how do I feel? i couldn't  tell you that.
but I could tell you that
I Feel.
I Feel  everything from the cold winds of
self doubt to the warm feeling which
comes with Love.
I Feel the empty and lonely air which only has it self
and I Feel all the molecules who are begging the air,
to realize that they're there.

maybe one day my heart won't feel like a weight
and maybe one day someone will
want to hold it
no matter how heavy it is
and maybe one day when I spill my guts
at 4am through a drunken phone call
someone will actually answer;
and maybe one day
I won't feel like a burden
maybe when I hold my lovers hand
I won't feel like I'm holding it too tight
maybe one day the kisses will be passionate
maybe one day I'll hear "I love you"
and it won't just be because they want to hear
"I love you too"
maybe one day I won't be so lonely.
maybe one day someone will love me.

look at all the blank space on this paper
should I fill it with my blood or my
tears
or both?
dear mom, I'm so sorry
I couldn't take it anymore and
I'd write to dad too,
but I don't suppose he'll ever see the letter.
maybe my suicide will bring you two together somehow,
if I'm being optimistic I can pretend
something good night come out of it.
I can't decide if this is a poem or a warning that I might be gone soon,
but that's mostly because all my thoughts are running together.
so I will fill the paper with whatever comes to mind and you can pretend you care.

im breaking down out of boredom; im
finding space in my emptiness
and i can't tell if it's just easier to breathe
or if the air is thinning.
its my life
and ill die as many metaphorical deaths as i want to.
and it feels like there's been an accident.
i was playing in traffic again,
and everyone was telling me
"just cross the street!"
but i saw a set of magnificent hands clutching the wheel of your car
and i decided i wanted to see those hands tremble
when they realized they'd ended a life.
goodnight,
i wont see you in the morning,
i hope to see you mourning
because when i was breathing you wanted me six feet away,
at least
but now that im six feet under you
you finally want me
im a firm lover of irony

you said
"its over, let it go.
you need to move on."
but there were shrieks in my ears,
much too loud not to hear.
begging, pleading for me to slit my wrists.
you won't ever be able to tell me im not strong
because i hear them still.
in the back of my brain, i'll
never ever ever ever ever
be sane

i fall off the planet for weeks at a time,
everyone's wondering why
where's she gone? what happened?
i'm probably just somewhere napping
i''m probably cuddling up with the man on the moon
and smoking blunts with all the stars in the room
i'm probably taking rounds of shots
i'm not cutting anybody off'
just consider me absent and forget me til we meet eyes again
meanwhile im gonna be making new friends
with martians and mushrooms
i'll probably be dead soon