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I find you in the margins of old school books,
in the cupboard where I keep my old notepads,
in the stories I’ve forgotten I’ve written.
It’s all scraps of myself in rounded letters,
uncanny because it looks like me,
sounds like me,
but it’s you and it is you
but it’s like me too.

I’m opening you (and me) back up and I hate you.
I hate you, but here we are,
in the mirror maze,
all these mes and yous
in the endless tunnel of mirrors,
back to back, side to side,
caught in ourselves at every angle.
We’re all the same: We’re all so different.
None of us are good.

I hate you.

I hate you at every age,

Then reality splays, sprawls flat out in front of me, exams, money, work, decisions, tight nooses that bind me to life. Get your head out of the clouds, girl  *(2012)

at every stage,

Big smiles, A stars, clever girl, the anomaly, dry compliments, sand paper against my skin. Locked in, not a word, just a mind gone grey, a growing mass of dust that swallows the light and only allows for glasses poured half empty* (2014)

at every moment,

I don’t fit in, never have done, never will. I’m always one step ahead or one step behind. I’m never quite there. But no one understands. They say they do but they don’t. I’m different and I don’t like it but I don’t want to change because this is who I am and whatever happens, I have to put up with it (2012)

all your hatred, you happiness, your ignorance and your sadness

The scab peels and leaks. Too soon to heal, too late to undo the fall. Tomorrow, you’ll trip again and your skin will bleed but this time you’ll know where to find the first aid kit. (2013)

You make me sick.

The world was blue today, a metaphorical wish wash of tears and a meagre ocean. Ice cream dripped in depression, picnic blankets snagged on pebbles and the kite committed suicide on the telephone lines. (2013)

I hate the scraps you’ve left behind

I put bits of you in the bin. I put you out for recycling.
I donate you to charity shops and so you live on and I can’t get rid of you.
There’s no way out of this mirror maze,
no way to avoid the mirrors at angles,
no way for me to escape you or for you to escape me.

There are so many of you and I literally want to beat you all to death.
Oh, I hate you. I hate you.
I don’t think I’ve ever hated anything more than I hate you.
I hate the tone of your words,
I hate your stupid sadness.
I hate your happiness.
I hate your hope.
I hate the memories of your laughter.
I hate the memories of your fun.
I hate you for all the things you’ve done and
never had time to feel bad for.
I hate you in the photographs,
in the words, in the schoolbooks,
in the poems that I’ve shared,
I hate, I hate, I hate.

I wish I could smash up this maze of mirrors and you,
but then I’d only be left with myself
and I hate her too.
I think i overused the word hate in the poem tbh, but you know, it's a hateful poem. Experimenting with stuff...not sure it's working
It rained for three straight days
during my first visit
to you.
Fitting. I should have expected as much.
Especially if it corresponds to your happiness,
I can only be more thrilled
about rain
and what it brings down with it
and the slates it washes clean.

We drank with reservations
and read poetry with gusto
and fell to the floor with love
as the thunder clapped across the
valley
and the rain poured from our skin.

You are small,
not even close to helpless,
but I would face down anything
so that your hands may stay and fit
so delicately in mine and
so your lips would find mine
again.

When we met, finally,
and I felt your frame fall into mine,
trusting me enough for that
so soon,
I was honored,
and I knew that the fears I had
about what this would be like,
what you might be like,
what we might be like,
were unfounded,
and very complicatedly so.

Wouldn't it have been easier
to despise the other?
But no,
instead we fell into rhythm
as if we had never been out of sync,
we fell  into and onto each other
time and again
in ways that could only be described as
perfection.

I saw you gaze onto me
with a mystique only Picasso himself
would be able to render,
so I lost myself in your eyes
with words I've known for
long and with thoughts I could
finally say.

It rained for three straight days,
but on the day I left
the sun beamed through the sky.
So I left,
with kisses and kind words,
and it wasn't until I was on
the excruciating road back
that I realized
I was leaving home
for the second time
in only one trip.
It's 3:30 am
Every night something is keeping me up
Every night I lay awake thinking...
Is it insomnia keeping me up through the dark dreary nights
Is it my chaotic bipolar mind telling me nothing in the end will work out right
Is it loneliness feeling as if all my friends left and nothing seems right
Or is it jealously where I don't know my place in the world, but everyone else I know seems just fine
I can't find my mind
I can't make the time
The wiring went faulty
I'm out of place
Am I out of my mind?
It's 3:32 am
Continplating on what I should do with this life
Everyone always says things in the end workout alright
But I can't get any sleep at night
I'm tired of trying
I'm tired of putting up a fight
And for what cost?
All my feelings and emotions are lost.
Bipolar Insomnia
Thoughts are scattered
Words are lost
I rely on your existence
keep me at peace
My heart heavy
My body weightless
I only smile within your presence
My cup runneth over
My stomach full
Surely I have a vision to share with you
Darling
Darling with the sweetest heart

By: Leory Santana Dawn
She's a toxic poison worse than the nicotine I let fill and corrode my lungs.
Her beauty, mind and figure ******* away yet I'm troubled and left in such dismay.
Oh how I let her use me over and over.
Weakly my mind is erased and swept underneath me.
Shallowly I drink whiskey to escape the mess I've made.
Escaping from the grasping width she has me constantly tangled and drained.
Use yes use me again, because at least the pain is something I can feel during my days when you're away.
Am I a backup plan while you **** your bitter *** life to a **** shame?  
When you're the only girl I've been getting with is that my sweetest mistake?
You take me for granted and sleep in some other men's sheets that you cause to stain.
While they ******* to far away constellations and I'm miles and miles away.
While all I do when you're here and there is care and try my awfully best to be the man you truly need.
I'm drenching myself in pills at night again because you don't seem to care nor need.
And I've found myself lost within you, but you're never there, even when you are it seems like somehow you're still not around.
It's only when you need me that you seem to care.
But **** me you do have the most beautiful hair. With your radiant smile and honey suckle eyes I'm left in awe and great despair.
Yet I'm taken for granted by you, thrown around like waste that you can just dispose of when you please. You take off to see the other men that arouse you which we do not like to speak.
Each night when you're seeing other men I'm left recklessly on my knees.
I cave in hoping you return or I at least I hear you call to speak.
If you gave me the chance will you see what we could be?
Or am I wasting my time hoping for you and me?
You're toxic, yet so beautiful and tragic. And for me my body feels weak as I bleed on my silk fabricated sheets.
Like the stains you lead on the other men's sheets.
Is this the best we can be?
Deep down in my heart this isn't how imagined it to be.
Sadly I just can't find myself to leave.
You **** me in so disgustingly deep.
Use me like you use me. I'm vulnerably weak. Am I just the backup plan when these other men get bored and leave?
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