He likes to write poems
I think his greatest secret is
He wants poems written in his honor
To be forever preserved in sacred pages of letter and ink
He loves to write poetry
But his poems can not capture
His own beauty
Ink covered fingers or t-shirts with coffee stains
He smells like beach waves and vanilla pine
The way his hair falls in his face
And the pretty boy eyes he hides behind bluelight glasses
He likes to make the moon his muse
He would marry the sound of his own voice-
Projecting his spoken word or monologue across a crowded nighttime space
Nobody knows
This sweet barista boy
Has broken every heart
That every loved him

Cute barista boys are not to be trusted
But they sure as hell will give your heart all the butterflies of springtime gardens
And he will treat you like God
Before tossing you aside

I can’t be 19.
It’s just not possible
I can’t be
Nineteen-
What the ****?
How did I get here?
Where the **** are all the days go
Where the ****.
Who said
Who decided-
It was me that was to take the ******* family curse
It’s been passed down through all our white ****** medieval ancestors
Mental illness
Physical pains
All in the head
All in the body
All in the Spirit
I am all but my veins and I am all but
The controller
I feel
Helpless.

I can't be nineteen...
There’s no ******* way
It’s 10:34pm
There’s no ******* way
I’m going to
Watch
Seconds
Dis a pear
Until
No thing
I S
l e f t

I’m ******* 19.
In two hours.
Two Hours
nineteen....

i can’t turn nineteen
i just don’t believe i’ll make it...

ive never ******* been eighteen
or if i was i don’t remember...

How the **** am I supposed to survive another ******* year.

Action and reaction
Closing blinds and removing clothes
Energy engaged in creating synergy
Static electricity between-
Two bodies-
One soul to fuse
Forevermore

He looks like god
He is my god
Does he know it
The way I absolutely obsess over him
He is everything to me
I am so ******* attached
His claws are in my back and they dig into my stomach
I can feel him diving deeper deeper
Till he surfaces again
Coming up for air through the front of my rib cage
I cannot escape
And if I did
Well
I’m already dead
I could never be accepted
Anywhere else

I think I might be addicted to you
I was never in love
Only addicted to the feeling
Lusting after the highs
Crashing at the sight of the bottom
Yearning for any reason to hold on
Yearning for any reason to get back on
Riding the highs and lows
Buckling in on your rollercoaster of a romance
I will never stop seeking
What I had with you
I will never stop running
Back to you
Screaming so loud and banging on the gates
Let me ride!!!
I want to Feel Again
Let me ride
One last time

Addiction.
It’s not like love at all.
So what does love feel like?
I wonder...

Recently
I stopped taking the meds
Recently
I’ve begun to think
Life has feeling
Again
But it isn’t in a good way
Nights I would’ve spent knocked out cold-
I now spend crying
Alone and awake
Sleep gone
Love gone
Emptiness is a long lost friend
But she is one
I knew I must wave goodbye to
Forevermore

Recently
I realized
It is better to feel
Than have nothing at all

I’m going to pretend it’s improvement

If you’ve ever wondered:
The mind of a suicidal teen is not always
Empty.
Sometimes
It is so full andicantchangeanythingsoitryto
Release
But the release is usually red and ****** and messy and painful
I was told not to keep using this
‘Coping mechanism’
But it works
And it has worked for years

Why should I stop associating with the only friend who has ever looked death in the face
Glaring eyes of ******* steel
Reality on its edge
It brings me back
And it has yet to be beat by the violent voices

That’s more than I can say for the rest of the ‘coping mechanisms’ I have

Self harm.
That’s my friend’s name.
She has stood by me.
reminding me again and again-
YOU ARE ALIVE
FIGHT TILL YOU ******* DROP