Why does a screen feel less than me when it’s supposed to be state of the art, high tech, and without fault.

People will say that it’s just getting old, and worn out, so why won’t my heart do the same..

Hey, I like you, do you like me? No, that’s fine, that’s cool I’ll go cry myself to sleep at night because unlike internet explorer I don’t just keep asking for you to accept me.

I simply wish that I could be less weak, less pathetic, less useless than everything and everyone else, I just wish to not feel this sensitivity of my nerves letting my eyes drain and my heart to turn into a glass pane that someone can smash open, and for those lumps in my throat to just go down and not reappear as I struggle to tell you how I feel.

I wish to be helpful, I wish to be useful, and I want to make you happy every way possible.

But my weakening heart does not know how to tell you the truth that I’m holding within my lungs as the air rots away.

I no longer wish to feel pain.

****, the idea of a future
**** the past, and **** now
In this stupid present.

I've had enough of being beaten and ****** over by everyone.
Now it's my turn.

i'm different
they say
unknown, foreign, alienated, that's how i feel to them

those people, them, they, all of those whos eyes judge throughly without remorse,
i search for another,
                                   just
                                          like
                                                  me

When it comes to writing down your thoughts, as a young poet does
You're told where to start,
from your heart,
from your head,
or just some bottled up words instead.

Look to the sky and describe it's beauty!
being a poet is easy you see!
Take what you love with a firm grip and spill a little onto a page or screen, hold your values high, but hold your poems about them higher.

never keep your words inside young poet, no matter how dark they may be, or how cliche they are.

Write.

Stop, whispering and saying those invisible words,
Stop following me with those silent steps
Stop looking at me with those judgemental glass eyes,
Stop making me feel all these emotions inside
Stop making me cry on my bed nearly every night.
Stop me from hearing these things in my head over and over again
Stop me from seeing these people in my head over and over again
Stop.
Please just. Stop.

It will never stop will it..

Swallowing pills
                            again
                         ­              &
                                           again
Trying my best to get high again on the feeling, drugging myself up to remember the feeling of your lips, your warm touch, and inhale your deodorant, that succulent scent.

I want to be sleepless, and think in the night. And be happy, or sad, either one works
But I guess I just want to remember I’m alive

Happy,
             Sad,
                     Nostalgia that drains me, happy memories turning into sour nightly thoughts.

I think of the dark night sky, and I thought there was once stars in your eyes, yes, maybe.

You made me higher than I’d ever been, and I miss you my dear dear happy pill