I never had the privilege to know you well enough,
I never had a chance to meet you in person,
But I know you well enough,
To know that you've changed the lives of millions.

It takes real talent,
To be able to touch and alter,
The deepest, darkest,
Corners of the human mind.

Yet,
It's something you did almost effortlessly,
You showed us the power of the pen,
And the paper.

You may have left us,
But you will never be forgotten,
This is a promise.

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,

One can feel okay
And at the same time
Feel trapped
Lost in the woods
Or up high in the clouds
Cumulonimbus demons
Pouring blood into the streets
Soaked up and dried out
Are you still okay?
A smile means many things
Happiness
Excitement
Agony
As long as you can lie.
It’s hard to understand
How it feels to drown
Drown in sadness because
We have different shoe sizes.

i can fix anyone except me
bring me your problems
i can put them to sleep
its nothing special i just say what i see
you see it too or you wouldnt be talking to me
its just a form of devils advocacy
i see your demons and i speak their language fluently
let them talk through me
occam would approve
as deeply incised insight like mine
is built on a life in ruin

i can no longer distinguish pain from pleasure;
abuse from affection; contusions from caresses.
embraces could be delivered in tightly-clenched fists;
words of affirmation in abasement; trust in forced hands.
i can't tell the difference between love and hurt;
dark bruises and soft kisses; belittlement and support.

all i am familiar with now is the aftermath -
the tears, the marks, the aches;
hot showers soothing stinging skin, shaky knees and trembling hands;
the nauseating guilt; encapsulating, overwhelming fear

and the sickening inability to just walk away.