I turned around and saw a child struggling
and I tell him to look up
I cup his face and tell him
see where he is now

How can I ever be strong
When I know there is this
Incurable weakness writhing
Within me?
Every time, I repeat my mistakes
Because I am too weak to say no.
Every time, I miss opportunities
Because I am too weak to say yes.
Every time, I fall into self-pity
Because I am too weak to make myself
Better.
I can see myself
Stronger, improved, worthier
But I cannot remain on the path to
Success
For my childish weakness trips me
And drags me down
And I am too weak to fight off my own
Weakness.

How can I ever be good
When there is so much bad
Swirling within
And strangling me?
I cannot suppress the evil and twisted
Thoughts that sprout from my mind.
I cannot help but take delight in them,
Somehow find pleasure in their utter
Despicableness.
And I cannot help but find a sour pride
In possessing such horrible thoughts,
As if it makes me special.

How can I ever be me
When I am completely influenced
By the people around me?
I am a collage of mirrored traits
And characteristics
Adopted from friends and family.
All my aspirations of personhood
Are tainted by society’s ideals.
Nothing is truly mine.
Nothing is truly original.
I am trapped in a never-ending cycle
Of give and take,
Repeat and release.

How can I ever be happy
When I know death awaits me?
And while I live on this Earth,
I am merely a meat suit,
Imitating the ignorant beings around me
While weakness and evil
Manifest within my body.
Maybe death is not such a bad thing.
It is escape from myself,
My poisoned, tainted being,
My sad excuse of a life
Without hope of redemption,
For all humans are the same:
Wicked little beings hidden behind smiles
And good intentions.

Running,

running away from the present moment in time
because you know the minute your feet
stop pounding the dirt below you
you have succumbed to the belief
that the moment snapping at your heels
is the last moment you will ever have.

Fear,

fear is the air you breathe, the blood
pumping through your veins, pulsating
at your temples, the only thing that
is keeping you alive. Fear that fear
is only temporary, a fleeting spark,
a false and empty hope.

Numb,

numb as your mind has disconnected itself
from your body, has shed its shield of thought
and is now an open soar of raw and exposed emotion.
but as long you keep running, keep
moving, you manage to avoid the eminent truth
that you are only prolonging the inevitable.

But until then,

you fly with the quickness of panic and denial,
because there is no escape but ultimate surrender.

i killed flowers for you
(they died)
i killed daisies
(to be specific)
you told me you loved me
(you lied)
i saw you picking out roses
i thought they were for me
(i was ecstatic)
you gave them to someone else
(i died)

I'm escaping this world
one step at a time
but all I need first
is a partner in crime

j.h.

me.


she doesn't like how I look at others
or how my lips pronounce anyone else's name
she doesn't like how 'everyone wants me' like she does
she doesn't like my style
she doesn't like my sincerity

my eyes, lips, and nose?
oh, of course she doesn't like that.

nor do i

I don't like how I look at others
I don't like how I pronounce anyone's name other than hers
I don't like how she doesn't want me
I don't like my style
I don't like my 'sincerity'

my eyes, lips, nose?
yuck.

but I'm honestly starting to wonder

which one of us is in denial.