Some days, I wake up flighty and itchy.

Crawling out of my skin and jumping at every last inhale and exhale. 

Crying at every last brush of my fingers on my scars.

Whimpering at having to be surrounded by a writhing mass of people.



These are the days when I’m most reminded of you.

Reminded of how you used to love me.

Reminded of how you used to hold me.

Reminded that you don’t care about me anymore.



These are the days when I wish I could still talk to you.

That you would still care about what I had to say.

I would probably ask you to hand me a scalpel and some scissors and the rubbing alcohol,
 because I need to cut you and your scar tissue permanently away from my heart. 

And even on these days I remember that you would have looked at me in anger and pity for saying such things (i.e. self-harm)



But these are also the days when I want to cut all of my emotions out.

Slice them away from my veins word by word.

Watch apathetically as I bleed the letters out.

All of these words and letters we have assigned to emotions, to try to describe the uncontrollable reactions we have in life.

Anger, Betrayal, Compassion, Exhaustion, Frustration, Guilt, Happiness, Indifference, Jealousy, Kindness, Love, Morbidity, Nervousness, Oppression, Peace, Remorse, Spite, Tranquility, Uncertainty, Vexation, and Yearning.
For, surely, it would be easier to be numb, than to go through all of these and many, many more?



To go through the long, unending cycles of good weeks, good months, and then bad days.

Sure, they’re less frequent than they used to be.
Sure, they’re few and far between.
Sure, it’s only 24 to 48 hours.

Sure, the medication quells the panic attacks and violent mood swings and poisonous thoughts.


But that just makes them worse when they surface.

Makes the paranoia worse.

Makes the anxiety worse.

Makes the self-abuse worse.

Makes me worse. 



On these days I remember,
That you ran away from me because I’m broken
,
and you aren’t a handy man capable of fixing me.

I can spend all of my time loving you, 
fixing you,
singing to you, worshiping you,
And in the end you cannot give these things back.


You aren’t perfect.
You aren’t chained to me.
You didn’t even want to claim me.
And after all, on these days,
Everything is my fault anyways.



Some days, 

The days when I wake up,
Begging to be locked in a sanitarium,
Sobbing and biting and kicking and screaming,
I’m reminded that you,
And no one else,
Will ever love me.

You’ve paid for somewhere pretty to smoke
yet not realised that your decorated,
thin cold icing and sweet to taste, lips
will be ruined from every second cigarette ****.

But I forgive you
because your eyes are olive,
tried and tested and true.

Angels and Demons
Whispering on your shoulders.
My shoulders lay bare.

The answers we find
Shall never be as grand
As the answers we seek.

I stand on the edge of a cliff up high in
The Heavens, surrounded by thick, gray
Clouds, and I’m blinded by the dense fog.

I feel myself being levitated higher into the
Heavens and thrown by an Evil Force, and I
Tumble through the endless darkness and

I land on a boat braving the tides of indecisions
And fear of the past, present, and future, and
I am tossed violently by the hopes, dreams,

And expectations. I paddle deeper into the
Endless ocean with neither an oar nor a sail
And the tides pulls me under and I gasp for

Breathe as I struggle to keep my head above
The water. I become more overwhelmed with
Every crashing wave and my boat fades away

Into the horizon and the fog grows thicker
Until I’m entirely blinded by all the “what ifs”
And the “maybes”, and suffocated by all that

“Could’ve”, “should’ve”, and “would’ve”.
I wait for a light to break through the dense
Fog, calm the tides, and to carry me back to

Where it all began. I pray to whoever will
Listen so I can be saved from this endless
Storm. With every tick and tock of the clock,

I grow more anxious and I begin to sweat.
I wonder if this is reality or if I am dreaming so
I open my eyes and I’m free falling through

The endless funnel of ominous, gray clouds
And my eyes grow bigger as I realize that this
Is not a dream but rather a nightmare that

I cannot escape not matter how hard I try.
It’s a monstrous, endless nightmare that
Has taken control of my mind and my life

And the worst part is: it’s all in my mind.

We were misfits
the neglected *******
of a backwards world
that rejected us
not because we were sick
demented or dangerous
but because we didn't prescribe
to a preconceived notion
of what a functioning citizen was.

Not rotten enough to spoil
behind the bars of a prison
just competent enough
to work menial jobs
and drown our sorrows
at the corner pub.

We swallowed this hard truth
the same way we drank our shots
with no chaser
and at times it burnt
maybe even made us tear up
but we never let it beat us
(too strong for that)

We were beautiful
resilient beasts
that could carry the weight
of the world upon our shoulders
and it was heavy
but we would tell ourselves
"doesn't every world need an atlas?"
so we went on holding up the sky
when no one asked it of us.