i have anxiety
undiagnosed.
well that’s not true i’ve been to therapists, psychologists.
many, so many doctor appointments.
i have old medications for it, i haven’t kept up with
i don’t like the way they force my brain
to conform to the usual and to feel a certain way

sometimes it feels like my head is stuffed with an overflowing amount of crumpled paper *****
piling up crowding the available space in my frontal lobe
the things i never said, the things i should have never said,
the things that someone never said to me.
that special someone that holds hands with the prettier girl
about two feet away from me.
she’s a better fit for you. i guess
the grade that i got on my last math test but really don’t care about
because by this point i’m habituated to the sting of failure.
i sit in my room and cry by myself because my nerves feel like they are ripping apart
or maybe it’s the sensation of exploding
similar to the creation of a star, or i guess in my case,
the painful closure of a life well lived.
of a time far too stressed.

my brain feels very full while simultaneously existing almost on empty.
i wake up from a drowsy late afternoon depression nap with
my neurons firing too fast for me to catch up with and a weirdly powerful
and persevering sense of anger or maybe it’s frustration.
i feel like i’m stuck in a crevasse between the cliffs of successful and beautiful
but maybe i’ve always been here
living in the pits of my insanity stuck under the weights of my anxiety

all of these things are written on these crumpled pieces of paper
there are so many of them, i used to be in control, not anymore
the world feels as if it’s tumbling out of my hands
rolling down the hill and crushing my motivation with it
there are so many things on my mind
right now that no more would be able to fit 
in my brain, it’s overcrowded like an LA rush hour
with time speeding by, with me just sat there working from my tower.

i have reached maximum capacity
and yet i can't stop thinking things,
i can't stop saying stupid things,
i can't stop wishing things. 
i sigh, i reach up to my forehead and i swipe away remnants of exhaustion
and bend down to pick up my backpack that weighs far more than it should
with my shaky hands caused by a high intake of caffeine
that i now require just to stay awake in class
i’m tired but as i sit here avoiding responsibilities
and the anxiety that often travels along with it

i'm hoping that one day when i get to this place
of unbearable tensions in my shoulders
and stress that pulls the insanity directly from my mind
that translates to unrelenting tears falling from my eyes.
the top of my head will crank itself open
and all of these crumpled pieces of thoughts and worries
will pour out into a neat little pile
on the floor 
and disappear
at least for just a while.
that would be nice.
as my arms let go and the tension falls away along with my body
letting go of the stress and the pressures of
holding those pillars together
and fall through the sky
just so i have enough time to
take a truly deep breath.

here’s to a peaceful ending,
a crumbled paper ball fate.

No.

A simple term,
It means so little.
But yet explains a lot.
Still not heard by,
People with forcible dreams.
With these two letters,
Able to enlighten my opinion,
On the oncoming situation.
Yet the ignorance of your needs,
Portray importance over,
The simple yet powerful two lettered word.

you claim to be the sun

a lioness and goddess

born from fire and flames.


I do not doubt you.

your beliefs are your own.


yet do not be so contentious

so audacious to paint yourself

in such resplendent glory.


we both know better.


if you are built from ashes

why do you claim to burn

at the memory of me?


my ghost should not leave

scorch marks upon a goddess

of the sun.

Happiness is filtered through a long silver pump,
where it is torn apart,
then crushed together in a lump.

Sadness is poured in a giant mixing bowl,
where it is strained out,
then dropped into the black dump hole.

Anger is stacked on top,
piled in pieces,
only to be lit by a flame the size of a drop.

Love is demolished on sight,
battered and bruised,
leaving a stench of bitterness out of  spite.

The emotional dump is a place where emotions go,
when they've been let loose -
out of control.

When they've grown outside the human heart,
and reaked havoc like an art.

It's a place where emotions die in a flash,
placed next to all the world's gunk and gloop and unwanted trash.