How do I describe what I'm feeling,
When words just can't explain,

How do I make you understand this sensation,
This feeling that has no name,

It's like standing in the eye of a hurricane,
Stood firm on the wind whipped sea,

It's like walking around while you're drowning,
And everyone thinking you can breathe,

It's like living in constant silence,
Mute, unable to scream,

It's like running from something terrible, invisible,
Trapped in endless looping, always running, never free,

It's like when you're bent on writing,
But the words aren't coming, stifled, trapped beneath,

I'd call it desperation,
But that doesn't sound right to me,

All this happens while I'm still living,
While the world around me's still moving,

The storm hides behind my smile,
It doesn't look forces but it is,

All this glorious chaos,
All this madness that I hid,

It's all starting to boil over,
Over the sides of the ***, from underneath the lid,

And I'm trying to contain it,
And maybe that's what it is,

It's part of me, it craves freedom,
That would only make sense,

But I'm not ready to give it freedom,
No, not like this,

It's a beast, and honestly, it scares me,
What happens if it gets too strong? too big?

But maybe there's nothing for me to fear,
Maybe it's just me,

So maybe that's what I'm feeling,
That's what I am,

Afraid of me.

Oh poetry, how serious,
It doesn’t have to be,
It can be light & airy,
As noon time in the spring,
No hidden plot or subtext,
No between the lines, just words.
About something simple & pretty
Like the singing of the birds.

He called it ‘fire water,’
He’s smart like that
My dad,

He made me afraid,
When I was small,
Of something I’d never had.

It was grown up stuff,
Not for me,
I was just a kid,

But I got curious,
About grown up stuff,
I bet you can guess what I did.

I drank that fire water,
& it burned
Just like he said.

I drank it,
That fire water
& it went straight to my head.

But it didn’t make me a grown up,
Not really,
I’m still just a kid

But it gave me a taste for poison,
Burning stuff in which I hid,
That’s what it did.

The boxes
which keep my blood clean
are stacked as tall as I,
a monument
in the spare room
to past battles.
Too many words,
too many thoughts
******* in the
hand-to-hand combat
with mortality.

No more.

What life I have
will not be defined
by an indeterminate end.

I live to write poems;
I will no longer die in them.

I'm kind of stuck
At least... I think I am
Somewhere between telling everyone I know to *******
And "just please come hold me friend"

Some place in between an uneasy heart and hectic mind

"I'm depressed"
Can't I just say it without having to explain why?
Sometimes I don't even know which reason to choose

Short replies

"You seem like you don't want to talk"

You're right, but I also want to reach out
I want out
I want to let go of everything
And capture it all in my arms

like a fire fly in the palm of restless hands,
Just let me hold on to your light
Atleast, just for tonight

Because I'm feeling stuck.

You were different than the others,
You weren't whiskey,
You were ******,
And I was hooked.