Which means I've hit a bottom.

I just need to tell this to someone:

I can't do it with the fatigue.

I can't. I just can't.

I'm so ******* ******* myself that if I loose my energy, I loose my grip. I'm done after that. I can't do it with the fatigue.

I'm going against the doctor's orders, but I think that's okay. I'm scared, **** it! I'm scared about a lot of things, and most of all I'm scared of depression. I'm so terrified of it. It scares me.

So tomorrow I'm going back to my 40. Back to my 40. Back to my 40.

And it'll be fine.

And I know one day,
I'll look into her eyes and say,
"I love you"
With body language, with touch,
When the way she laughs becomes too much.

Fingertips like felt rolling over
Stitched feelings of brokenness,
Diamond eyes catch the unraveling
Of confusion into wholesomeness,

I'm mended, I'm alive, and goddamit
I'm swollen with #pride

Blue and pinched, blue and finished
My great escape from warm knuckles brushing
And passioned fists clenching
Was drawn up, sketched and written,
A thousand goodbyes swarmed in my lungs.

But the watering whites welled for the first time,
Cracking your marble silence
and spilling consequences left and right.
My plan screeched, I stopped dead in my tracks.

And I thought,

Even if this ******* hurts
I oughta stay and stick this one out.

I never realized how intimate the thrum of music is through a pair of cheap, distorted, BIC headphones. Outside of the drum, the world will peter through crooks and cracks to listen in on whatever is allowed.

That must be why I never noticed how in love I was with this song.
I never knew how to feel until it cornered me,
a wide-eyed listener,
into a vacuum of noises and floating words where just the two of us lingered,
cupped my face so passionately that I can still feel the red etchings burning on my cheek,
and warmly told me what truly felt right.
I hadn't realized that I wasnt listening before.
I think it left an imprint on my soul.


The chorus sang with thousands of tongues
like an ensemble of angels holding small flames in a dark night,
waving with same sentiment that those do at a vigil.
The beautiful clatter was louder than it had ever been before,
yet somehow,
still too quiet for someone a few feet away from me to hear.


And then I looked at you.


And the shallow noises of the world were nothing more than a dull, numb throb.
We -
in this unspoken singularness
- locked eyes for a moment.
Yours widened. I'm sure mine did too.
Goosebumps cascaded down my spine like the fierce tides of a messy waterfall.

Thousands of ideas fired through my mind of what would happen if you and I truly - really actually - had followed through and built a future together.
My synapses roared with desire.
My heart howled,
Stroking the tinder of a waning want that was now rapidly reawakening.
And I, the victim to these chemical emotions, was forced to look at something that was so right but yet, wasn't real.

And as the chorus paraded on like the pulse that was thudding violently beneath my skin, I realized that it was telling me how I really felt all along.

I love you so

It told me what I was feeling before I even knew it.

I love you so

That at the end of the night, you are the last person I want to talk to.

I love you so

That in my dreams, you always find a way to steal the performance.

I love you so

And that I actually am in love with you.

I love you so

My cynicism for what had transpired between us was suddenly nothing more than a passing yellow light, holding together the long silence between us like one holds their breath underwater.
I felt like I was the runner at the Olympics, and someone was telling me to steal the never-ending fire and run as far away as I could with it.
I really wanted to.
I still really do.

I must add, for the sake of conversation, that being alone with you feels kinda wrong.
It feels obtrusive, and it feels as though what shred of innocence it once contained has now been burned with reckless abandon.
It's what keeps me from talking with you until sunrise like before. It's something we knew would happen.
It's a little awkward.

However, it is right. This is not an opinion, it is a fact. You challenge me to grow. You change my mind everytime. I see what you're meant for. I see what you're meant to be. Us together is more right than anything else I've ever known, I'm sure of it.

But all day dreams aside,

The moment I admit that this interaction had any effect on me - that it was leaving my heart squealing in my stomach, more so - is the moment I loose face and everything that I worked for is lost. And I can't do that. I don't know where you are. I can't do that. I can't get hurt.

I love you so

I am in love with you, and I just wanted you to know.

I love you so

Please don't be the one that got away.

Pretty boy, pretty girl -
Big **** and big ol' brown eyes -
Somewhere between the moon,
The pink twisted clouds,
And the slow setting sun.

"Tell me how to feel about you now -
Let me know!

Do I suffocate or

Let You Go?"

My cat died and from there it only got worse.
I keep doing the things I said I wouldn't do,
Like listen to sad songs
And think about you.

I Want You To Meet My Cat.

I Take More Pictures Of Myself Smiling Because Of You.

Also I Told My Mom About You, So It's Basically Official Now.

I Know I Orbit You A Lot Sometimes I Just Can't Stop.

Something About Looking Into Your Eyes Is Different Now.

Looking At You Makes Me Think That Love Is Underrated.

When have I been so ruled by want,
When have I been so waned by desire?

I can only imagine that listening to you breathe
Is like watching the Pope discuss theology.
You do everything so well.

You were sitting there,
Golden like a goddess,
With your eyes wagging lazily
Between the clutter and clatter of
Four jagged edges that made up
One sticky bartop.

The piano bounced in heavy thumps and steps
Like six inch heels
On a graceless girl
Who is dragged through the streets
Only by the sweet bait
Of a lover's giggle
To a hotel room that feels
A lot like home.

Your hands and face and eyes
Are pink as they pick through the pile,
Slotting in and out of Coach and Lucky
For a little black dress.
The thinning hallway smells like burnt cigarettes
And used condoms.

Arms folded like laundry,
Hair falling like linen,
I can smell the Coco and pushed out ahs
Fogging up my sight, dizzying and sultry,
As you dive beneath what feels like a thousand white sheets.
Sticky, wire-lashes sink
Under mountain-high, colored-cotton threads.

Your eyes are the glow of a casino.
You look right at me,
And I've won the lottery.

The fever blazes on -
I must be somewhat masochistic or something
Because I'm so **** in love with making a fool
Of myself.

Hollywood wails on, naked and lonely without us.

I see a lot there in the future -

I see so much it hurts sometimes.

I wanna listen to you talk all night long

I know I made an *** of myself
And I know I did ****** things

But I know I'm not a ****** person
I refuse to believe that.

Maybe I'm being prideful or whatever,
I don't care.

I'm not a ****** person.
I don't want to believe that ever again.

I claim to have changed since meeting you

In some ways, I think it's really good.
I have the courage to be myself again.
I haven't felt that way since I was 5 years old.
I think it's kinda beautiful.

But in other ways, it's also pretty bad.
I can't have you, so I take what I can from others to fill that up.
It's a little selfish, and I think I might be hurting people.
I think it's sort of gnarled.

We have a fascinating way of talking about everything else
Except for the reason
We talk about everything.
We have a fascinating way of talking
About anything except
What's on both of our minds.

And I'm starting wonder how much if it is
Good,
And how much of it is
Bad.

I could listen to you talk
From midnight to morning rush hour

I would watch the headlights pile up on the 101
And the sun climb up the horizon
To the hum of your voice

My head is buzzing
This buzzing ***** lol

it would be something about how much you don't know yourself until you meet certain people. It's wild. Maybe it's partially reactionary. They say our behavior is largely in part due to our environment. Does that mean that parts of my identity are just knee-**** responses to the people I surround myself with? Or, to dig deep a little deeper -

does that mean that you're changing me?

Keep challenging yourself: a corny, yet necessary reminder. Surround yourself with people who test your limits and make you think more.

This can't just be me,

Can it?

Your words bring me to my knees,

We think out loud for hours:

Whistle on in my ear,

I just wanna kiss you, man.

You are,

And I'm not just saying this,

The most extraordinary person I have ever met.

Cortisol and oxytocin

The conversation rolls on like fields outside a car window

Sometimes, it's jagged like mountains, cutting between debates and interruptions

Other times, it shines like city lights, filled with sweet "mmhmm"s.

I'll talk your ear off if you let me.

It's weird

My head feels clear,

For once

All the free verse

Smooths out the curves

I guess

I've been treating it like a data analysis -
All the sweet talk is probably just
Memories gnarled.
I have form A, article 17, and reference from
Last weeks lab work -
I need to just let it come
naturally.

It's weird.

I feel like you know me so much more than most people do.

I don't share this stuff with anyone -

I'm not

personable,

as if me getting to pick and choose my flaws is justified

but at any rate -

how did you know that?

I feel like you see right through me.

"I see your heartbreak, and I feel your pain"

sigh, where am I going with this?

My days have been slathered in zesty
Sundried
Sauce
So much so, I think I'm pruning
-
What, with the tension headaches,
And this new thing called,
Opening-myself-up-to-others,
Hearing the recoiled,
"You're weird"
But bouncing with laughter.
I can't tell if it's good or bad yet.
Maybe it's neither.
Normal, not the one word
I would ascribe
But
Today, I wanted to create
Instead of letting the night unfold
Into misery
-
I thought of someone else today
And felt sad for them,
Not myself
And it was good

I don't want to sit in the car with you for hours
And pick through your brain;
I don't want to comb through my memories
And give you a piece of me

No

I want to **** you around and kiss you
Like I've been waiting my entire
Adulthood
To do this;
I want to hold you, and be next to you
And swim through the sheets
With your starry eyes
Staring up at me

Lights

cross into forbidden territory,
Years stretched into eternity before I knew:
I have never felt this way before

I fumbled through a description of what I was feeling, with little to no decipherable plot and/or chronology of the events that had happened to me. I picked through the memories and seasons of on and off depression as a child picks through blades of grass absent-mindedly, abstaining from truly feeling and connecting. I was afraid. She knew it. I knew it. My body knew it, and spoke in silent volumes to convey that it did not want to be there. How powerful the human consciousness must be then to override the desire to bolt, finding purpose in the unknown - or perhaps, how invertedly weak to find danger in fifty minutes of in depth conversation.

In the thrilling saga that is
My Neurosis
I have finally decided to
Seek help -
Popping prozac,
Coupled with telling a
Kind woman
About my three hour WebMD purge sessions
And
My deep fear of speaking out loud
For about
Fifty minutes a week.

The next chapter will be titled
"Support Groups: Sitting In a Circle With Strangers As We Compare Our Obessive Spirals on Fears of Death, Fears of Living, and Fixations With Folding Laundry."

Is there a ****** orientation guru
And if so,
Could I meet
(Him/Her)
And know why
You turn me every
Which way
Upside down?

And some days the hours run like
Black and white films.
Flickering shadows,
Blank noise,
The hours tick by
Like clicks on a Kodak roll.
Between it all,
A mind as handsome as
The fool on screen
Taps the light
To bring the scene
To an eggshell cream.

All the loose laces of my childhood
Are being strewn into one
Big,
Fat,
Lethargic
Bundle
And I am
Knot sure
How to feel

Call it experience, self-protection
Or even just "listening to their gut" -
But people can smell self-hatred
Like a pile of dog ****

And it always comes in like a bombshell -
For the next few days the world is whitewashed,
With all the lights incredibly bright
And for a while,
My ears are wringing out all of the
Tumtulous
Noise waves, washing away
Everything but
what's essential to survive.

The four phrases thudding through my mind right now:

1. I knew this would bite me in the ***
2. And now I feel like ****
3. It's hard for me to see you as the person you deserve to be seen as at this moment
4. And I should probably allow this to be a wake up call

Excuse me sir, but how much ***** do you have on your shelf?

"I am depressed."
Through gritted teeth,
Through split speech
Through spilling and grinding
Through searching and finding

Instead of treating it like moldy laundry
Instead of rotting under the company of misery
I am telling myself
*hey, you know what, maybe I am worth a little dignity

I want to unbutton myself

tick-tick-tick

I want to unzip my mind
And unclick the years
That have settled into memories
Because I love the way you change these things

I want to show you it all
It's self-indulgent, I know
My words turn to clutter
I haven't gotten any older, have I?

It's been a few since I put the pen to the paper
It's been a few since I tipped my head back
And sighed a stanza

It's been a few, but I still know
While I've been trying to make that 15 year old version of me
Happy
I haven't learned a ******* thing

And I've given you upwards of a thousand songs,
Cementing tunes
Into my everyday blues

But beneath it all I'm just a child:
Wide-eyed,
Petrified,
And by chance adept at
Hollow construction
And steel walls.

How can I continue to build what we have
If you're so hellbent on deconstruction,

How can I love you
If you keep destroying me.

barefoot on the clouds,
i chased you all the way home -
i'm crazy for you.

and like a broken down carousel,
your expiring love notes
have a way of making my world spin
once again

i like to think you like it when i hold you
you like to prove me wrong

I don't want to believe in her valley lights.
I don't want stars in my eyes,
Baby fever
Stuck to sunday sermons and sticky sin.
They say
The indica tinted company
Leaves me burning through heights
And cooing for eternity.
They say
I need a shower
And missed the mark in all places,
Including my voter's ballot.

My life is in boxes
And a valley of people are praying for me.
My life is in boxes
And i just want to breathe.
My life is in boxes
And my parents say they will miss me -

The knots are untying,
my god i'm ready to leave,
My life is in boxes
And i'm actually
Just starting
To finally feel
*free.

wordsmith,
pull me under the grainy pages -
show me how the ink bleeds

And it's all over.
All of it.
Thudding our way down the rabbit hole,
We finally found the bottom.
It finally came to a flaming end.

The many years of perfect storms, first emotions
And raw desire
Have finally reached their drought,
Silenced with the recent memory of an apathetic stare.

"Is this doing anything for you," he said.
And I, with a "No," stopped all motion,
Stuck in position that may have once
Driven him wild.
But there was nothing, now
And everything we once had seemed to sigh in that moment,
Gray and tired.

I was no longer his goddess.
He was no longer my muse.
We had exhausted every corner of each other -
And now we had finally discovered the parts of ourselves
Who no longer could give a ****,
Even in our once tireless animalistic urges.

And although it ended sourly,
It ended with a, "good."

Hips, curves and all,
Spilling and slipping with
Tip-top, filled up
Love,
Baby