Insecurity is wool blanket drenched in water
laying across my nose and mouth,
every breath i take in is a wicked reminder of everything i am not.
its sharp needle points prodding my pores
ripping apart the skin of my throat with every word i'm unable to speak.
Insecurity is facing a firing squad,
every bullet comes from the mouth, every tongue a trigger, every tooth ammunition
Your feet are nailed to the ground, an iron staple of your own making lacing through your toes.
The worst thing about it is that your hands are bulletproof shields,
and if you had the strength to raise your thousand pound arms,
you could use them to block your bruised up brain.
But you can't.
So you don't.
its being uncomfortable in your own skin, a bone shattering, helpless feeling that you
cannot change this.
no amount of compliments or beautiful words whispered in the darkness can fix it
insecurity is the building blocks of my personality,
I'm constantly tailoring everyone in my life to fit it, like a worn dress
I can't walk down the hallway, down the street, through a store
without the feeling of a thousand weighty words cutting into my skin
In every war my mind wages against my body
i stand there like marble, letting the bullets eat me alive.

I see you.
I see myself in you.
I see not the facade that you set like a mask upon your pale face
or the strings tied at your wrists, pulling your arms every which way
or your pain trailing behind you like a black cloud, thunder cracking, as a smile stays
your present is my past
i know you.
Our veins are corded rubber bands that stretch from our arms,
around our backs through every checkpoint joint in our bodies,
they slingshot feelings throughout
so that not only will our brain feel the hurt but everything else too.
We are every single broken person thats searching through the rubble of their own mistakes, hands bleeding, praying for shards of their splintered heart to appear
i am therefore you are and vice versa
im aware of the struggle you go through
that unbelievability that you can swing your legs from your bed and make it through the day
i am conscious of the crippling insecurity,
the four walled prison that you built yourself
the bars, stronger than anything even superman could bend, that are made of the insults that have been muttered
I identify with the confusion with which you feel lost
you don't know who you are
when you lean your head back and subconsciously search the starry night sky for your meaning
I'm there
I am you, and you are me
in a simple merge we are one  
it has always been this way
and it always will be

On this day
15,17,20,37,62 Years ago
a person was born
(many persons actually)
And these people were created
To live a life set out like a placemat before them
So as the years go by
and birthday after birthday passes
These people endure heartache, tragedy, loss, happiness, jubilation, and everything in between
But all they have to show for this is another year.
Another candle in the cake
Another punch on the arm
Another "happy birthday" card
But not everyone can share this day with the important people
So tonight when I'm staring down at a cake
And the light from the flame flickers across my face,
They'll lean in close and whisper "make a wish".
And I'll close my blue eyes as memories of birthdays are shuffled through my head
Then, only then,
I'll wish.

*I wish that I'll make it through another year

So she spoke to me
with elaborate hand gestures,
she spoke to me with passion on her breath and pain between her teeth,
her eyes wild, lighting up, animated, the color of chocolate.
In that moment they looked so cavernous i felt like i could reach my hand deep into those hershey kisses, inside her torn up, beautiful brain.
If I did, i wonder what i'd find?
Maybe a jumble of words, syllables, and lines, the words she searches for.
Amongst the mess i'd see polaroids and music notes
and maybe id know what she thought when she looked at me.
She spoke to me like a person without a broken past or a ******* up mind
and to think
she spoke to me about her triumphs and mine, about how she thought I was beautiful, and strong, and inspiring
those words slipped through my ears and poked at my brain, making me forget about all the things i hate about myself.

as she spoke to me i could almost feel the vines wrapping around my sternum and the flowers blooming between my ribs

as she spoke to me i could almost see myself as she did, almost

as she spoke to me, i almost told her how inspiring she is to me, how beautiful and strong but i couldn't find the perfect words, and thats what she deserved, perfect words.

as
she
spoke
to
me

"This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper"
As i sat here, on this bench, in the absolute freezing cold reading "The Hollow Men"
I realized, i really wished it would have ended with a bang.
I wish we would have confronted each other face to face, and said all the things we were thinking
I wish you would have reached into your brain
and pulled out the gun I know is in there
every truth, a shotgun shell tearing me up from the inside out.

I wish you would have been there with your bullet syllables
and your tongue that was as sharp as a knife, cutting words into my skin,
making my ******* up past, visible to the naked eye.
i wish you would have told me how enervating it was to be my friend
and how exhausting it was to be the one i told everything to
i would have replied i thought thats what drew you to me, that i was serious, honest ,and definitely ****** up, so different from you
i know you would have said maybe you're too ****** up, even for me
and i'd watch you walk away, a retreating form in the distance, something i was used to seeing
and even though it hurt me supremely, at least i'd hear the closure coming from your lips.

But none of this wishing got me anything.
no, of course not.
what i got was frozen messages, a summer spent ignored, a distant call, and a petty, stupid decision that you made, to make me feel like the worthless human being i am.
you faded out, once my constant, now my nothing.
They say with grief our support may falter, and you faltered. You fell, no, jumped right through the cracks,
deciding i was too much weight, too much baggage for you.
So now i sit reading T.S Elliot alone on my friday night and you,
oh you,
you're probably telling everyone about the real broken family i come from.

"This is the way the world ends not with a bang but a whimper"
i couldn't have said it better myself.

In a shattered, boneless sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
for if I should stay another day
I may just take my life away

not a sky of grey or blue
or really any other hue
or frozen, crystalline, pouring rain
will fix my deeply, troubled brain

not the darkness, thats so sublime
or memories of stolen times
or the endless beautiful waves
will clear my eyes of all those graves

so when you take a look at me
I genuinely ask you what you see?
do you recognize the clockwork of my mind
or the confining restraints with which you bind

so I wake from my shattered, boneless sleep
with a sigh I begin to weep
my lungs can't expand and I can't breathe
so I shut my eyes and dive in deep

i pray the lord my soul to keep