My anxiety and depression hold
hands like lovers
The only thing in the world they love more than eachother is me
Sometimes I smoke until I can't breathe
Sometimes I drink until I can't see
Sometimes I drive too fast and listen to music so loud it hurts
Sometimes I greet perverted men's
stares with promiscuous smiles
Sometimes I kiss people I shouldn't
& let them unbutton my jeans
Sometimes I lie through my teeth
Sometimes I don't feel a thing
Sometimes I think I'm alive
Sometimes I know I never will be
Sometimes I hold myself
because you're not here to do it
Sometimes I think I won't miss you
But I know I always will
I used to love Mondays. The day had been monotonous and colorless as ever until I could collapse onto your bed and into your arms. Now I'm just like everyone else- I don't look forward to Mondays.
Today I came home and took a 5 1/2 hour nap so I didn't have to spend another afternoon crippled on the floor. Staring at the ceiling. Feeling the hole in my chest like a gun shot victim.
I can feel myself becoming a puddle composed of the empty words that spill from my mouth and drip into my shoes. I miss you.
We developed an obsession with horror films. Maybe watching demons on the screen made us feel a little better about the demons living inside of us.
Fridays are all the same now. The absence of you is everywhere I look. I texted you. I asked you not to disappear. I wish you understood what I meant. Knowing me, I'll probably call you after there's more alcohol in my veins than blood. I don't think you would pick up.
I don't want to go anywhere in case I see you. Your friend asked me how I was doing. I said I was trying my hardest to leave and heal and move on. They said I should find someone new. ****. You're everything I hate and you're everything I need.
We had *** for the first time on a Sunday afternoon in March.
It was raining. Sometimes I feel like it still is. I know that the remains of who I was before I met you are still inside me somewhere. Maybe next week I'll find them.
high heels and disheveled clothing
smudged lipstick and missing belt loops
with splintered backs & frigid
stumbling back into civilization
& back into being perfect strangers.
I can't even see you
through the oasis of crimson cups
& bitter smoke
my perception of you is askew
with your crooked smile and premeditated demeanor.
Am I delusional?
I think something happened but maybe
if I pour more amnesia
down my throat
by morning it'll seem like some awkward
I wish I hadn't have seen that.
we can hear your mother
in the other room but that doesn't slow
the race to peel out of our clothes
& hide under sheets and melodies
in the darkness
during the long stretches of deafening silence
I wonder what this means to you
I wonder what it means to me
I can taste the casualty on your lips.
Rewind. Pause. Slow Motion.
my throat tightens
allowing nothing but the minimal
amount of oxygen to keep my blood
stuttering through my veins
an earthquake pulls through my bones
& rips through my chest
i close my eyes and try to wake myself up
you set me down on the empty
side of your bed
no questions asked
maybe getting ****** will make it easier to pretend
like this didn't happen
it's new years eve
the moment I could feel the intoxication
roll through my body like a tsunami
a rogue wave slammed through the door
washing you up in this teenage wasteland
we float along avoiding eye contact
Almost as if there was an impromptu contest of who could be the least interested
I'm not very competitive
as the clock twists to the first few seconds of a new year
I press my lips against your mouth
searching for something, anything.
I can't feel him or my toes
I need to get out of my head.
the hours are moving too quickly
by the time I saw you again
my body was like a popped balloon
no one wants to play with the carnage
& neither did you.
***** and whiskey are not my friends
my hair creates homes for small birds
as the black of my eyes smear
across my cheeks
if I had been able to move
without collapsing in on myself
or if the cold sweat didn't threaten to ingulf my pulse
maybe I wouldn't have clung onto your body
with such disdain but the smell of your skin
made the pounding in my head bearable.
not the state of mind but relative to our position
our feet dangling toward
the distant rock and stream scattered ground
my skirt wasn't made for adventures
but claiming chivalry isn't dead
you kept your eyes fixed on mine
you told me if I got scared we didn't have to go all the way
but you've met at a very strange time in my life
I couldn't have turned back
even if I wanted to.
it's two o'clock in the morning
the movie had turned to a silent film
as the wind had knocked the electricity from its circuits
I didn't want to go home
we were acquaintances
strung together by a shared friend
with flowers in her eyes
we ran through the moon lit streets
up a fire escape to dance
on the rooftops
we laid on our backs with your arms draped around us
trying to create a shelter from the chill of a coming storm
this was the first time you ever touched me.
we're back at the beginning now
strangers, nothing more
I've been staring blankly at the back of your head
for almost two years now
the days blur together as we attempt to absorb something
resembling the French language from this miserable, decrepit
woman's so-called teachings
there is a phrase that has burrowed its way into my mind
"je ne regrette rien"
I don't regret anything
things are starting to look like the beginning again
the fangs of futile complications
sink into my neck releasing venom
into my bloodstream which leaks into my brain
distorting my vision
everything around you is morphing
to become monotonous and colorless
my perception of you is wavering
& the phrase that has taken refuge between my temples
illuminates to fully reveal itself
"nous sommes des étrangers avec des souveirs et je ne regrette rein."
we are strangers with memories and I don't regret anything.
****** and nostalgic youth
We raced through the streets
Absorbing our reality
Relative to our position
Living in between the past and present
— The End —