it is a bit past 3 AM and i am waiting for you to see me.
see me, see me.

you told me to write you a poem so here it is.

i am invisible and i am waiting for you to see me.
i cannot make myself seen, i cannot make you look.
so i wait. i wait, for it is all i can do and i cannot live with the feeling of doing
nothing.
powerlessness, in its all its bitter comfort, cradles me like an old friend.

a reconnection.

right now i am putting on the record we both like and i am pretending that you and i are the only ones who have ever heard it.
in a brighter moment i might sing.
in a brighter moment you might see me.

but for now, invisible,
i dance. my feet kiss the floor and my fingers kiss these keys and i am writing you the poem you wanted and waiting, waiting, always waiting.

you may not see me but i will write as if you do.

(a.m.)

I wrote a heartfelt poem for you but it wouldn't post
I picked a pretty flower for you but it died
I bought some delicious chocolate for you but I ate it
Basically I just can't do anything for you that you deserve
And that *****

I was told once that apathy was in my blood.
Climbing like squid ink midnight black through the ocean begging for the forlorn sun.
I have seen atrocities in these veins of mine, calling to the moon for forgiveness, I have howled a hollow cry- it has made my bones crack.
There is no room in these ribs for complacence. For apathy or for those who don't protect the petals of the heart that I wear like a fruit ripe for picking.
I am delicate but I am not hollow. I am full to the brim and I will run my tongue across the dripping pearls of honey which leak from my sides when roses coated in gold ***** me with their thorns.
I am not scared of the weight I must hold to carry these onyx bones.  I am not worried about apathy. I am not worried about the way my blood will curdle when it is tainted with poison or lust or desire. I am not worried about the way that I will sound when my heart is ripped from my chest and held between calloused palms.
I have never worried about the song I will sing when I have nothing left on my lips except the shallow cry I will leave to the world- the one that says
I have loved and I will never have to be enough for you.

Scared that I'll never surface again,
I'm

Sinking

Further

Into

The

Dark

Waters

Of

My

Mind

If I had the time,
I would make a perfect life....

How do we define time....

Is it the tick of the clock
or is it moment to moment....

When the heart is aching,
time seems to slow down.....

When your happy and laughing,
time seems to go very fast....

How does one define perfect....

You could have mad money,
and still be sad....

Yet it's the humble one,
that always stays glad....

Time...
Perfect...

As one they are the value of life....
Perception, reception, direction....

Set your path....

I have tried.
I have tried to live like I really should live, I know what it is that I like.
I have lied.
I have never really tried.
I have only always wished, for trying requires courage that I don't have.
I am not lying.
I have known fear in ways it doesn't remain just a feeling:
I have felt it shooting up my spine
I have held my fingers to stop them from shaking and I have, at times, simply collapsed
Collapsed on the floor because my legs wouldn't want to carry my weight anymore.
So I have wanted, and I have tried, and I have wished for it to get better
But it only ever becomes a tad bit shade of 'fine',
And I can't compromise.
I have tried.