I do not know what exactly I desire in this complicated world, only that there are moments in which I wish I didn't exist.
Death is too complicated,  I would rather just
disappear.
into a slumber that lasts for the rest of my life.
life is too difficult, nor is it any fun, I'm not even sure it ever was.


Love is the only thing worth living for, and even that hurts.

it is
it was
it will
always be you
the moon whispers to me in a soft voice, telling me to be patient
because it is you,
it is you I will wait for until my knuckles bleed and until my breath becomes so irregular there are moments where I fear death is too close for comfort
my dreams are constant reminders as to why I sleep,
as to why I wake up
I know there is love out there worth living for
worth bleeding for
worth fighting for
that love is embedded in you
in your soul
and caressed around your lungs
I am at war with time,
time is what keeps us apart
but with the help of the stars in the night sky that accompany the moon
we will meet
and when we do
i will no longer be able to tell dreams from reality
and that my dear,
is why
it is always you

death:
I am ready whenever you are

I'm sitting in the corner of a dark room, where the only light visible is the moonlight
I'm shaking, the touch of his skin is stuck to me like a tattoo
and my bloodstained shirt from last nights war is sticking on my skin.
my breathing begins to grow more rapid, I forget how to breathe in moments like these
he. he's the one who haunts my dreams, eating my mind alive with the poisonous hopes of someday meeting
I am tired and hopeless. I am in love and hurt.
these dreams are what keep my alive, while killing a part of me each night
how long will I last like this?
the memories will always find its way into my mind, weaving it's way inside my brain and coressing it with the horrifying yet beautiful images of him.
but he only exists in my dreams, and the only sound being made in my small apartment is my heavy breathing
reality is my worst enemy
I want to escape in lucid dreams every night, because with him,
i'm no longer hopeless

I have 76 missed calls, and all of them are from you. I always find myself pressing the ignore button instead of answering. It's becoming a natural reflex. You were always good at letting people out, never letting them in and seeing who you are, and what you've become. You have drug addictions and a dark past but even I can see the beauty in you. You never would believe me when I complimented you but I swear everything I said, was all true. You had long brown hair and gorgeous cheekbones, perfectly aligned with your lips. It's been 5 months since we last spoke, and it still to this day haunts me that I could go so long without touching or kissing you or even speaking to you. I always get anxiety attacks whenever you are bought up in conversations. You always made me happy, I guess people were right when they told me to not rely on others for my happiness. When we were together I felt weightless, light but still very dangerous. We always took chances and risked our lives just for the thrill of it all. But I could've sworn as long as I was with you, I would die happily in your arms, our last whiffs of air taken in together, our last heart beats, chest to chest. But now, I feel heavy, dark and dependent. Too afraid to let anyone in and repeat the same mistakes I had with you. I still love you, and a part of me always will. After you, after us, I'am not sure of anything anymore. You're probably out getting drunk, drinking ***** like it was water.  I always wonder if I should call, but what would I say? I miss you? How's your drug program going? Have you met anyone new? I still have your fingerprints on my thigh, no one could ever touch me like you did. I miss you. I hope you're doing okay. I'm lost without you, are you lost without me? All my friends think I'm crazy, but in reality I'm just crazy about the thought of  you.

the best parts of my life have occurred simply because I have left the worst people in it behind

I am so lost

in the midst of writing my feelings I feel my soul separate from me and bleed onto the pages,
a sort of astral projection with words.
poetry is an escape
it is my therapist
my one way ticket to freedom

do I exist?
I’m afraid that sometimes I do
that all of this may somehow be real
and all my failures
all my embarrassments are true.
do I exist?
do I want to?
I can’t imagine wanting to,
wanting to live this life
knowing who I am
how incapable I am of being loved
but how capable I am of disappointing
actually exists
the universe is beautiful,
but it would be made less tragic if I didn’t actually exist
so, I do not exist
I’m just floating,
hoping that when I die
I leave not a trace that I was actually here

I’ve never liked the smell of cigarettes, that was, before I smelled them on you