you know,
i have this pen
that i borrowed from somebody,
i don't even remember who it was,
but i kept it,
i still have it,
because i knew that's the pen that you liked
that exact brand,
the same model,
the same ink,
i couldn't get rid of it,
even after the ink ran out,
i kept this stupid meaningless pen,
the one without purpose,
just like i kept these feelings,
i'll keep holding onto them for you
in case you come back
and you need them
like you'd need your favorite pen

it's writing about how ****** up i am
that's what i use to avoid actually acknowledging how to get better
writing about how i'd rather be doped up
than go to therapy
when really it's my self-sabotage that got me here
i've been spiraling for a while
just word ***** again and again
but none of it makes enough sense

it's finding someone else to fix it
someone else to talk at midnight
just someone to dump all of my problems on
but this is how i wind up hating myself
how i say that i'm one of the people i never wanted to see myself become
but here i am
trauma dumping on a bunch of strangers on the internet
because i can right?
as long as i hide behind a screen
no one has to see the crusted tears that have accumulated on my face
right?
seems normal enough

i started to realize
that i didn't want the diagnosis
because i wanted to get better
i wanted the diagnosis because i wanted to be drugged up
to finally feel good, or to fade into nothing
my own sweet little oblivion
because if i just slept,
and didn't wake up, it wouldn't bother anyone

i've thought about a coma
how it might be my way out
to be unconscious for so long
to not wake up for months
maybe that would help me
just wait until everything is normal
until i'm normal

i've thought about taking the type of drugs that make you forget
the kind that makes it all go away
like that one SSRI i had
i woke up, and couldn't remember yesterday
or the last month
it felt good
until i had to write it all down
just so i didn't forget what i was doing

then i keep thinking nothing's wrong
that it's really just something wrong with me
that i've been lying to myself
that's what my mom says
and then my friends say to look into it
and my head is scrambling to pick up the pieces
of late night internet searches,
desperately trying to find some label to whats in my head
and only coming to the conclusion that it really isn't real

maybe i'm not real
and that's why i can never figure it out
maybe that's why my hands feel numb,
and all of the songs i listen to seem to rearrange themselves in my head
into words i don't want to hear anymore
maybe that's why there are some parts of me
i'd like to get rid
just to feel the weight of existence get off me

it's that feeling,
the one where you turn up the music
to turn down the noise in your head

the one where you took a drive
just to scream at the steering wheel
and curse at it for not being something else
curse at yourself for not being someone else
as your hand slams down on the dash

it's the feeling where you've run out of options
where you just stop caring
and stop feeling
so you decide
let's ******* feel

liquor pours into wounds
and stings less than salt
smoke makes the bees in your head weary,
withering away makes you feel alive

it's that feeling
where you lost hope
the one where you don't know what to do

was a wish
wasn't it something that you could have said over and over again
wishing for something different
but the truth can only be one thing cant it?
i think that we've had enough of the lies
and the pretty words to cover up for the bad paint job you left on life
like something left rusty
after your sick water damage
nice sugar coating
until we all got heart disease
it has no meaning
the words i'm writing
not to me
but i'm still feeling bitter
i hope you feel it too

forget
just forget
become who you always wanted to be
not me though
never me
not the one with the past
and the need for sad eyes and drama
black clouded dreams,
a swarm of flies and rot,
but dark forests and a different story calls out to me
anyone else
not me though
must forget
must lie in the land until the dirt takes me as it's own,
makes me a child of moss
yeah,
i think that's who i'll be
forget me easily

you ever read the words you wrote
and remember crying
hunched over a keyboard
a notebook
pencil in hand
wishing for ******* death
wishing for something to take over your body
willing your head to float
like you drowned
but you've been drowning your entire life
this year it felt like the ocean clung to your heart
with iron chains wrapped around it
like a snake coiling around you
choking you to death

you ever read the words you wrote
and wondered why you hurt so bad?
wondered why you're reading it again
because you know you're just going to feel the pain
over and over again

you ever read it again
out loud
feel the tar dripping in your heart
feel the blood leaving your body
in perfect little parallel lines
you ever read the words you wrote
just to feel it
to go back to illness
go back to anger
just because
all of that feeling is so much better than being numb

I'll give you something to cry about!
I'll give you a transcript of all the things you said

a record of all the things you did
a clever recollection for you to look at

after you're done looking at my corpse.
I'll give you a mistress and traumatic time,

I won't, however, give you custody of the kids,
or even allow visitation.

I'll be a cruel *******, and give you a miserable life.
My plan was to get you hooked on money,

and my stupid ******* personality,
dictatorship and addicts withdrawal are sure to ensue.

Miss. Elizabeth Ann,
I'll give you a good time,

only until I find someone different.

Top hats and bow ties
sweet heart candies and deep red dresses

a meaningless fantasy that I should've never had,
not with you anyways.

Frizzy hair underneath grey fedoras
and bright eyes below dark eye lashes and excessive amounts of eyeliner.

This is life now,
me with my caked on makeup and poorly died hair

tea and nose rings.
Strangely enough, I think they go together well.

Teenage years and a different sexuality,
drivers license and a new gender.

Small crisis and a big smile,
fake laughter, and very real tears.

What a year.
What a year

yes, there might have once been a bitter sweet boy
but have you ever heard of the honey eyed girl?

the one who made the bitter boy better?
the girl with splinters in her palms, and pine needles in her hair?

yes, there may have been a bitter sweet boy,
but did you hear about that sweet little child
who spoke softly of sweet taffy and maple syrup like it was their savior?

yes there might have been a bitter sweet boy,
but have you heard of the boy who was so much easier to like?
the quiet one who sat in the back
who never knew who in the **** he was?
the boy who wasn't dark and mysterious
and didn't have his sights on hurting you for ever thinking to ask how he was
did you ever hear of that boy?
the sweet one?

i feel like dirt on hands
constantly brushed off
washed away with sorry excuses and their *******
antibacterial soap they think smells so good

i feel like that poor confused girl
the one in that book that was never very popular
always making the wrong decisions and having the wrong ideas
such a silly girl
such a stupid girl

i feel left out
like a lamp post in the wind
ragged and worn,
but still ******* standing
still trying to light up the street that it's mind long ago abandoned

it's almost as if just giving a person a promise to hold onto
is like giving them thin air
strange,
isn't it?
that promises meaning absolutely nothing
even after we put so much behind them

hey it's kind of a *****
isn't it?
together for two months
practically a record for us two
and then you give up
just kind of stop trying
start flirting with that girl i told you i didn't like

it's kind of a *****
isn't it?
when you date a girl with her own mind
must really ****
when you can't change me
to do what you want
that must really ****

okay, i'm tired of fighting now
tired of not being with you

i'm over this
pull your **** together
please

i'm tired of avoiding you
tired of pretending that i'm not hurt
not scared to be away from you

okay, i'm over this
tired of being mad at you

it's catching up to me
that bad feeling
that knowing that she could be with you right now
it's spreading in my chest

i'm actually ******* feeling it
almost crying in class
isn't it great?
i don't think so
i bet you do though

you're probably sitting there mad at me
for actually caring
probably mad at my thought process that those texts were you cheating
i'm over this
please come back
come back when you don't love her
when i'm the only one on your mind

i'm so sick of lying
of telling people things that aren't true

because what if they knew me?
huh?
what would i do then?

i'm so tired of pretending
that i know who i am
and that i have it all figured out
can't it just be okay to be a wreck?

i'm so tired of being too anxious to eat
and not knowing what the hell is wrong
of trying to pick out one of the reasons i feel sick today

was it the meds
or the truth rotting like a swallowed tooth in my stomach

i'm so tired of being stupid
and not knowing

i'm sick of everything
and i don't know why

vanish mode
it's beautiful,
isn't it
kinda like snap
but for the poor ******* that don't have it
as soon as a message is seen
it just disappears
all of that texting her
pretending you didn't
showing up on WiFi bills
and the desperate smile on your lips

god
i'm so dumb
to think that anyone could love me
to think that maybe for a second
i could just breathe
knowing that someone loved me most
because that's all i wanted
i didn't want to be an alternative
just another cat call
on another lonely Tuesday night
i'm so tired of not being enough
to be the first on your mind

i'm so stupid
and so done with being numb
so ******* tired of the back burner
god ******
i let myself fall for you
i let it happen
and look where that got me
crying on the phone
typing out a poem
about you and my worse judgement

i don't know why i let us happen

do you remember that story?
the one that was in the future
where everything was good
and no one had to do anything for themselves?
that story?

well,
what happens when we get there?
what is the point of living?
to just have another machine scratch our behinds
and look at all of the people
not rich enough to own the newest tech
like we always do

why are we working towards and idle future?
to do nothing that we love
when we can find anything we please
within reach
never going out to see the nature that we destroyed
with over population

why do we want to fill our homes with distraction?
to little there to keep our brains busy?
do they try to self destruct when we run out of things to do?
run out of stimulants
that our body
said it needed?
what happens when our screens no longer satisfy?
what becomes of our pathetic life

what if i do feel something
when i sleep?
should i just wait for it?
what happened to me?
i need to fix it
and i don't know how
and now i'm just remembering
how you never told me anything
and how i thought i wanted you
what a fool i was

that leads me on to point two
the one where i meet him
the one where i thought that i love him
and i wanted him so bad
until i got him
then i didn't
and i don't know how that happened

then we just keep running the track
of guilt
keep thinking of all of the times
that i just leave my messages
because god forbid i look at them
what if i get into an actual conversation?
what do i do then?
and around and around i go
chasing my own guilty tail
because i had time on my hands
to think about all the ways i've failed you

i hope you read this and smile
sweet confirmation i always needed
that i was never ******* enough for you

who knew
that there are so many dangerous things
all around you

you only ever notice
either when there's a baby around
or someone threatening is around

you start thinking of all the things
that could hurt someone
all the things that just lie about
looking innocent

things like that one frying pan
that's surprisingly heavy
or that flat iron that you left lying around
that lamp is starting to look
more and more like a base ball bat with nails in it

what do you think?
because i'm thinking everything can hurt you
if you try hard enough

feel kind of sick
wonder why
did i do something wrong?
did i manage once again to **** up?
what happened to me
what did i do?
feel kind of sick
and i miss you
i need you
you're not here though.
why would you be?
feel kind of sick
i'm okay though
i promise,
kind of.

you were a face
that i knew at first long ago
then one that grew more friendly in my mind

two long hours
sitting in the back of a science class
and one reckless night

a tiger blanket that i borrowed from a friend
and embarrassment when you point out the freckle on my nose

you were a face
that i knew at first long ago
then something that took over my thoughts more and more

you haven't promised you won't leave
we both know that promise in particular is futile,
but you know you'll stay
for as long as you can

you didn't promise me anything
not even that you loved me
but you're here
and that's enough

with a poorly made school lunch on your breath
and my hand in yours
my legs swung carelessly over your thighs
your free hand in my lap

i'm okay with you here
even if it won't last

i've been so careless
so willing to be reckless
i just remembered who i am
safe
never get in trouble
plain girl
with plain clothes
and no road-rash laden knees
with intact gag reflexes
and with dark circles under my eyes
simply because i stayed up too late
trying to finish missing work
not because i was partying and drunk
i've been so careless
i forgot that i shouldn't be
that i should be okay
and admit when i'm not
which, actually, i've been doing
i just forgot who i was for a moment
the plain jane that sits and the back
and gets average grades

sometimes i just go a little too deep
and i remember that i actually want to live
actually want to be here
sometimes i panic
and the everything won't stop flowing
i'll ache just a little at my stupidity
i'll dissociate just a little too much
and forget where i am
sometimes i just go a little too deep
and remember my words
that i was supposed to use them
sometimes i see
what i've wrote
and i remember that i wasn't supposed
how could i have been so dumb?

tooth picks
keep my eyes open
stopping my dreams
from become nightmares
force reality
like putting morphine drip
into a stuffed animal
make the absence of something
provide legitimacy
tooth picks
keeping my tongue in place
better not to talk back
better not to question
tooth picks
sticking in my ears
if i could get a minute
to get past the head ache
maybe i could form a complete thought
make the proper sentences
all my teachers longed to see
tooth picks
in my brain
tell me to stay the same
i dare you
tell me not to change
when you require me to change my personality
tooth picks
plucked from places unknown
picking gold teeth
expensive diamonds
to fill minds
usually flooded with dread
tooth picks
always keeping my mind somewhere
that's never within reach

i can't stand this feeling
i can't breathe
my head hurts
i hurt
i can't ******* feel anything
unless it's a manic heartbeat in my chest
unless it's feeling like i have to die
i have to write
i have to
i have to
i have to
and there is no saying otherwise
there is no pretending like i don't care
there is no calming down the heart beat
no calming down the breathing
nothing
nothing
nothing
you can't breathe
you don't deserve to breathe
until it's to late
until we've said we've done all that we can do
without even actually looking at you
nothing
everything
nothing
everything
i hurt
it hurts
i hurt
i wish that this would end
i wish that
i wish
i-
why did it have to be this way
why?
TELL ME WHY IT HAD TO ******* BE THIS WAY?
WHY
Why?


w h y  why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why?????

why does math hate me?
why does it call my name and pretend
that it hasn't butchered my brain?
pretend that it hasn't cut up precious pieces of myself
that i actually need
why do i sit here
in the corner of the class
writing poems
about my keen hatred?

hi math
i'll give you the *******
i don't give a **** about what you think

i don't know why
it feels like you're not real
if you're happy

don't know why
it feels like you're hiding something
if you're not crying

i don't know why
it feels like you don't want me
if we're not constantly talking

i don't know why
i feel like you're not standing here next to me
when we're closer
than we were before

hate sitting there
waiting for your old hair cut
to not give me a bad feeling

hate sitting here
thinking...
why the **** are your jeans so tight?

hate sitting here
knowing full well that there's no reason
to feel this feeling

hate sitting here
waiting for your eyes
to not be ******* dead

hate sitting here
knowing that you're going to have to touch me
with cold hands giving me shock
and a clenched jaw

hate sitting here
out of control
with you're hands around my neck
and a head ache
i wish would leave me alone

hate sitting here
i really just hate it

eat the egg
have the chicken
fry the chicken
and scramble the egg
visit the live chicken and call it by name
as you steal it's eggs from it's cage
when the chicken can't lay no more
eat the chicken
that hatched from it's egg
punish it for not being a good little mother
punish it for age
punish the chicken for not laying
when they can't help their nature
eat the chicken
crack the egg
watch a chick fall into your frying pan

that one **** *** that you can spend the rest of your life with
like as a friend
or like, you know, more
jamie
cuz, you know, why not?
the girl could break your heart
and she'd do it in a way
that you wouldn't know
until it was far to late
jamie
cuz, you know,
why not?
she's a keyboard smash
and your crack addiction all at once
the reason that you started smoking
and couldn't stop
she's the lightning that breaks the tree in half
and makes skunk stripes in your black hair
she's the one that you'd let burn up your life
jamie
cuz, you know, why not?

hi
what in the flying **** is happening?
can you answer me because it seems like you can't
it seems like you've superglued your mouth shut
tied your fingers up
never to type my name again
hi
what in the flying **** is happening?
can you maybe like find the time to type a few words
after all, look at this poem
maybe you could take the time to mumble something under you breath
something that i know i won't like
hi
what in the flying **** is happening?
you know what
you can just **** right off
if my life means nothing to you
then tell me
why, in the whole world of other people's lives
that you could **** up,
did you chose mine?

it's like a tsunami in a bottle.
everything that i've decided to feel,
and all of the things i wished i never had.
do you ever wish you were near me?
ever wish to smell the salty waters
that earthquake within?
you're a burnt crime scene,
hoping all of the flames
would burn away the evidence
only making the finger prints into dark bruises against glass
you were a hasty mistake,
something to cover up what happened
you were a fiery mishap
i was a tsunami in a bottle,
nature trying it's best
you were a crime in smoke

that feeling where your heart hurts
and you just want the tears to spill,
kinda like having a tooth ache
and just wanting it pulled finally
you know?
that kind of sickness in your heart
where you want something so bad
and you know in your heart that you'll never get it
you know?
that kind of feeling where you stay on the phone for hours at a time
just to feel good
for once in your ******* life
you know?
i suppose you have some sort of mental stability left if you don't
have fun with that

writewithoutspaces
itsallihaveleft
seeiftheycanreadit
justlikethe­wayitalk
writewithoutspaces
tellmewhydoesitmatter
whetherornot
ip­ushthespacebarbetweenwords

I'll scream in my own ******* head
Until this ******* feeling goes the **** away
Until this sadness in my chest
This nothingness residing within my head
Goes away
I'll scream
All the time until it goes away
But the screaming doesn't seem to break the silence
Doesn't seem to bother the voices that won't let me go
All those **** ******* voices

I've always loved the villain
The one with the bad past
And a good heart
The villain with dark hair
And a defined jaw
I've always loved the villain
The boy that makes killing art
With flaming eyes
And a broken smile
That'll break your heart
If it doesn't break your head first.

i am enough
i've eaten enough
i've loved enough
i've hurt enough
i'm pretty enough
i'll be fine
but there's that one voice that keeps yelling at me
in the back of my head...
'what if you aren't;
what if you aren't enough;
you're not fine;
and you never will be'
i hate that voice
because until it says anything,
i can really believe all of the words that i've been saying

Hey
Can you see me?
Or am I still here trapped inside my head?
Hey, can you see me?
Or am I just over here being stupid?
Hey
Are you still there?
Or have you left because my mind is a trap?
Hey
I try to say all the right things at all the right times
But I never do
Because I am trapped inside of my skull
My silky white bonnet
Made of bone

I am the moonchild
That roams this earth
I am the moonchild
That bathes in the night's inky depths,
In moon-lit rivers
I am the moonchild that haunts your dreams
And in your wake
I am the moonchild
Who makes you feel more than just pain
I am the moonchild
Who runs wildly through the night
As if I were a young child a circus
I am the moonchild
Love me for who I am, basking in the moon light