i haven't said two words
since i arrived back home.

i told her through my silence
that i was failing her and
myself.

she can't hear my thoughts
but they sneak into her head
and she is aware of what
i want to say

tomorrow i will not feel much different.

alienation is only the beginning
of a long list of grievances i face:

poor decisions
poor judgement
a more than momentary
lapse in happiness.

memories pour in through
my nose and ears,
triggering reactions I'd care
not to have.

i am filled to the brim with panic.
stop. breathe. stop--

the other night i cried myself to sleep.
heavy, heaving sobs. stop.
heavy, heaving sorrow. again.

when it is all over
simultaneous emptiness
is paired with intense feeling

but i am not sure of what.

I’ll continue to be distracted by my self,
shifting glances towards the door
window, cars

that almost wreck into
horrific could’ve-beens.

what you are
is more than every speculation
of the rubberneckers.

it’s been six days
since I saw your face
that quivered with fear.

Or was it embarrassment
that vigorously shook your jaw?

the mortification, I, too, once felt
sliding down closet walls, splintering
into millions of fragmented emotions.

don’t shatter your jaw with the pulsations
that come from the other you.
the you that sends ugly messages
from the depths of your skull.

distract yourself with each and every
fall in the cadence of my voice
that collapse like water over boulders,
while their quiet hum beckons ugly messages
from the depths of my skull.

a little water churned by acids:
internal stomach sounds

jaw clicks mash
strawberry ice.
repetition of noises
fading into never

mind the **** in the wall.
brick pieces falling—
one for every two moments
of hushed time—

tiny little whispers
chronicling each and every
blunder

there is a void—
silence where your
voice should ring

the reflection of street in window
and the smell of red
meat, remind me: not
everything is idyllic

red velvet seats
itch my skin
while they pass
murmuring

voices harass my ears

to what do I owe
the pleasure of your company?
the empty vase—
        this cup
               full of coffee

the mood, set by cheap christmas lights,
is somber.
the sun will rise soon, saying goodbye
to another sleepless night filled with
half-hearted attempts at productivity.

words blare into ears through tiny buds and wires.
the darkness, now, feels permanent.
this is the way i like it: dark
and somber.

when the sun rises obligations and responsibilities resume.
apathy consumes me
fills me to the core.

for now, out the window, little dots of light illuminate
few details in the blackness.
only outlines of leafless trees are seen
highlighted by squares of brightness from windows.

i prefer the way the darkness feels
it is not unfriendly as it wraps me up
in its blanket of indigo

lovingly, it caresses me,
holding me tight
as I sit, gazing outside.

the mood, set by cheap christmas lights,
is confused.
what i want is undeterminable.
but, in the dark it does not matter.

daylight comes soon
and with it
all of my nightmares.

today is for
grieving and
disbelief

today is for
looking around rooms
filled with teary eyes
understanding that we feel
together

yet,
we feel differently.
time is what heals
and even time can't heal
everything

I haven't felt so lost

(in some time)

it will get better

I am
so tired and full
of doubt--
the crippling kind of doubt
that ***** up everything in your head.

all there is left is mush
all there is left is the regrets
the "I won't do this."
the "I can't do this."

the optimistic me of the past
has long since left the picture.
she ran very far away
and I can't find her.

I am not sure I want to.

I am
so tired of being
forgotten.
I am so
tired of being
lost and
confused and
dazed.

I am jaded now and
there is no pleasure left
and I have no courage--

I hope no one every finds the other me
because if they do she will be so scared
of the her that I have become.