A picture of your dog
With the caption
"Are you doing anything this weekend?"

As trivial as it seems
No message has ever given me
More hope

I'm sitting here staring at an empty space
It's not that I don't have things to fill it with
In fact, I have an abundance of things
Thoughts, memories, hopes
But they're all jumbled together
Tangled, like poorly stored necklaces
The chains wrapped tightly around each other
Almost impossible to separate

I could take everything out
Place it all out on a table
Try to gently detach each piece of myself
The problem with that, though
Is that more than a few of those baubles and chains
Were never meant to see daylight
I don't want to reveal the tarnished and rusting metal
The cracked glass pendants
And the lockets never meant to be opened again
Some things are to stay forever
Stored away in the darkest corners of my mind
I have a box on a dusty shelf there
Where they live

I guess I should look for a flashlight
So maybe I can try to sort out the better pieces
I know there must be some treasures there
Maybe I'm just hoping I might have something good left
I don't want to face the possibility
Of finding nothing but debris
Tattered trinkets on a dusty shelf
In the back of a damaged mind

And as I try stopping the passing of time
Like grasping at sand
Slipping through my fingers
I fail to recognize the pile
Being built beneath my hands
Full of tiny fragments of life
That I forgot to live

I've been out of school for less than a week
And I'm already mostly nocturnal
I'm not sure if that has anything
To do with the fact
That it's easiest to recall you face
Or the sound of your laugh
When I can sit in darkness
My mind unmarred by the harshness
Of the sun illuminating a reality
Where you aren't here

Every time your name
Shows up on my phone
My smile stretches so wide
That maybe it could bridge
The distance between us

It seems like more and more often
Growing up
Involves seeing the people around you
Get hurt
I feel like maybe Peter Pan had the right idea

Her eyes,
Like many others,
Are the color of a turbulent sea
Her voice,
Like many others,
Is gentle, yet forceful at the same time
Her words,
Like many others,
Bring kindness and laughter to the world
Her thoughts,
Like many others,
Are full of demons that she rarely shows
Her mind,
Like many others,
Is a medley of music and poems
Her heart,
Like many others,
Sits squarely in the right place

The little things about her,
Individually,
Are nothing special
But by some act of serendipity
They have coalesced
And I am thankful every day that they did

You are so much more than a collection of adjectives
You are my best friend (and probably my soul mate)

I think it speaks volumes
That when I felt like falling apart
And you asked what was wrong
I felt the need to cover up
With a physical ailment

I've noticed that my moods
Seem to be reminiscent of a pendulum
I can never experience intense happiness
Without a swift recoil in the opposite direction
Every moment of contentment
Every second of joy
Is matched with an equal measure of guilt
I begin to dread the very things
That bring me the most happiness
I begin to regulate my moods
Never letting them deviate too much
Trying my hardest to keep an equilibrium
Trying my best to steady the pendulum
Maybe I'm avoiding the worst of the pain
But at what cost?

You asked me what I was so afraid of
And reached out your hand
An offering
As if you could possibly shield me from my fears
What am I afraid of?
I'm afraid of everything.

I'm afraid of people
And I'm afraid of being alone
I'm afraid of ordering food
And eating in public
I'm afraid of vague responses
That can be in any way construed as hostile or unhappy

I'm afraid of not living my life
I'm afraid of living

I'm afraid of calculus
And when I don't understand something on the first try

I'm afraid of unrequited love
Both given and received
I'm afraid of disappointing others
And letting down those who are counting on me
I'm afraid of love
I'm afraid of the feeling of my heart clenching in on itself
Whenever I think about you

I'm afraid of being tortured
Physically
But I consistently torture myself mentally

I'm afraid of the fact that we're hurtling through a universe
That we know nothing about
I'm afraid of the possibility that we're alone in it
Or that we're not

I'm afraid of making too much noise
Or drawing attention to myself
Taking up too much space on public transit
Of making eye contact with a stranger
And seeing myself reflected in their eyes
I'm sure they don't like what they see
Because neither do I

I'm afraid of losing
And loss
And failure
And any other synonym thereof

I'm afraid of sleeping my life away
But I'm afraid to wake up

I'm afraid of the ocean
And boats
And bridges
I'm afraid of deep water
And its depths are the best analogy for uncertainty there ever was
And maybe that's what I'm most afraid of

No.
That's not quite right is it?
What I fear most is my constant companion
Who I can only glimpse in reflective surfaces
Spitting out her constant criticism
Not enough
Never enough

She spends her days whispering in my ear
Of all the things I have to fear

Watching dust motes swirl around in beams of light
The way droplets of rain slide along the windows of my car as I drive
The reflections of streetlights on wet pavement
When flowers grow up through cracks in the sidewalk
Sleeping in late and waking up feeling whole
Rocks in the middle of a stream that are just big enough to sit on
Watching sunsets over the wetlands on my way to class
Delicate coatings of snow over trees
The sound my boots make when I walk
When my cup of tea turns out just right
Candles that burn nice and slow
When my cat rests her head on my hand and looks up at me
The smell in the air when you know Spring is coming
Wearing big sweaters and hiding my hands in the sleeves
Philosophical graffiti artists
The smell of a campfire mingling with the the forest
Walking barefoot through grass
Listening to music with my eyes closed
Watching nature reclaim abandoned buildings
Walking through the woods in October
Being awake when everyone else is sleeping
Long, warm showers
When the birds come back after the winter
Taking naps during road trips
The way that the air feels different at night

I'm falling through sheets
Of iridescent cellophane
I can't help but wonder
How they reflect so much light
In this endless darkness
They make no noise as I fall
Leaving me to wonder
Is there anything there at all?
Maybe I'm just grasping
For something beautiful
In this void
They slip through my fingers
Not hindering my decent
Only marking it's progress
Through flashes of magenta and lime
I'm falling through space
Falling through time
It's okay
I'm coming home

The weakest shade of blue
Is the color of my eyes in the dim light of my room
As I sip a lukewarm beer
Headphones crammed into my ears
Filling my head with distortion and feedback
Replacing the noise in my brain
With a more aesthetically pleasing version
I never want to see you when I'm sober
But I want you so bad

My mom says
That my room is a mess
Because I don't respect her
But honestly it's because
I don't respect myself

I think the most common lie
Is probably "I'm fine."
Two words
Truth blurred
Hiding the pain inside
Can't help but misguide
Is it for their benefit or yours?
Check the locks at your doors
Ask yourself who holds the key
"Is it them or me?"
When you say "I'm fine."
Who exactly are you trying to blind?

I stopped writing for a while

before that I stopped drawing
before that I stopped making videos
before that I stopped crocheting
before that I stopped reading
before that I stopped something else

I'm left to wonder
if I keep stopping
when will I run out of things to stop

I stopped leaving my bed if I can help it
and I stopped caring too much about it

I stopped writing for a while
but I'm trying to start again
it's been a while since I've had a start
maybe just starting is the hardest part

She runs her tongue over her purple lips
It's an almost predatory gesture
Her walk
Almost violently confident
Heels clicking
Like the cocking of a gun
Similar, but she's more dangerous

She reigns in shadows
Every night
When they coat the concrete in darkness
She returns
Heeled boots echoing in the alleyways
Weeds peeking out from cracks in the pavement
Where she had once passed

She'll pick some stray dandelions
And scatter their seeds in her garden
Beside the bones of the man
Who thought he could control her

She may have been forced into this place
But now she's in charge

People don't see her as she passes
But they can feel her
Deep in their core
She's as cold as steel
And just as strong

She rules the night
And she's a fierce ruler

A man in black clothes
Stalks a young girl
As she walks home
He's frozen in his tracks
Turned to ice
The girl reaches her home unaware

As he begins to melt onto the sidewalk
With the rising sun
Passersby comment on the intricacy of the sculpture
"Must have taken ages."
He is nothing more than a puddle by noon

As the sky turns orange
She makes the trek home
Removes her black boots
Wipes off the purple lipstick
She remembers she hasn't
Called her mother in a while
They talk about their gardens
While she boils some water for tea

you seem like the sort of person i could tell things to
that I might have never told anyone else.
how sometimes i feel like i'm drowning
and maybe that's why i'm afraid of the ocean.
how the song disorder sounds like the night
and how it makes me feel alive and dead at the same time.
i go to concerts so that the bass can keep my heart beating.
sometimes i lay awake for hours staring at my laptop
feeling numb and empty
and sometimes i wish someone would hold me until
i feel whole again.
i think i would be okay if that person were you.
you've always been so kind to me
in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable.
i don't know what to do with kindness.
maybe you could help me.
i'm not good at feeling things.
sometimes i feel nothing
and sometimes i feel everything
but my feelings for you always made sense
in a way that the others didn't.
i'm bad at talking
let's just drive.
the night air makes me feel alive and free.
i love the way the world looks lit up
and the reflections of street lamps and flickering neon shop signs
and the way their light paints our faces.
you looked at me so gently that night before you left.
i pretend to know the words that were frozen on your lips
and i go to sleep with my heart keeping time with joy division bass lines.

People seem to think
That I spend most of my time
Alone
But that isn't quite true
I have a constant companion
In the form of crippling self doubt
In guilt, anxiety, and a hollow resignation

People seem to think
That I spend most of my time
Alone
If only that were the case.

I always thought that that orange sweatshirt you wear so much
Was like a beacon that would always guide me to you
Until today when I needed to see you the most
And suddenly everyone was wearing orange
And the color started hurting my eyes
And eventually I just drove away into the rain
And everything turned grey
"It's fine," I tell myself
Grey is just as good a color as any

it's noon and I'm already drunk
wandering around atlanta because I've misplaced my wallet
I need my id to prove I'm legal
I hate to spend 10 dollars on a beer
so we chug tall boys in a parking garage thinking,
"how did we get here?"
and nothing feels as good as the approximate size and shape
of a can in my hand
gripping it in the front row with the same intensity
as castaway gripping a raft
lifeline made of aluminum
I'm coughing between sips
there is water in my lungs
I was always afraid of drowning
there's a certain desperation in the way
that I'm trying to pretend I'm comfortable in my own skin
and this can is selling my preferred brand of serenity
"I want to be drunk for this"
in the same way
"I want to be comfortable for this"
I'd tell you it's healthy
but that'd be a lie
but you know what?
I drink cheap beer
so what
*******

I'm becoming addicted to words
And I think to myself,
"At least it's not ******."
But sometimes I think words
Can be just as dangerous

I've written so many poems
About the way you devastate me
As if you were a hurricane
And I the unsuspecting shoreline
I haven't written enough
About you

There's a certain poetry
In the way you speak
That I could never duplicate
And I could liken your smile
To something that would hang in a gallery
But I won't
There may come a day
When the sound of your laugh
Won't resonate inside me
But today is not that day
Your presence is almost lunar
Commanding me like the ocean
The corners of my mouth
Stretch skywards with the waves
You radiate warmth
In waves of gold and amber
I thought you were the moon
But perhaps you're like the sun

Maybe I don't write about you more
Because it's an impossible feat

I like songs with rough edges
   Ones that sound like they were created
in the dusty corners of someone’s garage
    Songs that were recorded with ancient
                                  and ailing equipment
          That play back fuzzy and distorted
            Songs that are raw and unfinished
             Songs with unharnessed emotion

They aren’t mellow or soothing
They offend with every beat
They have corners and sharp spines
They cut and tear with each chord

                    I like songs with rough edges
Because they can pierce through my skin
                           My shields are powerless
       All defenses are rendered ineffective
                                          I am left exposed

I like songs with rough edges
Because they force me to feel
        The things I had locked out
        The things I have been so afraid of letting in
        The things that remind me that I'm only human


                   I like songs with rough edges

                                                         That match my own

My life is consistently out of balance
I don't manage my time well
I'm either doing a million things
Or nothing at all
I don't manage my social life well
I'm either seeing everyone
Or no one at all
I don't manage my aspirations well
I either have dozens of dreams
Or none at all

And I think the worst of it
Is that I don't manage my emotions well
I'm either feeling everything
Or nothing at all
And this constant shift
Between all or nothing
Is disorienting in the most horrible way

I feel so heavy.
Like an anchor tossed to sea.
No. Actually. Not quite.
An anchor knows its purpose.
If there's lead in my chest
It's there on accident.
Poisoning my bloodstream
And,
Soon,
The ocean
As I sink to an unknown destination.