You're a ****
Most times I dig you out of the earth
The dirt gets under my fingernails, my heart beats fast because I dont want anyone to see-
And to think I'm a murderer.
But when I'm weak,
I water you
I pretend you're not there but I'll watch you out of the corner of my eye
Are you growing?
Is the sun treating you we-
I'll ruin myself. Stop asking questions, stop giving attention.
I pluck you out again.
But you always come back.
I've planted other seeds.
I've gone months without looking at you.
I don't love you.
Stop filling my head and choking my tiny thoughts.
I'm sick of you.
My thoughts are dangerous
I am the pilot of the plane
But I fancy the idea of plummeting to the earth in a beautiful ball of fire
Romantic, I think
Stunning, I think
Breathtaking, I think
But the only beautiful part about it is the falling
What of the melted flesh, burning hair
Fragmented remains of something perfectly wonderful
I didn't need to ruin
My thoughts shouldn't be dangerous like this, but they are
I wish there was a bar
Where you could pay other people to drink your problems
When I get bored
I dip my toes in pirhana-infested lakes
I walk through snow caves where knives hang instead of icicles
I reach my hands into a sky filled with nuclear gas and breathe deeply
When I get bored
And review my life like a *** tape you feel guilty for watching but you can't help it because you're mesmerized by all your failures
I make a resolution to get clean, I scrub the stains from the bathtub with toxic chemicals until my head swirls from the fumes
I stumble and stutter
I can barely get myself to stand up--
When I get bored,
I think of suicide.
I'll go under the knife
Operate on myself
Split my head open with the toothpicks I used to poke at leftover failures that weren't there
I'll take my own brains out of my head with my hands
Ask the doctor for a scalpel
And maybe a friend
Humans weren't always like this, you know
Maybe there was a time when the things we were most afraid of were outside of our heads, maybe there were enclosures besides our own ribcage we never wanted to be trapped in
I feel a mini version of myself
Pounding against the glass of my forehead
Begging to be let out
The key is around here somewhere, maybe
But I can't be too sure because at some point being stuck in my own head was all I ever wanted.
Let me out.
I breathe here and there
The rest of the time I feel lifeless
There is nothing in my body worth salvaging
I could call a suicide hotline and ask them why I would ever want to live
And they wouldn't know what to say
The world would be more or less the same without me
Why do I plunge daggers into my own legs and then sit on the rocks by the trail to mourn my fate
I could have been so much more
More what, you ask
And the truth is I don't know
Maybe I am a paper cup in a cupboard of crystal glasses and beautiful things
Maybe I'm the ashes after the rare and beautiful light of the fire has faded
How am I supposed to know what I am?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
But the beholder is broken because the beholder is me.
Maybe one day I will gather my postcard thoughts and have a thesis on why people hate, and why my face twists into ugly grimaces when I think about the bad in the world
I wish the good had as powerful an effect as the bad, and maybe it does but the good might not occur as often.
I don't really have a way to end this,
Even though I want to.
And the lines above could refer to my life, this poem, these tragedies.
I was the kind of grime that made you hesitate before you put your foot into the shower
You watched the water hit against me as I refused to move.
You stepped into the shower, anyway
And I know you regretted it immediately because you ignored me
It was easier to pretend I didn't exist, pretend that I wasn't a mess that needed cleaning
When you would step out of the shower and the water threatened to suffocate me
I would drink it
I let it feed me and I grew stronger
You couldn't tell
But you stand in the same place every time you shower
And with each shower I grew closer and closer to you
I wondered why you never acknowledged how well I was doing
You were gone for some time each day.
I don't know where you went, but I heard your shiny black shoes against the bathroom tile as you brushed your teeth and hummed a song by the Killers
Somebody told me you had a boyfriend who looked like a girlfriend--
I loved hearing the music you made
You made me want to be more than what I was
I couldn't reach beyond the edges of the shower, for without water, I would be terribly dry and probably die.
I would entertain myself in the hours you were away. I counted the time it took for the water to dry. I would choose a droplet from the shower door and watch it race the others, hoping it would win. But my favorite time of day was that 15 minute shower. I lived for that, you know.
I tried to relay feelings I didn't know I had
But you never said a word.
So I let you scrub me away
Out of your clean, white shower.
I awake in an empty cage
My nest is a pile of aspirations
I see people in fancy suits on the street
Dropping their dreams as they go
I gather them in an old trash bag
And the ladies with their short skirts and fancy shoes look down on me (mostly because I'm short, and partly because I am not like them)
Because once I scrub those abandon aspirations, iron the wrinkles out, and take a closer look I find that their hopes weren't worth throwing away
There was so much life left in them
And I know that's why the world is empty
Why the world is growing dark
For without the light a dream can spark
The demons can come to play and take your heart.