Before I met you I could breathe on my own
Yet now, everytime you look away
My throat starts to close
And my breath is trapped in my lungs

Before I met you I could stand on my own two feet
Yet now, everytime you leave me
My spine begins to crumble
And I end up sprawled across my bedroom floor

Before I met you I felt ok for the first time in my life
Yet now, everytime you ignore me
My heart longs to stop beating
And I wish I could go back to a time when you weren't the only thing on my mind

Between us there's this ticking bomb
As my insides are set on fire
And I choke on all these words
The tension is so suffocating
I feel like Im being buried alive.
My world has turned apocolyptic
Each and everyday is a fight to survive
While you just stand there...
A glazed over gaze...
Unaware of what you have done...
Or maybe just oblivious by choice....
But I can feel the timer running out
And I swear to god
That if I become a casualty,
If I am caught in the blast zone
I'm taking you down with me.

I could write love poems for days
Yet not once have I been in love
(With someone else that is)
I could write a book of sonnets
With no one to recite them to
(Except to myself of course)
I can preach about the danger in our love
And the joys in our heartache
Because I am a Narcissist who hates myself
I am an utmost contradiction
An antithesis, an oxymoron
(or maybe just a ***** full stop)
Either way I have loved myself
The way the moon loved the sun
And yet I've destroyed myself
The way Mt Visuvius destroyed pompeii
Relentless, and still gentle,
A beautifully tragic mess.
Self love turns to self hate
With the flip of a switch of my bedroom lights
Light turns to dark
And I turn into my own worst nightmare
Becoming my own demons
And when morning comes
And I'm so bloodied and bruised,
Ill nurse my broken body tenderly
Reviving my former self
I'll look in the mirror and see
The only friend, the only lover, the only person
That has ever stayed
And i'll remember why I love who I am
And how I am strong,
Stronger than my demons,
Than my own thoughts ,
And stronger than myself.

this isn’t going to make sense
cause it’s not supposed to
and if I’m being honest
this isn’t for you
it’s not even for me

I’m stuck
I’m trapped
I’m lost
I’m every other word that describes people who feel at a dead end

I’m typing on a ****** phone
That’s connected to a ****** connection
That could possibly be a metaphor for my life

I’m writing
Because I don’t know what else to do

I’m writing
Cause that’s what they told me to do

But they also told me that what I think isn’t always true
That I’m special and I just don’t see it

But that’s the thing
I don’t see it

And if I don’t see it then why should it matter if anyone else does

And if I’m thinking something why should it matter if it’s true

What matters is that it’s in my head
What matters is that it’s always there

But here I am
Stuck in the same place
Back to square one
No progress made
The same questions, whether true or not

Will I amount to anything?
Do I really help?
Am I really worthwhile?
Do you actually care?

I see these people
When I’m online
They smile and post
They edit and pose

I can’t help but wonder

Do you really smile, or do you just do it to look happy like me?
Do you really feel happy, or are you trying to lie like me?
Do you understand what I feel?

Or is it just me?

I’m not trying to be selfish
I don’t want a lot
I just want to be happy
And I want others to be happy with me
But neither is happening

So instead there’s a poem
That doesn’t even ryhme
That makes no sense
  I’ll try harder

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't

Sunday morning coffee
Old books and ***** snow
I don't believe in angels
I don't believe in angels
I don't believe in faith
Because roses can be mistaken for weeds
And the devil can be mistaken for human
But honey, last night I watched while heavens collided in your eyes