The last thing I would wish you
Is well

I can't fathom
The emptiness you've left
In this universe
In lives
In existence
That leaves it dull
That leaves us lacking
I would give you a million
Of my breaths
If it would mean
You'd breathe just once, again.
Please forgive
My insensitive words
Because you're suddenly gone now
And all I think about
Is what I'm missing.
Your belief in laughter medicine
And your hand on my shoulder
When I felt less than I should.
I would give you
A thousand river dips
And sun beams
If it would mean
You could Be,
again.

All I can say is
I guess I'm pretty happy
you asked me that, too.

when my fingerprints
are full of ink
or
tip tapping on the keys
I am subject to denial
for
I have not lived with enough
of myself
to write anything
worth your time.

.
Often forgetful
Yet so rarely forgiving
We spin, on and on.

..
I am ever so
In debt to the beginning
For learning to love

...
Every time I
Let go of your memory
I remember more

....
Every passed glance
Is just another reason
To learn how to shine

.....
I am more and more
Becoming what you looked for
My timing needs work

I never had the chance
to hear 'I miss you'
uttered from your lips
with any hint
of you sincerely being serious

I can feel the freedom
tearing me
limb from limb
because my core burns out
but my ribs cave in
and every notch on my bedpost
doesn't feel like victory
or anything, really
because the last time I felt
was the last time I said
I miss you
and I won't put myself
through righteous hell
(again)

even though here I stand
pulling excuses from thin air
like,
you forgot your pen,
you still have my sweater,
I still have your virginity,
tucked into that drawer
that I won't open
because it smells like home
and
we both know that would drive me
right over the edge

yet you also know so well
that if I was presented with 'home'
I wouldn't be able to tell
the difference.
So when I say home,
I'm inferring
that it tasted like your absence
and passive aggression
and sheets tangled with sweat
no longer from passion
but from the constant
cage of dreaming
taking a weightless axe
to throats
to home
to anyone
who dares to say
that I've moved on
because

I've moved seventeen times
and never once
have I felt like
I did with your face in my hair
and my chin on your chest
like home.
and I've avoided it so long
and now it's or I am gone
and either way
your eyes shift past my face
past my naked sincerity
past my begging for
'I miss you's
that won't come home.

Kind of like
when the flames licked up
what I called home,
And every blink
came with a prayer
of waking up,
just the same
I still haven't.
the last time I saw you
my heart red like embers
like your eyes,
and they met mine so empty.
I think back to the past two decembers
wanting and then
having you,
and next
you're just one more person I've hurt
to remember,
left in my chain of
avoidable destruction.
resuscitate
your flashing glances
into sounds that say
you forgive me,
but wishful thinking
is the root of heartbreak
I really don't need
another.

there are aspects
of myself
that I can be convinced
are beautiful
it is my self
as a whole
that drives me further
into loathing.

daydreams and
shallow company
(your small talk
means so much to me)

I can promise you
second hand nicotine and
so many muddy metaphors and
every ounce of poetic nonsense
you've always wished for
I can promise you
tangerines, sticky kisses
and little glances
that will swell your heart
with something that could only be
special
I can promise you
that it won't be
I can promise you
that I'll run
I can promise you
that you should take these promises
and
run faster

surprise me
with outstanding empathy
with passionate
thirsty curiosity
outstretched hands
and eye contact
that doesn't seem so
v a c a n t

take what you will
we all choose our poison(s)
we've only got time
(and ourselves) to ****,
so don't overcalculate
the moments
that we're given

can you see the future
or I suppose a future
is what I'm getting at,
but I'm asking so much more
than that
I know what you have to say
and I don't want to hear it
in the first place

self harm
can pass undetected
as simply existing

I loved the silliness
the secrets
and the penny paid thoughts

but all I dream about when sleep comes
is the thirsty selfishness
and I'm caught
between nightmares
and daydreams
in between
brutal introversion
and broken seams

tired of your consistent inconsistencies
and your forgetful debt
to false threats
of answered prayers

your stories are poetry
and my tired eyes
want your lullaby

you have the power
to allow yourself
to ask for help
to take for granted
to take some time
to take the healing pains off your mind.

Sparkling cracks
in the seam of things
yet things still seem to lack
your beautiful imperfection.
aren't there some questions
still unanswered?
taunting you to fill
those gaps with dependence
on chemicals
on fallen giants
on silly lullabies
like this one that echoes
when you dance through my mind
the absence of light
couldn't be darker
than hurtful intentions
of making me believe
in anything you can give to me
things leave us
blind to the truth.
the truth
that change is constant.

Mindless chatter
seems much less shallow
when you can shout out insecurity
and they refuse to hear
"I'll jump"
"come on, just do it, you won't fall."
you couldn't take a moment to listen?
I'll jump
I don't trust my feet
stealing my life
that I'm still reaching to regain
leaping into deep
blue
like my lips
many moments
after I tried to tell you
I'll jump
yet you won't hear what you cannot understand
please learn to respect
and accept
that I'm allowed to feel pain
your ignorance
won't fix
a situation that you're blind to
(I just though't I'd remind you)

I was awake
for 49 hours
and I told him
that I was the sun

I'm getting worse at asking for help, it happens gradually but I'm learning to see the beauty in healing. Growing pains have shown me the strength in scar tissue. I've been inside my head all too often, being isolated and isolating (two very different things, mind you).
There's some fear now, there's no denying. I do my best to not let go of hope, as to never lose it.
I grew up fast, pulling up against gravity and history. I'm learning now how to stand up straight.
Thank you, S, for granting me a safe space, and for letting me be honest with myself.
I crave meaningful goodbyes, though I don't count this as a goodbye at all.
For once I feel I can finally say "hello."
Thank you for letting me feel, and never asking me to.
I've tasted the power of my voice; you've saved and changed my life.
The only way I will repay you is to live my life with even half as much kindness and beauty as I have seen in you. You inspire me, and for that I am forever grateful.

Thank you for giving me the courage to heal.

half hearted apologies
200mg of sertraline
grapefruit (too bitter like acidic nostalgia)
concealed lust
that endings are so final
that they can still lack closure

cherry stem knots
lonely hearts
imperfect truths
melting ice (to cool my nerves)
misunderstood temptations and thoughts

stepping into balance
between the start
and end of things.
canceling the feelings
of forward motion,
though holding momentum
through tumbled emotion.
I can't help
(or maybe won't)
but feel lost and misled
given all away
only to find myself
at a starting place
in overgrown footsteps
that took away
my need to believe.

change from always saying no
to yourself
creative confidence
threat
and inspiration
feel the freedom to fail
and the independence
of saying yes

four hundred ninety four days.
forever became
an impossible promise.

my head felt cavernous
though now I doubt
that it's truly there
I grasp for what is happening
but my soul is bleeding out
I could forget to breathe
forget to let my heart beat
forget what language even means
before I could ever
will ever
forget
you

I can't blame a soul
for being soulless
I cannot keep control
on a broken conscience

sent back
flashing fear
furious invisibility
of all the things
who knew
that this would **** me

who knew?
I wasn't really empty,
until you suddenly took everything.
guilt is sifted in my gut
because I broke my promises
when you broke my trust
its daunting to **** blocked memories
with a calloused finger
muscle memory of a burn
to buried to pull back
they say you don't know what you have
'till it's gone
trampled security
pretenses of trust
crushed
with no sincerity to lean on

I am the faded moth,
attracted to the light you project,
or maybe in the end
I really am the butterfly
because those false pretenses of protection
keep me in the dark
Opposites attract
yet comprehension
of deeper senses
retains a spark.

I can't seem to get out of my head.
Frantic, demanding that
someone brings relief
and like the dreams
(that were safe in their painless blur)
no souls seem to see
a soul in me.

How disgusted I am
knotted
at the thought of simple needs.
Keeping me believing
but I need my sanity
for tainted perspective.
Concepts of
timelessness and gravity
and post life confessions
dragging judgment down
to endless inferno
(or was that above ground?)
I guess that is, perhaps,
what we're arguing for.

Believe in my sin
Or you'll burn in my hell.
Hypocrites can spit their biased rhymes
the sweetest sound of their own voice
pounding out adversity
with privilege so protected
by a sheltered sense of freedom
have you seen them?
sparks in their eyes
but no fire meets mine
like a reflection on black glass
asking for attention, recognition
but I was raised with suspicious superstition
born to distrust
disgust
and disappear.

(I'm screaming)
You told me I was being too loud.
It's silly,
to be neither seen nor heard.

(I'm hiding)
You scold me for interrupting too much.
Even that
Doesn't really seem to work.

I guess I don't want to
seem overbearing
but my senses
are blurred at the edges
and my substance
doesn't feel so substantial at all

Creeping insecurity
that those shooting stars
didn't really fall through
and my wishes
of invisibility
are fading into truth.

I am independent and sentient
and patience has never been my virtue
expectations only lead me to hurt you
because with a broken heart
my hairs raise
my eyes ablaze
and my edges sharp
so as you attempt
to clean up your mess
you cut your
pretty face
on the jagged shape
of my  e m p t i n e s s

contracting breaths
between the sentences
of those faceless giants
that surround me
without a comprehensible sound
lost
and not quite yet
found
you'll come around,
but only once I've given in
sin, skin, and cigarettes
fleeting hope
and looming regrets
in overcast limbo

fool me once
shame for life
you said you'd never hurt me
but the pain came twice

tell her that she's alone
that she deserved it
she's on her own
well I won't let you take
her voice away
she likes to ****
but you like to pray
kiss and makeup
because there is plenty else to hate
and your ignorance is out of date

your loneliness is just a phase
but hakuna matata is just a phrase
and happily ever after
is just a ghost in the wall
high, tripping, and falling
into ink
into dreams
into distant ****** up haze
of your forgiveness
which I am expected to accept
even when you took away
until there was nothing I had left
an intolerable possibility
that I should be so willing to receive
your gold paved poor intentions

pour them
into my poor eroded throat
just to be evoked
from a bottomless pit
where my insides should be

no clear beginning or end
to myself, or identity
like a blurry negative
or a softly fallen tree
keep the change
the empty promises
the debt and the punishment

but I'm breaking the mirror
and not the habits I loathe
dissociation
a celebration and emancipation
from the tunnels of my mind
winding and finding
yourself
so undone

this is a war that can't be won
without losing

hello potential
stare me down
carry your judgements
but don't make a sound
except the crack of your smile
and our feet on the pavement
beating a pulse
the night is so vacant
except the howls inside us
joining the wolves

I can feel you beside me
taking it in
please don't falter, potential
we're about to begin

keep putting off
what you anticipate
because you can't let go
of some form of hope and
jump
in
to
that
water

so murky and romanticized

feel the rush of realism
of lucidity
when you stop waiting
and start your own story

bittersweet dreams
like
that
gaping old victorian
with dusty stairwells
only swept by drifts of passing wind
calling you
with echoed longing

empathetic with
the rarely seen or heard
little soul
in the walls
occasionally tip tapping

up        above        your        bed


dancing on your head

those shooting shivers
sent from the grave
forgotten and walked on
and oh so,
******* beautiful

feel endlessly alive
like those nights that you attempt to forget

you introduced me
to a poverty like none before
it seems it's difficult to see
how deeply you're lacking
until you've been full

with such audacity
you tucked my heart away
and with such disgusting subtlety
I taste the distance as you stray

I have such torturous confliction
on whether or not I'm long gone
and I don't know what it's like
(to be here at all)
what if I never get better?
what if I'm worse than I thought?
what if it's never been real?
what if it's all that I've got?

I have always yearned
to make music
maybe
I just don't have any music to make
Simply so much to say
but no courage to converse it
in need of beats and melodies
to camouflage
the vulnerability
that I present with my words

wednesday
isolation like
that forgotten middle syllable

I'm choking on
suppressed understanding
of this slow but sturdy
change
in your contact
in our formality

I hate to admit that
I would ever want anything
to stay the same

your chest so tight
threatening
to crush the ribs within
to silence
the heart cried raw
that reminds you
what you've lost

melancholy
has this
terrible accuracy
when it anchors down
right where
you needed security
the most

the tangible enormity
of your absence
is unsettling
especially considering
you were
never here at all

Somewhere silent
We’ll wonder where the miles went
Somewhat quiet
Wanton mental dialect
Will be forgotten as it’s thought

Somewhere silent
While finding love to dissect
Somehow quiet
We’ll live with love so violent
And pray it never be forgot

You bleed out and in
These tempting sentiments
Blending into consciousness
Forgetting what is sin
Chills of the ending witching hour
The thrill of isolated power
Alone and wandering
Through barren streets
Feel your bones and your ponderings
Getting honest, losing heat.
Cobblestone streets
Calling out to restless feet
Taunting wired minds
To give in to a sleepless night
And venture into the ever-crisp air
To breathe in smoke and frozen breath
To dare to find what lingers there.

You say its anger turned inwards
I’d agree
But the words are caught in my throat
Like the sobbing yells for help
My jaw is locked down like a cage
For introspective hell

Anger turned inwards
Yeah that sounds about right
Hatred or loathing might
Be more true
So I’ve got anger turned inwards
But I still have so much left
For you

I guess it’s in your job description
Measure my mentality
Pump me up with prescriptions
I’m like Charlie ******* Bartlett
I’m your favorite emotional harlot
Give me five minutes
I’ll make you feel connected
I’ll show you my false trust
And I’ll make you regret it

It feels mechanic
Programmed medicating
When I’m still half asleep
Not conscious enough
To pay attention
To my not so subconscious questions
Asking
Who are you
To tell me
That I need to be fixed

I hold so much resentment
For the time that you spend
Surrounding me
With all the facets of help
That I don’t need
Anger turned inwards
Staining every breath
Heavy panting
Straining with this weight on my chest
Anger turned out
Guilt and blame
Overwhelming shame
Because you taught me to never give up
But there’s nothing I want more
Then to slip up
Trip up
Get so high I’ll never come down
Get so high
To get six feet underground

But then again
I got “better”
I disappeared for three months
And I can’t even remember
Why it was so hard
To stand back up
On my own

Compromise
I’ll comfort your mind
But first
I’ve got to confront my lies
See,
I wanted this
Don’t you ever think otherwise
Of course its for attention
But does that make me not ill?
All I wanted was affection
But here I am
Popping pills

Conflicted
With the concept of sickness
I’ve been so desperate for
Identity
Just to feel ******* special
So insecure and lonely
that to get it I felt
I had to purge out my mortality
Make my self unwell
I lived a lie
Until it was true
I wanted this sickness
Until it was all I knew

the irony:
killing time
ends up killing me

but hey,
it's nothing personal
it's strictly business

I lust for you
to think of me
daydream
of your scribbled greetings
of your silent longing,
your thoughts of me
(thinking of you)

thirsty
for some confession
of truth
something drastic, something new

in this stagnant springtime

colours, bright and harsh
yet they fall upon me
oh so dull
the wind avoids my skin
walking in a vacuum
so constantly numb
so ardent for
a crack in
the continuity

it subdues
any passion
even my hatred
for routine

letting me subconsciously
slip
into the nightmare
of the "american dream"
the steady pretending
this enmeshment
it infects
the very seams of
my existence

don't cry
don't cry
don't ******* cry

but be honest
stay honest
stay logical
but don't stuff your emotions
be honest
be logical
don't cry
be strong
but don't push back



just don't ******* cry

Five o'clock
Is naked
Is harsh
Is too bright in rusty eyes

Blame the night before
For the cruel punishment
Of one more day

Is it so exhausting
To exist?
Postponing final rest
To avoid ending it.
Then again
If it was final
I'd be rushing to the finish.

I think that
perhaps
I've finally grown tired
of finding new ways
to say that
simply

I am sad.

far too sober
and far too lucid
to formulate
anything worthwhile

but I'm nothing
if not stubborn

alas
it's an underrated
virtue

you are heavy
wearing the dust that has settled
on your sadness like a crown
you've grown so accustomed
to your fog
your water logged eyes
they demand an escape
yet you won't
let you
let me
lift you out

no bad habits
no habits at all
I'm safe
I'm trapped
unharmed
skin unbroken
I'm okay
but I am
not well at all

brushing sand back and forth
I wonder where your eyes rest
drinking in the possibilities
that yearn to exist
anticipation
of a rising tide
hopeless hurry
because in the end
I can't be satisfied

why do you do it, if it won't last?
it will just get destroyed in the end

well,
don't we all?

*yet we persist