**** me .
Just end it all .
Use those words you threw like daggers .
and aim for my heart
Finish it all.
Grab a stake
and nail me to the wall .
I’d rather feel nothing at all ,
Than to feel lost .

“Don’t touch me”.
That’s what I think in my head every time
you come near me.
“Don’t touch me”.
Keep your fat fingers away from me.
You ***** me
with your eyes and your mind,
you kidnapped me.
Took me on a rollercoaster of a emotions
only to drop me from the top.
You dropped me from the top
and expected me to land on top
of you.
I wouldn’t touch you even if you paid me to.
Even if you wanted me to.
I would rather choose to lose
everything
than to be caressed by you.

I married you.
Decided to spend my life with you.
But
That was before the betrayal.
Before the kid.
Before you did what you did
and said what you said.
Before sleeping next to you meant
sexually being touched
and before you stopped trusting me.
So I sleep away
from the stress of being awaken.
It’s nice.
Being able to think and hear my own thoughts
instead of hearing your snores
that rock me almost as much as your words do.
Did.
As much as your words did.

This is goodbye
and saying I’m sorry would be a lie.
Since you are unable to recognize
what was blatantly in front of your eyes.
I must leave.
I must flee.
I must retreat
and the next time you see me,
make sure you ignore me.
Pretend you ain’t see me.
It’s over.

Sincerely,
Your Ex-Wifey

you don't talk to me .
you talk at me .
you talk just so you'll have someone who'll listen .
and I always listen to you .
I listen to you
before you listen to me
and you never listen
to me .
It's like
I'm tuned into your channel
and you're tuned into yourself .
every single one of you
only care about yourselves
and it does not make any sense to me .
how can someone constantly pay attention to
you yet ,
you can only see details about yourself ?
selfish ,
rapacious ,
parsimonious .
different word ,
same meaning .
different people ,
same reaction .

how come some of us are destined to be
the ones who care
while others are the ones who get cared for ?
why am I forced to feel like when I'm talking
but not a soul is listening ?
in one ear and out the other
or maybe it goes right over your head ?
is it possible that every word I've spoken
has been ignored because of lack of interest ?
why is it that I'm always the one who fades
into the background ?
I'm the one who starts the story
but never gets to finish .
the one with so much to tell
but no one to tell it to .
the one who just wants to be heard
but has already been muted .

I am
mute .

Sometimes I wish I would’ve stayed mute.
Which means I wish I didn’t talk
or converse.
I wish words didn’t fall from my lips
like a waterfall of
meaningless nothings.
Falling with swift abandon
and landing recklessly.
I just wish I would’ve stayed mute.
Being mute appears to be made for me.

and my chest keeps constricting.
tightening.
and my eyes keep watering.
gushing.
and my head keeps hurting.
throbbing.

Our
Generation,
Is The
Light Of
*The World.

I’m feeling like giving up.
As I sit and gaze into nothin’
I hear my heart thumpin
through the music that’s crumpin
in my ears.
and I’m wishin
for it to all slow down
and stop.
I’m wishing I could
replace my blood with molasses
and then slit my wrist and watch.
Watch as the life drains from my eyes.
Would you believe me if I told you, that wasn’t a lie?
Not an exaggeration
or a tale?
Of course you wouldn’t
because you aren’t me
you don’t have my mind
or the thoughts that creep in.
and with a mouth
that is permanently disconnected
from my mind,
how will I ever get you
to understand
why I am the way I am?

I wish you loved me as much as you hate my depression
and if we’re confessing
I wish for your words
to caress me.
Touch me,
gently.
I wish for your actions to translate into symbols
my half blind eyes will see coming from miles away.
even when
I leave my glasses at home.
I wish wishes equaled more than just a wish.
I wish a wish would wish for me.

and to wilt
parallel a flower.
I sag,
I flap
and I flop.
but never flip.
in truth!
I am decaying.
starving
because they starved me
and corrupted my seed.
before i knew it
the fusarium wilt
was my disease.
someone could’ve cured me,
watered me.
but instead of
mollifying
they
mummified
me.
dried me
into crumbs of
leaves.
nothing but dust
that decided to fly away
with the breeze.
to wilt is to wither away into nothing.

and to go faint
as in, to become dull.
that whimsical light is
erratically the same
yet never enough.
it is distorting and
it contorts
my colors.
my ambience is
disrupted
by the Eclipse of-
WAIT.
how can I grow
when no (sun)light is
raining unto my path?
drip
       drip
               drop.
    stay.
witness as I go
from this vibrant color
to a washed out gray.
I stood in the mirror
face-to-face
with the girl who wears my face
and I watched it drain.
with death looming over
her shoulder
and no angel in sight..
to go faint would be to wither and drown in my own cries.

and to rot.
all day, around the clock.
I am that sad flower
hiding in your *** .
unable to be set ablaze
by the radiant light,
called love.
so I sit
and I wait.
I rest my leaves
in defeat.
it seems as though
I might be granted this reprieve.
and the truth is I was murdered
long before I decided to **** me.
I used to be
unseasoned.
I was fresh
untouched by filth.
but now I am
spoiled
with mold
like bread and milk.
so beware of the signs
for this infectious malady,
it might be contagious.
and in truth,
a remedy
could be made for me
or so they tell me.
what they don’t understand
is I already tried.
I tried to comply
and I tried to rest my eyes.
yet the only thing prescribed
are these drugs
with the death of my mind
being the main effect,
on the side.
to rot would be to not only wither away but also to die.

Sometimes I wish I didn't exist.
Who would want to exist in this world anyways?
Living a life of hurt and loneliness
Because no matter what you do, no one will ever stick around to see you make it out of this disastrous and heartless cold world or not.

Oh how I hate the word
'Alone'.
Because that's what I've been feeling lately.
"You aren't alone."
"I'm here for you."
"There are others going through this too."
Yada, yada, yada.
Those are just words that spill like a fallen drink on the kitchen counter.
Emptying its' contents like you would your stomach after hearing that your brother faces up to 25 years for something you wish he didn't do.

Is that too personal for you?
Oh, I can get much more personal.

How about uprooting your life for the second time?
Second time? Second time.
For a parental figure who doesn't even act like you were once in her.
Your heartbeat mixing with hers in this entrancing dance of rhythm.
Picking favorites and avoiding communicating with you because who needs to communicate with her own flesh and blood anyways?
Forcing you to look for tender and warm maternal affection and direction elsewhere because how could she possible show love if she's more lost than you are?

Not personal enough?
I'm just warming up.

I've been so independent for so long.
I never knew I could learn to depend on someone so much.
Again.
But, I did.
And I'm sorry if this starts to slowly turn into one of those lovey dovey yucky yucky poems.
But, I've finally met my match.
Someone who laughs at the same things as me.
Someone who takes care of me and sends me those cute
"Did you eat?"
"Did you make it home?"
"I miss you."
Texts.
Someone who has seen me broken and beaten down and instead of running away at full speed,
He cupped my face with his hands and forced me to look at him,
Through the snot and tears,
And told me
"Do you see me? I will not leave you. I am here."

And that my friends,
Gave me back my will.
My will to live.
My will to survive.
The will I lost so long ago.
The will I never knew I had.
But, don't let that "will" fool you.
I'm still learning how to depend on myself.
I'm still learning how to love my life.
I'm still learning how to want to live.

If that wasn't personal enough for you,
Then nothing ever will be.

When you feel like
Talking let me know.
Would I sound cliché
If I Said
"I'll be here if
You need me?"

Let me tell you this:
I've been through what
You're going through.
It's not easy,
But you will get through it.
Sometimes it feels like
It's better to not
Hope
Then to hope,
Because you don't want
To get hurt.

Well, that's wrong.

But here's my advice:
*Some Things Are Worth The Risk.

The things we know do not surprise,
Because the things we know we’ve felt.
All the things we’ve saw with our eyes,
Were frozen ice truths about to melt.
But truths can make you go insane
When all you know is sanity.
You start to feel like an unmarked train
Or someone blind, who can not see.
But don’t believe, these are false hopes
Because the things you know are fake.
They confuse you more than you know you know
And breaks you just like an earthquake.
Just know sometimes in life you lose,
Because your battles you cannot pick and choose.

If I died,
Would you notice?
Would you even care?
Or would it be like I'm still there
Locked up in my prison,
Doing you slave work?
Not having a life,
Not having a soul.

If I died,
Would I be swallowed up in shadows?
Never to see the light of day again?
Would the darkness
Consume me alive,
Trapping me in its
Tendrils of death and hopelessness?
Until all I am is less than
A figure of your imagination?

If I died,
Would Heaven pull me up,
Or would Hell yank me down?
Would I be happy in the clouds,
Or tormented in the lake of fire?
Would I feel sweet relief
From a life filled with pain and hate?
Or would I regret
Having left the world to soon?

If I died,
Would anyone miss me?
Would they realize I'm gone?
Or would it be like a song forgotten?
Would I occasionally cross your mind,
Like lyrics?
Would you have trouble remembering me,
Like a name of a song?

If I died,
What would I become?

They say they "understand".
But, what is that?
They say they "know me".
But, who am I?
They say they "want to help me".
But, how could they?
How can they help me,
when I can't even help myself?

Shattered. Broken. Crushed.
no. please no, not again.
Asphyxiate. Strangle. Smother.
the pain.. please just make it stop. please.
Pierce. Penetrate. Plunge.
why aren't you listening to me? why won't you help me? WHY DON'T YOU CARE?!
Agony. Affliction. Torture.
**** me. just **** me. end it all please.
Silence. Paradise. Sleep.
I'm not afraid of *death. but is death afraid of me?

Leave them be and take me.
Why take them away from their family?
Why not take me?
Those affected would be
maybe two or three.
truly.

one more line added
to my collection.
one more line added
to the sketchbook
I call my body.

They say silence does something to a person
and it does.
I’ve been drowning in silence for years now
and you know what it looks like?

it’s dark.
almost like a black hole
because it swallows the light,
is never ending
and it burns
deep
deep into your soul.

this silence
is never ending
and it hurts my ears.
and makes me sad.

I remember a time
when this silence
used to be filled with
talking.
But, I also remember a time
when all I knew was silence.
So why does this bother me?
Why does this silence
feel like it’s clawing away
at my heart
and my skin?
I feel like it’s ripping me
into shreds
and I can do nothing but
standby and be
a bystander to my own
massacre.

I have a secret.
A Secret that is me.
Something my "Mother"
Wouldn't approve of.
She'd say:
"You're a disgrace!"
"You make me sick!
And all I'll know is:
"I deserve this."

A Deer In Headlights,
And A Fish Out of Water.

Sometimes I get sad.
Like sad sad.
To the point where it feels like a blanket of darkness is surrounding me.
Like a black hole of sadness
and happiness can’t get in.
And a life without happiness?
It’s suicide.
It’s almost like my own hands are strangling me.
Do you know how it feels to be suffocated?
To feel your soul slowly ooze out of your pores?
To have your life force ripped piece by piece from your heart?
Dear God or whoever you believe in,
I hope you never do.

Sometimes I get down.
Like down in the dumps.
To the point where it feels like happiness is a foreign concept.
Like the idea of physics.
Difficult and hard to understand
Especially when you’re your own teacher.
Teaching myself something you never knew to begin w.
So , HOW will I catch on?
I just can’t.
I can’t grasp the idea euphoria, happiness or physics.
No matter how hard I try.
And maybe that’s what I get.
Call it bad karma or bad luck ,
Whatever shoe fits just make someone else wears it
And not me.
Or maybe it’s because I was never taught how to be happy
and how to love myself.

Sometimes I get depressed.
Like depressed all of the time actually.
25/8.
There’s never a ‘happy’ moment.
Not for long.
Not ever .
I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t depressed.
Maybe when I was a kid.
Back when life was a walk in the park
And all I had to worry about was..
Whatever kids worry about I guess.
I can’t remember what that would be.
All I know is that kids have this innocence,
This happiness,
This light.
But, I never had that.
Not even for a minute.
Like a 24 hour clock of depression
I’m always clocked in.