams
and it's making **** more clear
it's good to clear the smoke and imagine something bigger
but the first step is doing
taking the fear away
and flying
but I took another puff and went to sleep

synthetic ****
you're in with it
hot with it
saved yourself a spot with it
but I'm not riding this
you're like a big kid
without the cuteness
grow up and find a spot in the middle
I wish I could feel safe in my skin
like when I was little
before the trauma
before the drama
and how the **** do people move on
what else does it involve
besides lying to yourself that you're strong
fake it till you make it they say
and I'm faking it every day
I'm exhausted in every way
and I want to have the energy to stick around
to make a difference
to float like a cloud
without a care or a fear
this **** need to look up soon
because I can't take another year
and the cliches work only so much
the typical responses
and trying too hard to stay in touch
cliches can't be a crutch
but what else can be used?
without that thing accepting abuse
because leaning on someone too much
always pushes them slowly away
and not leaning on someone enough
doesn't make them want to stay
and I get why it is that way
but that doesn't make it okay
I've got nothing else to say
tomorrow is a new day

I've got things to say about the leaves. Every poet does. Every artist. Or maybe the leaves just have things to say. They're letting it all out. Letting it go. Crunch. I wanna strip down my darkness into individual leaves of memories that I can let the wind take away. Crunch. Crutch. There's some memories the wind just never takes away no matter the weather. They're seemingly staying forever. Perpetual states of their imprints exist like a leaf pressing that was preserved in a stone. And all I'm thinking is that I need a rake. And perhaps more strength for all the leaves I need to shake off.

Land of the free, land of "me me me"
when it should be "we";
it should be community
with a priority of protecting
your neighbors,
your daughters,
your sons,
mothers, and fathers
and their right to choose,
their right to live,
their right to freedom,
and their right to give
to any cause, to any God,
to have autonomy of their bodies
that don't bear the weight of laws.
Land of the free, only if you can afford it
and if you need help, don't ask for it,
you'll get shamed for it.
Land of the free, unless it's asylum you seek;
you'll be called dangerous, lazy, and weak.
I want to see acts of kindness
I want to see acts of peace
I so tired of this narrative
I'm tired of the collective grief.
This rollercoaster is never ending,
with constant spinning, turning,
and worrying
about the safety of my body
the safety of my peers,
the rich getting richer
and politicians mongering fears.
And then using it to their advantage
using it to get ahead,
no matter who it might hurt,
no matter who it might leave dead.
Land of the free, collectively screaming
but only ever at each other
at our neighbors, our children,
our fathers and mothers.
And for what? To feel glory?
To feel holy?
Are we really so lost
that we can't recognize repeating history?
Because saying "it could be worse"
means you think the loss of freedom for others is fine
you only hear their stories as complaining
and their terrified voices as a whine.
I don't know where we go from here
I don't know where to put the pain
I don't know how to make people understand
the importance of caring...
about a fellow human's well-being
beyond your own carcass
about the light and life in others
being swallowed by darkness.
Because I believe that freedom for others
doesn't affect any freedom for me
It isn't always about equality
it's about equity.
Oppression of other's freedoms is abhorrent;
why be so afraid to swim against the current?
Land of the free if you've got the right skin tone,
land of the free if you've got the right "parts"
yet the folks who know true oppression,
are so often the ones with the biggest hearts
who continue to believe in community,
who believe the oppressed and their stories,
who care for the well being of others
and no need for personal glory.
Give us liberty.

When I think of memories
depicting feelings of my personal freedom
there’s always a cool breeze in my hair
and when the day is over
there’s a musty scent in my hair
from soaking in every step I took
and every dance I twirled under the prairie sky
I’m always chasing that feeling
my lungs opening up into wings
catching my breath so my freedom sings
but reality soaks through all good things
and the dark side of capitalism makes us all prisoners
a country divided keeps raising up the controllers
and we continue on in our division
petty crimes making up mass incarceration
dangerous men walking free and calling it justice
I'm tired of this
I wanna believe in good intentions
I wanna believe in honest testimony
tears covering up lies and misery loving company
we keep running in different directions competing in the same race
telling those born without boots to pull them up by their straps
while they're licking the boots of the man

walking barefoot
in between changes of scenery
ribs that creak like floorboards,
and I wonder if you hear me
I'm sorry if I'm disturbing,
I'm not accustomed to doing the haunting
I want to stay a little longer if you'll let me
before it all starts disappearing

I use melancholy like currency
it's the cost of creating what my mouth can't mutter
and then I'm ready for another hit
back swimming in beautiful, sparkling gutters
and I know I can't claim this feeling,
I just know what it means to me
and I want to feel seen
but I'm still wondering if you even hear me
so give me more melancholy
give me enough of it,
and my creations are practically screaming
if you know how to speak the language of my art
you'd know my heart
and while I haven't figured out a way to translate it
I think some might get it
and perhaps that's enough for me to keep going
I just need another hit

While you were looking for more of my skin
to trace your calloused fingers across,
I was still looking for a way to let you back in
after shutting down and pushing you out;
I spent an eternity wandering the hallways of my mind on your couch.
And I don't want it to be difficult; I know it's going to be sometimes
it's been weeks now, and you're all that's been on my mind.
And I know you feel that way, too.
I'm scared of losing my breath, of my lips turning blue;
Because I want to be able to talk to you,
but I still wonder if you'll be able to hear
all the music in my aura that plays so clear...
I feel the vibrations all the time,
soundwaves on repeat in my mind,
I think they'll harmonize with yours if we let them...
I want you to really see me for who I am,
and I know there's a chance you could,
but I'm scared of being disappointed,
I'm scared of being misunderstood.
So tread lightly as you're running through my mind,
please be careful in any of my darkness you find.
If you discover yourself hearing my aura's music play,
the melody will double as lanterns to light your way.
The walls are always building, the halls are ever turning
you've just gotta want to keep exploring
You've got to want to keep going

triggered at the expense of expression
life cruelly trying to teach you a lesson
about what's worth something or anything to you
in regards to your feelings or someone new's

living in nostalgia filled wanderings
& a guilt that creeps under my skin in agony
what grand expressions
could ever take that **** away?
it's a part of me, it's a tick in me
not capable of going away...

but it can be accepted
or stay rejected
and infected
and directed to attack
only when I want my old self back

and

I could give honest explanations
to the people that deserve them
but so much time has passed
I understand why they wouldn't want one
because I wouldn't want one either...
I'm already convinced that you're the sinner
and I'm not a saint who knows you better
but I wouldn't have done what you did to me, either...

and

I'm lonely
I know I make myself that way
I shake it off every night
and wake up to it every day

I'm not afraid of my demons,
they look like yours,
only this time I can see them...
they move in the shadows
that I formed myself to free them

even while half listening
you're a predictable bore,
an open mouth sore
chew and sunflower seeds
grinding teeth until gums bleed

find your spot in the grind baby
work ethic isn't hard to find
when you're cornered and shakey

you'll fall off the ladder you're being pulled up
before you make it to the top
your un-callused fingers might be tightly gripping
but before you know it you'll be slipping
if you're lucky
you'll find a sucker on the way down
grab them and pull them with you
and then convince them to give you a crown

picking up your slack
and slapping you on their back

piggy backing is what you do best
on the flesh of those
that are desperate for a love
you'll never give them

you save that only for yourself

you know about riches
but you don't know about wealth

you remember me as a girl that I don't recognize
I'm not afraid of the words you might use to describe it
words used to diffuse the feelings of guilt
that I imagine you're feeling
(or the guilt I hope you're feeling)
I look back and I don't know what I'm not seeing
I'm not afraid of you not telling the truth anymore
(I'm not sure you knew how to do it back then)
and it's freeing
(but I remember you as a girl I probably don't recognize now, either)
the early teens of the 2000's ******* burn me
memories of my girls ******* hurt me
I still think my only fault was needing them too much
forgetting their problems, because they were my main crutch
but feeling guilty makes me feel filthy
because I only needed support and healing
not lies and betrayal and scheming
and I still need healing
I wish I could forgive you
and I wish you could forgive me

disconnected
my joints hurt like rusty clockwork
running low on speed
not sure what it is I even need...
I used to dream of having a tv
in my bedroom when I was thirteen
I could watch whatever movies I wanted
and I'd never have to leave
that was enough for me
I have that now and it's not enough
it's more like a crutch
because it isn't about the little things anymore
life moves much faster than that
it's taking a toll and keeping score
but actually
probably not
life doesn't take time to tally me
I'm one lost soul in a ******* sea
life doesn't start or stop for me because I'm unhappy
it's up to me to grow some spine
take the first step, taking time
to know what I need
so what do I need?
I'm not sure I'll ever know
but I'll put on a good show

White walls and grey cupboards
old wood frames and rubber stoppers
I'm in a new state of mind
In a new environment, but it's all mine
I'm ready to start something new
I'm thirsty and need to fill my cup
it's open in every single direction
and I'm only looking up
Cause I'm not ready to start spinning
and finding my footing
only when my face smashes into the ground
I'm just focusing on the walls around me
and learning their sounds
I'm finding my groove
after some pretty big moves
I'm learning my speed
slowly
surely

can't help but feel a little bit like a failure
even though I know better
the struggle makes you humble
if it doesn't,
open your eyes wider
overwhelmingly inspired
with too little energy
I've lost the identity
of everything I am mourning
it's a melting *** of sickness
I want to feel less
I want to be more
I've been ****** for so long
that being sober feels like a high
my bad mood killer
my void filler
last night I took a drive around my home town
I drove past every house I've ever had memories in
sort of a crazy behavior
but I'm addicted to the nostalgia within each one
if only I could locate the time frame
in which I stopped being honest with myself
but knowing that won't change the past
starting over is terrifying
I just want something that lasts
longer than my attention span
I want attention and affection
from a real ******* man
who isn't afraid of me
but doesn't scare me either
I know my worth
I have to free her
I have to be her
I need a breather
pass a joint my way

Sometimes, I still view relationships in adulthood as if I were a kid. It's important to enjoy playing together, otherwise, we will just argue and not have fun when we try to. So why push it? Better to accept we aren't good at playing together & stay out of each other's business.

Aurora borealis skies
bruises on my thighs
high fidelity type of ****
sharing the same color palette
I never get tired
of looking at those hues
but only when I'm looking up,
or directly at you
cause I'll ignore all the colors
when looking down on my own pores
unless I put it there deliberately with a brush
covering my sores
by mimicking the stars
with glitter crush
I could have stayed under that sky all night
to try and spin myself a thread made out of the light
because I've got a deep desire
to stitch that borealis glow right into my scars
to make that sparkle become my seams
to produce tones that replace muscle memory screams
Yet all the same,
the struggles teach something
and it's that these scars
are a requisite to growing
and bravery seeps out when I leave them showing
because there's a glow in melancholy
and sometimes, in metaphorically burst veins
because when art comes from tragedy
there's a glow in pain

That never needed stitching

those chances you wish you'd taken
wish I woulda been bolder
less cold-
-er, is that possible for me to do?
I've got walls made of iron and ice
and I never thought twice
that it'd leave me swimming
regret pools up in lost chances
lost moments of boldness
lost moments of warmness
could have experienced your soul
could have hurt myself when I saw it was foul
didn't even let myself find out
didn't even let ourselves melt down
into each other
maybe we could have another
maybe it's all lost in blurry summers
maybe I gotta get over myself
feeling like you'd still give a ****
why do I even give a ****,
cause I wanna feel good?
or because now I would
could
should
have

I love new notebooks. I like them even more when they're filled. I love the texture of the raised paper once my letters in ink fill their pages. The satisfying rolling bumps that I created. My fingertips gliding across the paper landscape.

But it never gets bumpy. My mind strikes me down first. I need the perfect pen. When I write, I press hard, so I like a steady stream of ink. It better dry fast, or I'm  smearing it. I don't like it when it smears.

My mind works fast, I can't erase ink. Backspace backspace backspace. So, I type. But I want to fill pages. The screen isn't as satisfying and I don't have handwriting to appreciate. I hate it when my handwriting doesn't look satisfying. But typing works faster, and better with my mind. I'll throw away lists if I don't like my handwriting. I'll make drafts. Re-write. Toss. Re-write. Now I can do everything on the list. The required conditions have been met.

I'll sit down for a little bit. I start day dreaming in poetry. I remember the way light looks on your dashboard. I remember your callused fingers catching on my tights in the passenger seat. I reach for my notebook; I want to write about it.

I need the perfect pen. I'll get up and look for one.

I'm not an aura to bask in
I'm not a butterfly in a cage
I'm not meant to be on a pedestal
I'm meant to be on a stage

I'm not a light in your darkness
I've just got light shining on me
I'm not an adrenaline rush to chase
just because you find me exciting

Romanticizing is isolating
and I don't find it flattering
If you put me in a box
I'm always going to be exiting

And I won't be held accountable
for your inability to truly see
that I'm not an experience
to live up to your day dreams

You don't know me
you know what I let you see
and then you fill in the blanks
and expect me to start performing

I wish you didn't write in ink
because I can't erase what you think
no matter what I correct
there's still residue
of what you thought I owed you

When it's nothing

Lately I've been haunting my ghosts back
just as much as they haunt me
visions of silhouettes against stain glass
crisp autumn air in our mourning
I keep an iron grip in my mind
of every texture, every scent,
every feeling, and what everything meant
The darkness of November always sneaks up on me
and even without light, it's blinding
November always rips away at me
sometimes in a way that hurts me
other times, in a way that's healing
I don't always have the time to dissect it
I don't always find a way to understand it
I just feel it
and let it wash over me
because there's always art waiting
on the other side of the misery

they say it's only human to feel this way
like that is supposed to make me feel less afraid

I had a pair of purple courderoy overalls
second grade, I felt ******* sweet
I had some pretty big feet
still do
twelve minus two
fast forward to
twenty four plus two, nothing's new
I need a good burn cruise
maybe some new music to listen to
I used to try too hard sometimes
overall, I'm pretty apathetic (I care too much)
being addicted to an aesthetic feels pathetic
looking the part still won't make you get it
I'm not looking to be understood
I'm not sure you could
what a cliche
it's okay

I get lumped into that same category
of the ***** you hate because of your insecurities
(I've got a lot of insecurities myself)
making new friends is exhausting
(but isn't always)
and I'm tired of being read wrong
(even writing this is dangerous)
I love all of my friends till the end
(and trust me, I've got some good ones,
this goes out to the old shady ones,
the ones who gripped the knife, drove in the tip
then acted like they wanted to help me find out who did it)
but my silence is my self-defense
to be made to feel poisonous ***** with my head
if we can pick **** up where we left off
that's a friend to me, & a bond that's tough
I keep to myself
but I've got your back if you've got mine
my door is always open if you need a little time
to figure out what's going on in your head
I've got time even if I'm in bed
we'll smoke a joint about it
I'll lift you up
all while I'm in my own pit
of misery... are you here for me?
and yeah, I get it
my internal nature makes people unsure
my hidden anxiety and self-doubt makes it all blur
got you thinking “what the **** is wrong with her?”
but what the **** was wrong with you?
The minute you betrayed me I was through
after that,
if you think I'm constantly wondering what you're up to
you should find a different surface than a mirror to look into
I've got my own ****
lots of it
and I'd always hope you'd be there at the end of it
but I got quiet
& unless I was constantly in-motion and talking, reassuring
I'm not important...
I'm the negative side of alluring
I know it's easy to go straight to gossiping
you create a different version of me in your head
because of things left unsaid
you're a big girl
I wish you had used your words instead
I know you'd like it a lot if there was something I had said
to make you this upset
but I was quiet.
I'm just like you.
lost and stuck in my head
unsure of what to do
and I'm a good ******* friend
it's a shame it had to end
but I'm glad you took your misery around another bend
lower your expectations
and get over yourself again
until you get yourself another quiet friend
that you can't quite control
you're on a roll
and completely miserable

you're interested...
if you put me on, you'll be best dressed.
but I've gotta confess,
if you're going to tell me I'm intimidating,
make that the reason to work a little
to try and get me melting.
tell me, show me, that you want to take me...
because if I have to coach you through foreplay,
I'll take my chances and just stay lonely.
talk about boring.
I want a man to stand firm and say that he wants me.
what kind of strength does it take to act boldly?
this pattern is ******* boring...
now is your best chance to thrill me,
I've got my eyes on you so let's start moving.
I'm not on a stage, this is ballroom dancing
grab my hand and start waltzing
or just do something...
don't just stand there
and tell me that I'm ******* intimidating
I'm ready to bolt if this is initiating

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

it's so hard to not get caught up
from a swift kick of theatrics to the lip
I'm up quick & ready to hit
my heart racing underneath my ribs
my defense mechanisms are instantly steaming
and going full spead ahead until they're beaming
when really I just wish it would all stop...
I feel like I'm wading in a tide pool of good intentions
until someone's wrong ideas pull me back out
and suddenly I'm drowning
worrying
pathetically
about my reputation or clout
in the end, it's **** that doesn't matter
it's **** that isn't real
because
when you die people won't remember everything you did
they'll remember how you made them feel

I may be predictable,
but at least I'm consistent.

No memory stays fresh forever
saturation floods away
and pixels replace your pores
that I store
in the darkest corners that I can find
I wish there were corners dark enough
to hide you away inside of my mind
but those will never be
just like you & me
I miss scratching my nails on your jeans
and missing your kids still feels foreign
but I'm working on things...
And while your actions are the source
of where so much of my behavior came,
I hold accountability mixed with looming shame
I wasn't my best self when I was with you
and for a little bit we both were really trying
but there was so much crying
and even though I always thought it was healing
I didn't realize it was only building
reasons for you to eventually leave
and tell me "you're too much for me"
when my "too much" was something
you were once loving
admiring
and revering
pull from my spine
all these feelings I can't get rid of
I wish for your memories of me
to remain only with gold ties along their edges
there's damage in your lips and mine
I never wanted any of this

reflections aren't my body
reflections are made up of that which is weightless,
on surfaces of those which are limitless.
heavy. heavy. heavy.
do you argue with a car window?
you see reflections blinking back at you
because your eyes are salty and they burn,
and since blinking & burning feels better than breaking down,
you don't argue.
you continue to blink or you look away
and it still feels the same.
aren't you sick of this ******* game?
how you look into these reflections can shift,
just as windows bleed and blur after they grow older.
let your heart get softer
don't let your heart get colder.

when I'm falling in
I get addicted
like sin I can't stop comitting
and ask myself for forgiveness
and say i'm quitting
every time
as if I honestly believe
it will not happen again,
but I know how I am with men...
I need all of you,
borderlining
on possibly devouring you
can't be less than creepy
I inject you under my skin
willingly
I like to feel itchy
want you to scratch me
got that craving
for your attention
your affection
for everything else I purposely don't mention
because I'm passive aggressive
and a little slow motion
while moving in too quick
enough to make me feel sick
because
romance makes me feeling like dying
but
enough to make me want it,
all or nothing

you sneak out from my skin
my spine
why try to cover up
what is going to soon pour out
you've got my strings ******* in knots

no memory stays fresh forever
saturation floods away
and pixels replace your pores
but they form roots in my spine
and justification for my irrational fears
become harder to reach

i can't fight you off
and you can't forget your roots

problem solving a cryptic
different limbs
warmer, but not quite
textured and scarred
hollowed out and barred
hard to decipher
through all my icy layers
hard to get me to warm up
I want you, but not enough
committing is too tough
disappointing men is my hidden talent
I'm inconsistent
inconclusive
desperately secretive, secretly desperate
to be loved the right way
to love the same way
to trust the hands that hold my heart
for the hidden parts of me I show in my art
to be paired with a free-flowing counterpart
but I am ambivalent about everything
it feels like there's no way of escaping
I want a grand gesture
but I want to be left alone
I want to make art all the time
while listening to the saddest songs I know
it hurts
so ******* good though
I want someone who understands it
and drinks it all in as I pour it
and doesn't choke or sink into the floor with it
I know I'm icy, I'm cryptic
and playing up the part that I'm not a romantic
because if I'm being honest
I'm a lover
and I don't think I was ever yours
cause I didn't want to be just another
I didn't want to be your mother
your therapist, your ***
I felt like a hidden world being left undiscovered
toxic qualities can adapt into healthy lessons learned
but only if you're careful...
my melancholy isn't here to be used for bonding
I don't want to talk in circles
about how we're both sad and longing
lift me up and I'll lift you
keep shining baby and I'll shine back at you
I don't want to be sad in love

do you ever pick at your skin?
do you ever cry for no reason?
I've been barely sleeping
and it's bubbling
I know you want this
and it's exciting
and I want you
but it's mainly annoying
because I'm down and out
and I don't wanna **** around
I'm floating like a satellite
try to spot me and you'll lose my light
lost in gradients and gazes
most memories only exist as phases
cause you saw me floating
and I didn't slow down
you couldn't handle me without my crown
but I still want you around

My trauma isn't based in arguments of woman vs man,
It's patterns vs observation;
Post-traumatic self-preservation.
Giving explanations to my hesitation
is a sign of my thirst for consolation,
not an invitation to argue my trauma into rehabilitation
when you don't have all the information...
My heart sleeps every night under a deep rooted tree formation
that shades over all of my humiliation and devastation.
I may be miles away from where I first experienced my trust's suffocation,
I just need to rest here for a little while longer...
The sun is healing and always comes out eventually,
but I can't heal from any light that's cast artificially.
While destruction to my foundation eventually brings creation,
that which is planted can not sprout without germination...
I'm still waiting for my seed's coat to rupture
so I can spread my roots into the earth and learn to trust her.
I'm rebuilding the burned down home that housed my trust in men,
I'm laying bricks down every day until I can believe again....
That I'm not in danger anymore.
That I can move my body away from the door I've been barricaded against,
long before the break in, and ever since.
Because the punches just kept coming;
It was never raining, it was always pouring.
And I'm still floating in those wells that are shaded deeply under trees.
It's not a challenge for you to find a resolve to...
I'm not looking to argue.
I just want you to believe that I'm trying every day,
that I'm not stubborn in my ways...
I'm finding a way out of the darkness; I'm finding a way to feel safe.
I'm always looking for the light.

You assume you know me deeply
from what I post on social media accounts
while I'm behind glass, pins in my sternum,
like a butterfly you decided to mount.
I'm the pretty thing in the corner
that gets dusted off when you're lonely
I'm talked to behind the glass
while you think of new tricks to show me
You want validation and attention
so you put quarters in my ear
you wind me up for a few hours
and then you disappear
I'm so tired of the patterns
I'm tired of the empty plot
You want to wade in my waters
just to freeze over if it gets too hot
You want to tell me about your demons
but you really just want to whine
you want to tell me about your darkness
and how you think it's just as dark as mine
But you know nothing of my darkness
and you know nothing of my light
You don't know what keeps me rested
or what keeps me up at night
You don't ask me what my dreams are,
don't even ask me about the weather
You don't ask me about anything
but tell me you'd like to know me better
You want me to be vulnerable
but there's never a moment where that feels safe
You're a claw machine on a frenzy  
grabbing hands thirsty for my embrace
and you make sure to hit me up late
so there's no evidence to trace
your actions have become so transparent
it's started to make me feel sick
every time I see your messages
I immediately get the ick
I'm so easy to romanticize
when I'm an aura behind a screen
men tell me they love me
but I don't think they know what that means
because I know where I exist
in your little world that I don't fit
you decided a long time ago
I'm too much work, so you quit.
I'm a layaway lover
and a bucket list ****
You have none of my respect
and I wish you luck

bustling and hustling
foot cramps and comforting
the rest of them, they've got things to say
they're in pain
I'm straining my brick wall back
bending over backwards and picking up slack
ears and empathy being filled up
problems of people I don't ******* know
in and out, after digested through bile
I'm quiet and smile, I've got nothing to show
but it's dark here in the real
can't trust the new
fresh and crispy and glaring teeth
what's on their mind is on mine too
machine minds puncturing plastic grips and tags
add ribs or structure for fake ******* velvet
all these false prophets and gossips, I need a helmet
rip off the gutter gaurds, it doesn't do ****
we're swimming in the gutter already
feeling that spinal shudder, loving your sin
and I kind of want in
but who has the time for opening
my feelings aren't really functioning
but I feel you
I wanna grab hold of my boldness
I feel like reading me is like hieroglyphics
crytpic and frustrating as **** unless you ******* get it
but that takes time
and a comfort that doesn't exist as mine
I need to reclaim the wonders of my grime
I've got a soreness all over me like a walking bruise
putting out doesn't get misused
unless you're putting in
the ******* work
and sure
you could read it differently
but where this is even going is a mystery too
nothing really here for you to sink your teeth into
I want a life filter like a bruise
dreamy blues and purple hues
feeling like **** fits the vibes
everyone around me seems to have a tribe
and I'm wandering and lost, which is okay, I know it
those in the shadows don't need to be told to find the light
because light exists on at least one side even still
it's about a balance and a will
this **** isn't real