Is there romance in ***?
Does romance deplete once kisses turn to slobber?
Do I feel love when my shirt comes off?

After "I love yous" have been said
Or more accurately,
after I finally said "I love you too"
They lay me down
Say they need me
In this moment
It means so much to them.

And I can't tell
Was it romantic?
Would it have been moreso
If we just
Held hands?
Or stared at each other
In loving astonishment
At our mutual feelings?

Am I learning to feel the romance in ***?
Or do I just adore
That they
find romance in something that is so
sexualized?

My thoughts are confusing.
I love them, but hate them and I can never tell if they are trying to raise me up or destroy me. I will look at myself in the mirror and think that I look pretty. I will look at myself an hour later and want to shatter the mirror with my forehead and smear the blood from my glass cuts all over my face as makeup to go to work. What difference does an hour make!?

Sometimes love and hate are hard to differentiate.
They both give me sensory overload,
Even when there is nothing to
touch
When there is nothing to
Hear.
Silence can turn into screaming when I think about you.
I am bound to go deaf.

I love being distracted.
It is the only bubble of feeling in which I can't focus on my imperfections.
It's the only time where I can forget about life's lemons, and forget that I have to labor to make lemonade out of them.
But from my living room, every 15 minutes I can hear the clock chime.
It reminds me that everything comes to an end.
In a way, this makes me feel good. It reminds me that eventually all of the work I have to do will be done. It reminds me that all of my worries will eventually conclude.
But it also reminds me that everything good ends. It reminds me that strong connections to other people could eventually break. It reminds me that I may have to see the day where pets and loved ones cease to exist.
It reminds me that one day I will cease to exist.

I FEEL LIKE I AM DROWNING
IN THE DISGUSTING, ****** MUSH OF MY BRAIN
HELP
HELP
HELP
I'M SCREAMING
but people laugh it off like it's a funny joke
i laugh too
because life is a joke

MY BRAIN IS BLENDED
MY LIMBS ARE DISMEMBERED
MY TORSO IS IS GUTTED
AND I'M LAUGHING

its 2 a.m.
and im wide awake.

nobody is as awake as i am
unless theyre partying,
if they're awake at all.

i message you first
pouring out nothing but love.

i message her
sending her memes and talking about her previous messages
that i never saw until now.

i message him
asking him where he is
and that i miss him.

nobody responds
as it's 2 a.m.

why am i awake?

i try to sleep
its been an hour
3 a.m.
and my phone screen lights up.

it's you.

why are you awake??

thank god you're awake...

why do i care so much
about meaningless **** that won't effect my future?
that only gives me daily headaches when i think about it,
or makes me quickly furious?
whatever the reason,
it's like an ****** for my brain...

I’m sorry
The more I’m with you
The more I realize
How beautiful she is

The more I’m with you
The more I appreciate her delicate hands

The more I hear your shallow words
The more I realize how heavy hers are.
That every sentence that slips by her lips
Is so carefully crafted
But with barely any effort

That just shows
How strong her mind is
And how simple yours is.

You’re too big
How am I supposed to see you
Eye to eye?
But I can look her in the eyes
And they are filled with so much happiness
Genuine happiness
When she sees my face.

is there hope
for a future
that was only dreamed of

I tear the skin off of my lips
And then I can taste the salty blood.
My mother says to me,
"Annie! Stop!"
But I ignore her.
And I chew away.
She asks me,
"Annie!! Why do you do that!?
It freaks me out!!"

Maybe I think that my lips will disintegrate.
That maybe I will just
End up eating them away.

No.
That's too strange.

Maybe I think that they need to be smoother,
Just in case,
And that any jagged bits of skin poking up needs to be ripped off
Like a bandaid.

No.
I'm too shy to kiss anyone.

Maybe I just love the sting
Of exposed skin.

I don't think so.
I'm pretty sure I've become desensitized to that
sting.

My answer, Mom, is that I don't know.

I couldn't tell you even if I tried.

The small hands of a child
Are innocent
Reaching for fake animals
Or candy bars.
But his mother
Says he shouldn’t have been here
His father
Never kisses him.
He has nothing to reach for.
A child can be born without innocence.
Small hands can do more
Than reach for fake animals
Or candy bars.
A tiny killer, he is.

so tell me why you're here
is it to relieve your mind with writing words?

or

is it to hear the words of others
hoping
to find relief?