I often find I share the parts of myself I do not want
or never intended to have.

Too often the constriction of silence forces my lungs to breathe out words I'd rather keep in my head-
words I wish to take back.

My journal is no longer filled with free thoughts & the belief in fate
but rather,
wasted ink on words that feel similar to an empty home.

Too often I'm lost in my clouded disposition,
imitating poets I'll never measure up to,
& forgetting the purpose of poetry altogether.

My words may sound beautiful but couldn't be further from juxtaposing my truth-
a subtle illusion that seems to make all the difference.

If only this beauty was my reality,
because the truth is that I'm destroying myself.
& in this truth I find that
I like it.

another monday afternoon.
plants tipped over,
pages of books torn,
messy closets & hangers on the floor-
none of which give the day purpose.
all a shade of grey.

Head is in overdrive
but that's just a fantasy because
my reality
has stripped me bare
of all I once shared.

Melancholic cloud in my mind,
slice it open,
give me peace
from thoughts I can no longer keep.

Keep me up,
ups & downs,
the fall lasts an eternity.
What a monotony
to feel free for a time-
short & delicate,
a slippery climb
that always secures the fall.

Want to **** myself
but don't know how,
how to save those I love from feeling.
There's no reason to care,
nothing can save me
& feelings are *******, anyway.

Wish I had a lock on my door.
I'd feel safer in my solitude
& death may come easier
when I know I can't let anyone in.

My peace is your pain
& without me,
your life may just be
a little easier.

Everyone's the same
& no matter how hard I try,
I can't get away
from the disease.

I haven't written a **** thing lately.
I haven't said anything worth remembering because there is a soft hum in my head where my brain used to be.
I no longer hold the desire to speak,
& the only words that run through this empty space are,
"I want to die,"
"I want to die," tugging at me as I drag through the days,
constant & unyielding.

I will wait,
quiet-mouthed & bloodless,
with pallid cheeks & shaking hands
that may never cease to remind me
that I am not right.
With words swirling just as the flakes I wait in do
in the dead of winter,
I wait
to see you alone.

I am afraid,
waiting, wordless
silent as the ******* lamb the righteous speak of.
Is there a God?
Hidden beneath a blanket of snow,
cold, still
waiting for you.

To see you alone.
Holding my breath in moving time,
but frozen in chained silence.
Bones, they quake &
skin feels foreign
in a familiar discomfort.
Silent, still
I wait for you.