if you take a minute and

look at yourself

you will see

a vast inquisition is held

in that brain of yours

because who are you, really ?

1) I drenched myself in meaningful moments. Cherished each smile I received and each hug I shared with someone dear to me.

2) I replaced my anger with laughter. Learned that the only person hurting from my anger is me.

3) I stopped being afraid to leave people behind. When someone treats me cruelly, I remove them from my reality.

4) I watch the sunset and take the time to reflect on myself. I have to face my demons to put my mind to rest.

5) I took 'regret' out of my vocabulary. No point in dwelling on a pain that I can't change.

Now I see peace, seated next to me.

i dream of you when the sun falls to her knees
i watch as she sinks,
to raise your eyes into view
how lovely
how brown
filling the open sky with fond stars
that watch as your brown glimmers in their place

i dream of you when the clouds join forces
i watch as thunder roars and lightning blares
your smile into focus
how lovely
how bright
filling my mind with wonderous thoughts
and my heart with shock waves of joy

i dream of you when i close my eyes
to reveal your hand searching for mine
how lovely
how kind
filling the air wth hot bursts of laughter
that find their place in my affection
and settle in

i dream of you
all of the time
how lovely you are
how blessed am i

breathing is a regular body function
still, it seems like it was the hardest thing for me to do my whole life
i always felt like i was being swept up roughly by an ocean wave
i would grapple with the demons that lived in the deepest parts of my mind
just for one, just one breath
it was so difficult to fight all of the time
so hard to convince myself that it would all pay off in the end
that in due time, breathing would become easier

then i met you, and it felt like everything in the world changed
those long nights i spent alone gasping for air hour, after hour ceased to exist
the demons in the deepest part of my brain dissipated
and nothing was difficult
i stopped thinking negatively and i felt that for the first time in a long time,
that i had hope

and instead of staying up, restless at night i would lay my head down peacefully on my pillow
no more harmful thoughts
i didn't feel a pressing weight on my shoulders anymore
and for the first time in my life, my lungs weren't burning in their longing for air
air was filling them graciously and wholesomely
and thus i began to fall in love with you

we became inseparable
and the whole world seemed to know it
because we were in love, and everyone wished they had what we did
right?

in time we would realize that we weren't in love
not even close
you stopped caring and so did I
and just as quickly as we fell in love
we fell out of it
and as quickly as you seemed to heal my lungs
you damaged them again

now i try to breathe and it doesn't seem to work
my lungs are burning, desperate for air
but thats ok, because they say time heals all
and maybe instead of someone else healing me
i just need time
and i can heal myself
and breathing wont be so difficult
and the demons will permanently disappear
for now, ill just learn to forget you

im not a mess
everyone just happens to be holding a different piece of me

my whole life has been lived inside a fish bowl
i wish i could love like her outside the ritual
but i’m a **** clown and everyone’s laughing at my red nose
she’s graceful and you catch her out the shallow
i keep punching in the same combination and expecting the lock to jimmy open
everything’s staying the same but the numbers keep changing
i cant help but wonder if the big green monster has consumed me
spite the word i say it’s jealousy
i swear you don’t mean it
loving me is just a courtesy

lying under the fluorescent lights
wading in the white sheets
the lights faded in and out
it took everything in him to suppress the tears accumulating
even with the red liquid surfacing from every scorched part of his body
he couldnt let himself cry
because MEN dont cry
boys cry.

the last time he cried
he was too young to remember
except for what his father had done
when he saw the glistening drops rolling down his face
slammed him into the ground
and the sprained wrist he acquired
was his reminder everyday that
MEN dont cry
boys cry.

but he let that glorious shining tear roll down anyways
because maybe men cry too.

i wish that i still dreamt
because then i could escape the reality
that i dread so much

dream (/drēm/) :
   1. an alternate reality created by our
       subconscious minds to satisfy our
       greatest and deepest desires

a cockroach crawled up her sleeve and inside her shirt
and it fumbled its way into her brain
then, it fed her lies and let her think she was worthless
when it was done, it crawled back out
and on its way out,
it took all of the love that she had for herself
it left her empty

from that day on
she unconsciously let in every cockroach she met
trying not to feel empty
not knowing that those cockroaches
were only making her feel
more empty

sometimes when i get sad
i sit on my bed and stare at the wall
i count every impression and dip i see in front of me
until i lose myself in how monotonous the task is
i stop thinking and analyzing and evaluating

then, when the sun has set
and my room is drenched in the dark blanket of the night
my mind returns from its absence
from whatever vacation it took
and everything sets back into normal motion

but somehow, im always missing a small piece of myself
on the trip back every time
i lose myself a little more

princess, oh princess where has your tiara gone?
its proud display upon your head graces our eyes no more
no longer atop your hair,
and intertwined with the strands, so fair

princess, oh princess, where has your grace gone?
your soft embrace and hearty walk live amongst the shadows
not a single smile to melt the hearts of your people

princess, oh princess where has your happiness gone?
i see no glimmer in your eyes, no rose in your cheeks
has it abandoned you as well?

i wish you would wake, princess of mine
for, i fear that you are breathing no more

when i glance in the mirror, the reflection i see is not you
its a hollow-eyed beast, no doubt your rotting corpse

princess, oh princess why must you have passed?
i need you now more than ever,
for it seems i cannot complete this task
without my dearest princess, i am a goner,

i will not last.

im not scared of death, at all. i dont broadcast that statement as much i used to because it always seems to put people off. like not being terrified of the inevitable makes me some kind of rare specimen.

im not scared of death, at all. i guess that makes people scared of me because i dont feel the same as them. i must be some kind of freak after all.

i smiled in the face of death. who does he think he is to scare me? i knew his intentions and instead, i reached out and intertwined my fingers with his. the black dust and coal rubbed off on my skin and i felt the friction gaining energy. he looked into my already stone eyes and tried again to get me to fear him. ¨oh death,¨ i chuckled. ¨you cant ever scare me, because im not running from you anymore.¨

i am feeling particularly emotionless today
void of any thoughts
other than those focused on my heart beat

i can still here it in my head
only when i am alone in that house
when it is dark outside
and the night is manipulative

every shadow is yours
but none of them are yours

every sound is your voice
but none of them are yours

i am feeling particularly emotionless today
void of any thoughts
other than those focused on your hands

i remember it like it was yesterday, which i have to say is strange, because i have trouble remembering everything else. i remember you were sitting in front of me and i was terrified, palms sweating, eyes watering. i was truly scared if you, or rather of myself. a little part of me hated you too. you looked so, self-righteous sitting in your rolling chair, with you perfect posture and your clicky pen. when you started to ask me question i ignored you. id been shacked up in my head for so long i forgot how to talk to people. anyways, my head was comfortable, familiar. i had a bed full of memories and a closet full of monsters. i had drawers full of hopes (i never opened them of course), but they were there, it was nice to know they were there.

my favourite possession in my mind however, was a little glass jar on my nightstand. it looks empty at first glance, but the harder you look the more you see. there are colours, like rays of light, they swirl around and hit each other, a vibrant crimson color. theres a green in there to, if you saw it you'd swear mother nature put it there herself. theres also a blue, its the largest of all the swirls. it looks royal and dark, beautiful.

theres also a yellow. but its different, not in its beauty or vibrance, but in its location . it isn't in the jar. the yellow swirls around the edge of the glass. occasionally bumping into it  almost as if it wants in, but theres no way for it.

i remember holding back, never telling you that because i thought you'd think i was crazy. so i didn't say a thing. but man do i remember that jar. that room. i remember the colours, their saturation, how they moved. i remember the monsters beating on the closet door looking for a way out. i remember the bed of sweet memories. but im sorry, i don't remember more important thing, like how to feel. i truly am.

i am not sure you know how much you mean to me
when i am busy saving everyone that remembers me
i become too distracted to save myself
drowning in a pool of my own sorrow
instead of doubt, or caution
you plunged in after me
to make certain
that my head would rise above the water

when i was too busy to save myself
you did it for me
thank you
for awakening the dormant light awaiting in my soul

her heart beat at an unfamiliarly fast speed
as she picked the small container
up off of her nightstand

hot tears raced down her face
as if they were racing to reach
the finish line of her shirt collar
as if it were a life or death competition
they poured down in long, hot drops
and she tried to wipe them away
but it was useless

everytime she wiped a bunch
of tears from under her eyes
a new bunch would form
and continue the competition

her soft, sunkissed hands
trembled with the container in them

she lifted it up to eyelevel with her
but even then the thick stream of tears
blocked her vision
and she could only make out
the faint colors of the container

without a second thought
she inhaled one final breath
and shut her eyes

the white bottle cap
twisted open in her hands

and little pale pills
trickled down her throat

her heart beat at an unfamiliarly slow speed
and she went out with a small thud
and a smile gracing her face

ebony colored skin and chocolate eyes
hair like spirals and coils dripping down
a face so sculpted it seemed crafted by the gods themselves
her hips spread and attached to a thin waist
and lipids gathered in thick bunches below them

she eyes her features in a mirror and grows in a sense of loss
an innaccurate feeling, but she gets it anyway
why?

when she was 5 years old she went to school
with her hair out of braids, curls voluted
she was ecstatic to share it with her friends
but, they just laughed and pointed
and her teacher scolded her
and tried to tame it down with vicious twists

when she was 11 years old she went to school excited
she was ecstatic to see the boy with ivory skin that she liked
but, he whispered about her
and a girl told her that he didnt like her
because she was too “black”

on her 17th birthday she gathered up all of her courage
and stood up for herself

when another girl with eggshell colored skin
told her that she was inferior
and belonged as a slave
and people told her to stop overreacting
and her teacher kicked her out for being violent

so she went home
let a stream of tears loose
and finally told herself that they were all right
she lost every shred of self worth

that’s why.

Hey,

I miss you a lot, but I think it would be impossible to ever tell you how much.
And you know that I’ve always been bad with words.
You remember I never knew what to say, when we sat together at the table for all of the “failing” kids in pre-calc, but you always knew what to say back then.
I remember you always knew what to say.
Even when we talked about nothing, you could tell me something.

I miss you a lot.
I think now that even if it were impossible to ever tell you how much, that I have to at least tell you how I cope.
Because then maybe you could understand somehow.
Somehow maybe you could understand.

I’m in college now and I don't go back home too much.
I pretend like I’m too important, or that I have too much going on to be there.
But you know the truth, you know it hurts too much.
But I go back sometimes, and when I do I go to the Freddy's parking lot, and I sit in my car. In that old plaza we used to work in.

And I put on “To This Day” by Shane Kocyzan and I shut my eyes as tightly as I can.
I listen a few times and pretend like you’re in the passenger’s seat listening with me, and sometimes I cry.
And sometimes I don’t.
Every time it hurts the same.
But I have to do it.

I have to do it to remember you, because I can’t ever forget you.
I do it hoping you’ll see me and sit with me.
Like really sit with me, just for a few minutes.
All I need is a few minutes.

I have to do it because maybe it’ll make me miss you less.
Or maybe you’ll see me and you’ll know how sorry I am.
How sorry I am that I didn’t go to your memorial.
I have to do it because I didn’t go to your memorial.

I do it because I have to tell you that we love you and that it wasn’t your fault, but you know that it wasn’t your fault and you know that we love you.
And I hope you know how sorry I am that I didn’t go to your memorial.
But you know that I’ve always been bad with words, and you always knew what to say.
And even if it’s impossible for you to hear me, I have to tell you how sorry I am.
That I didn't go to your memorial.
Then I turn up “to this day” and I remember you and I have to do it because I miss you too much.

Sincerely,

Your remorseful friend, V

i dont think that i will ever forgive you for what you did to me. or maybe i will never forgive myself for letting it happen. forgiveness is scarce here.

sometimes it hurts to be living person
it hurts you deep in your bones
it burrows gaping holes inside of you until it reaches you heart
It doesn't stop there
it envelopes your heart
and squeezes
and squeezes
and squeezes

until it feels like you're burning from the inside out
your heart becomes a flaming ball of radiation
and slowly burns its way out of your chest
the process is gradual and agonizing
and when it finally falls out
you feel worse
your screams become louder
and louder
and louder

they become so deafening that you think people across the planet can hear you
well you're right, they can, they can hear every ailed cry
they can see every scorchingly hot tear

but don't you think, for one second, that they can feel you
don't you think, for one second that they know what it feels like to hurt, simply because you're a living person

For the last four months, the gears usually churning in my head have halted to an eerie stop. I can't recall anything passed and I can't think of anything new. Dust accumulated on gears big and small making them appear certainly abandoned. It was joined by cobwebs and the spiders who willed them into existence. If I concentrate hard enough I'm sure I will feel them crawling around looking for any sign of life or sustenance. Perhaps these poor creatures are out of luck. I think next, the rust will start to form, and then I will really be in trouble. It will corrode every last piece of metal and take no regard for the way it destroys me. Slowly, the gears will turn orange, and then brown, and then they will cease to exist at all. And that is when I will truly be a lost cause. I guess in a way I'm only getting what I’ve always wanted: for the gears to take a break, to stop churning so mercilessly all the time, to stop working countless possibilities over and over and over again. The most futile effort I’ve ever known. When the gears fall, I think I will be normal. Finally, in correspondence with the people I see around me, I will be just the same. Feigning happiness will not be required, because maybe I will just feel it.

everyone is an artist
because we craft our lives and decisions
so meticulously
our choices are so specific to who we are
that no one can make the exact ones as the other

everyone is an artist
because we craft our insults and hatred
so carefully
our awful and greedy actions are so specific to who we are
that no one can do the exact ones as the other

everyone is an artist
because we craft our love
so perfectly
our hearts interwine with those we seek the most and are so specific to who we are
that no one can love another the exact say way

everyone is an artist
but just the same as art we can not plan our lives
because it will not come out the way that we imagined
and it will not go perfectly
but we will plan anyways
and try our best to make everything go the way we would like it to

we cant really craft our lives

we cant really craft our hatred

we cant really craft our love

but we sure as hell can try

i have good and bad days. its just that the bad days outnumber the good ones. and sometimes the bad days get really bad and i lose myself in my thoughts. sometimes the bad days get so bad that i can feel my heart aching and trying to burst out of my body. sometimes the bad days get so bad that i forget to treat myself like person and instead, beat myself with sledgehammers and hockey sticks. but sometimes the good days are so good that i skip around dancing and singing all day. i smile and laugh and forget the bad things and become this becon of light. i just shine and shine and infect everyone around me with all the pure happiness i project. sometimes the good days are just the day where i dont break down. sometimes i have good days and sometimes i have bad days. im hopeful that the good days will outnumber the bad ones, eventually.

oh baby, don’t miss me too bad
i’ll see you in the next life,
this one clearly isn’t for me

if you accidentally wander into my mind
you’ll find yourself faced with many
strange arrangements and patterns

there are thoughts dressed in silk
and ideas coated in gold

there are words dipped in honey
and emotions sprinkled with turmoil

there are nerves covered in sadness
and smiles sheltering angry scowls

if you accidentally wander into my mind
you’ll find yourself asking this question

am i happy?

sometimes i get so sad that i shut down. i forget how to move. i forget how to speak. people talk to me, but i cant hear them. sometimes i get so sad that i cant even cry. a feeling of numbness washes over me. other times, i feel lie if i get out of bed, ill surely die.

sometimes i get so happy that i go into overdrive. i forget what sadness feels like. i forget how to stop speaking and laughing. i feel as if my heart will explode and ill never be able to stop the surge of joy. sometimes i get so happy that i cry while i smile. a feeling of euphoria washes over me. other times i feel that if i dont share this feeling, ill surely die.

then there are periods of nothing. i guess what im looking for is balance. how do i find harmony?

i dont want to fall too hard
or jump too high

i just want to walk on water.

this poem is called: heartless
because it is filled with little heart felt phrases that people share with each other
while they make loving eyes at and pretend
to be in love

"your voice is music to my ears."
"looking at you makes my heart skip a beat."
"im unbelievably in love with you."
"you know me so well."
"lets spend the rest of our lives together."
"i feel so safe when im with you."

its all just fantasically cruel lies

they say the older you get, the easier it becomes for you to hold on
but when i look into their eyes, i see a different story
it only seems to become harder for them

their eyes tell me what their mouths never will
“help.”

their asking, begging, i know it

why else would she spend an entire paycheck
filling her body to the brim
with every kind of toxic drug she can get her hands on

and why else would he
even attempt to justify
the two little pale pills
he just dropped in her drink

why else would they
look at me with sorrow
filled eyes and with regret
emanating from their skin
if they didn't want,
need help

they are asking, begging for it
maybe not with their mouths
but with
their eyes
their actions
and i was begging for it too
why else would i write this?

“help.”

she kept asking me why im always writing
and why i love road trips so much
why i cant stay in one place for more than a year without feeling the sting of boredom crawling its way into my skin
so i told her

its just that
             there is no other way for me to live my life
not when i know that
             the whole world is staring me back in the face
patiently waiting
             getting ready for me to absorb all that its trying to gift
all of these people
            that we coexist with, yet have never met
they are out
           LIVING THEIR OWN LIVES
           EXPERIENCING THEIR OWN EMOTIONS
           LOVING THEIR OWN PEOPLE
and we have no idea of each other's existence

the only way i know how to live my life is to tackle it head on

i used to sit on my bed
   in my room
       and stare at my computer screen
            any tv show i could find
                i would watch for d.a.y.s. on end

but one day i woke up
and i realized that that wasnt really living my life
i was taking a break
escaping into another reality that was simpler than my own
one where i didnt exist, but i wasnt quite dead either

but i knew that wasnt my idea of living

my idea of living was experiencing the wholeness around you
all of the agony and torture
all of the jealousy and mistrust
all of the infatuation and true love
all of the ease and satisfaction

it was all just one long adventure and the only way for me to enjoy it
was to let it engulf me
and glide along for the ride

i called from my bed
seated at the edge between the darkness of blue
and the shades of yellow too
shining down on me so deliberately
vying for the attention of the absent girl

i called for my lover
rooted in the letters that spell his name
i felt the fragile ache in my heart
he was gone and i was alone
it was not a particularly new feeling
just one that i could never rid myself of

i called on the phone
waiting for a ‘hello?’
getting only in return
the swift motion of a dial tone
BEEP BEEP BEEP
never had i felt so disconnected from someone
in a world filled with so much technology

i called from my throat
waiting for the words to escape into the thin air and
find him with their power
twisting and winding all around him
to let me know that his heart was as vulnerable as mine
but i only received the cowardice of my own muteness
not a single sound willing to escape
not a single tear willing to fall

i called lastly from my heart
loud and projected around
the great unknown and vast undiscovered
the call swam through oceans
and climbed through forests
glided on ice
until, it fell to its knees

the reason i could not find him
was because his heart belonged to someone new
no way of contacting someone
when they were only .once. true

i am so unbelievably angry with you
youve got everyone convinced that you are the most beautiful and kind soul the universe has ever spawned
but i know the truth
i know the truth about you
i know that you used to hit me out of anger you refused to control
i remember you sprawled out on the floor screaming of death
i remember when you prepared yourself for the end
and said it was all for me
you said it was all for me
then why am i so angry with you?

tell me again that you love me
i love to hear people lie
because you don’t know how to love
i cant say that i do either
but, i know that love isn’t supposed to feel like this

love isnt supposed to manifest itself as paranoia
nawing at your every thought
or jealousy
overriding your functions like that little green monster

love is not these cruel things that you do

i look for inspiration
in the trees that shed a layer of skin
when the autumn light shines itself
upon them

i look for inspiration
in the sun's wave 'goodbye'
as an eventful day comes to
an end
and the moon's wave 'hello'
as an eventful night
begins

i look for inspiration
in my father's actions
towards the friends who stole his life
and the white men who arrested him
for speaking to his daughter in his native language
inside of a toy store

i look for inspiration
in my mother's heart
as she willingly places it
in the hands of every person who
is fortunate enough to meet her
whether they deserve it or not

i look for inspiration
in all of the beauty that surrounds me
at every direction

this is why i dont look for inspiration
in myself
i am the foul darkness that infects the golden light
everywhere it goes

so please, do not be surprised
that i can write about everything
except myself
and please, do your best
to understand my condition

that's all i can ask

i want to write
but, not just anything
i want to write beauty
i want to write poetry that transforms people
i want to write so exquisitely that when a person who doesn’t love, or rather show love, reads my work, theyre overwhelmed with emotion and passion and love
i want to change people’s perspectives on the world.
i want people to fall in love with the delicacy of life and the human race, the way that i do everyday
but how, how can i write all of this grace when im so angry?

anger is the least graceful emotion
and im angry all the time, at nothing specifically
im just angry
sometimes i can feel myself getting angry in my stomach
it starts in the pit
then it travels up and up and it feels like its consuming me
and my chest gets tight and
i cant breathe
and i can feel the blood hastening its flow through my veins
my head burns like someone set me on fire and i lose control of my body
it feels like the air flow to my brain has been disconnected.

i become a ball of energy
no longer able to control its own thoughts, feelings, emotions, movements
or anything for that matter
how can i breathe my own words into other peoples hearts
if i cant even get myself to breathe air?

i dont like the person i become when im angry.
its as if i forget im human and i turn into a machine whose only purpose is destruction
i get scared of who i am when im angry
i get scared to hurt someone. not physically, but emotionally, i am so mortally terrified of scarring someone else’s heart
emotional scarring doesnt heal like the scarring of the flesh, it stays, constantly reappearing in your frontal lobe, all the time.
who am i to bestow that kind of pain on someone else?
no one, i am no one.

i want to write
beauty
passion
misery
emotion

i dont like who i am when im angry

inhumane

destructive

i want to do better.

i will do better.

taking time to learn from your mistakes
the mistakes ive made in my past
i spent two and a half hours facing my bedroom mirror
im not faceless
yet i feel as faceless as a jane doe
fighting to discover the lost identity
that can only be found be found in the depth of her undiscovered haze

lost i wander from ocean to ocean
looking for the fateful creator
one who learned of the existence of a failure and decided never to look back
leaving a melancholy trail to follow him
drips of sadness mark where he has been and where he wishes to go

can the darkness that looms about him ever dissipate?
it is the duty of those around him to question why his simple sadness never fades
they question, but the root of his depression will never be made public information
no soul would ever learn of his betrayal
and i, would continue to wander aimlessly from ocean to ocean

when will my body give away to the .cruelty of nature surrounding?
harsh winds and streams of cold blue vend me
until i am one and the same
i will never rest
a lost sense of self has doomed me
there is no way to survive if i am not sure of who i am
because then who am i living for?

is it the strange girl who burrows daggers into my eyes when i look into thee mirror?
or am i simply living for the sake of those around me?
how about those who have abandoned me?
i am living without quite understanding why

so what is the next step?

clinging onto reality
dont want to be lost
if i am, ill never find my way back
never want to lose myself again,
already so lost
cant find anything to help me

maybe reality isnt the best idea
ill try and leave it behind, after all
if i am alone ill think of you and get tangled in my thoughts
lost from reality

i get it
i really do
when you tell me that it feels like
your mind is playing tricks on your heart
fumbling around with the fragile little strings
ruining the perfect harmony of the puppet show inside your mind
tangling the strings
talking away their ability to act our their designated parts
but the show must go on

i get it
i really do
when you say that your lungs are distracted
they cant focus on their jobs and just let you breathe
they stop pumping air at random times
like you used to forget to turn off the stove sometimes
when you were cooking him dinner late at night
and the smoke would full up the whole kitchen and the fire alarm would blare
but you would just swat the broom at the fire alarm on your ceiling until it shut down
youve got to stop neglecting dinner

i get it
i really do
when you say that youre fed up with it all
and you hate the world almost as much as you hate yourself
theres no point in living when youve given up
theres no way to heal when youve
reached the point of no return

i get it
i really do
because im there right now too
and i havent found the answer yet
i know that neither have you
so let me hold your hand while you hold mine
and we can sit in piles of snow while we let the feelings fall out

we can do it every day
until we decide to get up and build a snowman
or make angels with our bodies

for right now we can sit
and remember that we have each other
you can live for me and i can live for you

just until we crack the puzzle of living for ourselves

my mother told me that
a woman’s prized possession
is her hair
that it defines her
and all of her beauty emanates
from it
but i didnt agree with her
so i shaved my head

“i love you.”

sorry, wrong number.

On the drive back home i tried to make sense of your presence
You weren't here or there or anywhere
But i could still hear your lingering footsteps pacing past my door
The uneven rhythm of pounding against the floor

thud THUD THUD thud thUD

Were you trying to control your demons?
Or at least trying to keep them at bay?

I could hear your footsteps getting louder and louder AND LOUDER
UNTIL IT FELT AS IF MY HEAD WERE TO EXPLODE
But then you would constrict your muscles using every last ounce of power
To stop yourself from moving

You weren't here or there or anywhere
Except for my imagination

i would like to say that i love you
but i am still not quite sure what love is
is it the way your stomach fills with air
and your tongue swells up to take the entire capacity of your mouth
and your legs go limp?

or is it when your heart aches so much that it
bursts out of its place and lands on your finger tips
then it stops beating and you lie in the sheets
waiting for something to happen?

or is it when every word that seeps
out of their mouth is like
sweet honey
that you crave so badly
and when they speak it overwhelms
all of your senses at once?

is it all of these things?
or could it be none of them at all?
i would really like an answer
i would really like to know
because i still dont quite understand it

and no one seems to understand it either

if i shut my eyes and open them again
could i appear somewhere else
somewhere brighter, kinder
somewhere that birds sing and winds are soft

if i shut my eyes and open them again
could i find peace ?
please, i am desperate for resolve
these headaches, they rip through me

if i shut my eyes, maybe i will not open them again

little black shorts latched
onto legs thats stumble
as they walk
those legs are at a loss for feeling
numb, and the girl can feel her arms slightly more

hands out, car door open, legs in

little brown paper latched onto hands that tremble
as their fingers shift
on his own lap
those hands are numb
and the boy can feel his feet slightly more

lighter out, paper lit, smoke in

little black shorts catch ash and soot as she grows more and more numb
every body part
just short of defying gravity everything physically numb floating
except for emotions

exhale in, exhale out, pass

little brown paper
fizzled out in hands
that no longer knew
the difference between reality and dreams everything physically numb
except emotions

little black shorts unzip trembling hands move in
a longing to be numb floats between the two