i feel like i’ve lost all my shine,
everything that made me feel alive
i’m alive i’m alive i’m alive
i’m all i’ve got and i’m sub-par
i don’t do anything the same anymore
and i’m so afraid i’ll never do it the same again.
i'm scared that i feel my best when i'm
pinching at my skin, piercing at my will to feel,
reeling in from the pain that brings itself
down over me and creating my own
so i feel in control;
i'm afraid i'll always want to take it in my own hands.
when really i just want to feel like everything
matters enough to title my assignments
something funny, again.
you were always there
just out of touch, and i did
not know how to reach
can't find the good in everything
but i'll keep looking
because end-to-end, everything
has got to begin
can't fight the bad for the
sake of fighting something.
can't fight the good for not
being good enough for
you can't frame something
in popsicle sticks and call it
a masterpiece, i guess
i saw god and she said that science was a sin
so i asked what level of hell i'll be rotting in
she said it was going to be okay
it's like suffocating and choking
on chunks of my own guts and i'm always
talking about dying, about living
but i dye all the time to prove i'm still
and, man, i saw god today
she said nice to see you again.
i sat along the shore, waiting- god knows what for, but i was intent. maybe i was waiting for you to come back, like you always do. maybe i knew you weren't going to.
i could try. i could dream.
the sky went grey with clouds looming like they were full of judgement and not water- my anxiety swelled but i would not be deterred. i was waiting. the rain poured. something was bound to happen, though, and i didn't want to miss it.
the sun fled and the crowd dissipated and the city went on, cars pulsing through its veins but i stayed right there by the water looking out. my heart ached and melted but i swear i felt nothing.
i must've found eighty messages in eighty bottles and they all said the same thing. i didn't listen to a single one. i figured i hallucinated them.
my stomach hallowed and i tried to stand up but the tide dragged me back down. i saw a dolphin chasing a boat about fifty feet away and i tried to call out but it hurt. my lungs were on fire and the back of my throat tasted like bile as if my digestive tract was working on consuming myself, as if i was drowning but i couldn't have been drowning in two inches of water. the tourists with umbrellas and neon towels were long gone and my only company anymore was seaweed.
i was so terrified.
you didn't come back, and you weren't going to, and i knew it from the start but i didn't know what else to do.
at least the saltwater was washing away all the scars you left me. at least the rain would wash away the blood.
scraped knees and
that really mattered,
but it doesn't really
matter anymore; you
used to take me too
seriously and now he
laughs at all my jokes.
you can hear her dog
snoring from your bed-
room; i can hear you
whining from your
rocking chair. you
keep saying you are an
artist. i don't know