I love how the ocean puts me at ease
How the sand kisses my toes
How the wind feels so strong
Almost as if someone's wrapping
Their arms around me
How I feel so secure
How no one can hear me
How I'm all alone with nobody
And nothing but the breeze

I love how cold it is
How free I am
It almost feels like bliss

I love how the ocean
Can almost be like a dear friend
That has always been there listening
Never pretending like everybody else

I love how no matter how many times
The seasons have changed, it always
Tells me that everything's going to be okay
No matter how strong the waves
How violent or aggressive they may be
It was always there, to calm me
Keeping me from harm
From everything it knew of me

But I hate the thought of not knowing
That it has always been there
And will forever be

I hate how unappreciated I have been
That not a single hello or thank you
Ever passed through me
Not even a smile of gratitude
To satisfy the bliss that it has given to me

I hate how my last moments
Were with you
How you kissed my toes
With the sand that will become me
How you embraced me with your
Last bliss
Making me as secure for the journey

I hate how when I finally gave away
And closed my eyes
I only realized that you've always been there
Waiting for a reply
For a last goodbye

But I love how you still accepted me
Despite the circumstances
You took me without hesitation
Without regret
Without hate
Just love
Enough to put me at ease
Enough to keep me awake
Even after all these years
Because to you, I was always a friend

And you

My therapy


n.j.

I want to die

And that's not just a saying
I want to rip my lungs out
And stop myself from breathing
I've grown to hate not love
The so called "temple" He gave me
Day by day, always at thought
Accompanied with only the beauty of death
And the overwhelming feeling of envy
I'm tired and I just don't know
How to keep this facade on longer anymore
I'm sick in the head
But no one seems to care
I'm tired of the mistakes
And of the people who are never there

So I'm writing this poem
It's stupid I know
A bunch of useless thoughts
Put together for a final show
Maybe I'll be gone after you read the last word
Maybe I'll be crying to sleep again
Maybe I'll fantasize of shooting myself in the head
Maybe...

But I don't know

n.j.

I cried,
I wept;
My heart
You kept.

Yet still
You left
Without
Regret.

I do not wish to dream,
For dreams are illusionary life,
Peopled with phantoms of the living
Reflecting our awakened mind's
Fears, lusts, hopes.
Vanity flavours the subconscious.

There is no rest here.

When I close my eyes I pray for darkness.
I wish to escape into the black,
Silk tendrils of the lost tickle my fancy,
Easing my ever chattering mind
Into micro deaths of sweet silence.
I do not exist,
Neither do you,
Nothing.
It is here that I find comfort.

Solace in the forgetting.

I’m strong, I can stand
against the buffeting winds
that try push me down.

        (I’m weak, too easy I fall,
       giving in to the pressure
       that mounts from within.)

In the face of your discrimination,
I’m courageous
       (I fear your abuse)

Yes, I am strong.
Though my gnarled hands
bend with age,
my roots…

        (break, there is no
       vigor left in me)

Sighing...my mind twists
that which should grow
into a solid foundation,
turning it into

        (groans of pain,
       mental anguish.
       Weakness takes over)

A tired thought dances
through dim light,
bringing some joy
into the
  
       (bleak. All I see are
       shadows. Mocking shadows.)

Once I believed I had it,
an inner strength to deal
with anything.

        (Like a mirage, my spirit
       couldn’t grasp what it needed.)

Now I envision…
no, I see what I truly am.

My hands are wringing,
I’m cold...so cold.

I am
not
strong.

Why don't I ever talk about things that
        stress me out?
Because you don't understand.
You think you do,
but I know you don't.

If you lived just one day as me,
you'd do the same thing.
In fact, I don't think you'd survive.
Maybe you'd finally understand,

finally understand that I'm not afraid
to drive,
not afraid
to get a job,
not worried
to live for myself.

I never take charge and do something
        when I feel uncomfortable?
I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you.
I was busy telling off
every creepy man who comes my way.
I was busy reporting him to the police.
I was busy telling administration
that the person who should be looking
        out for her students
just told me flat-out I'd be nothing.
I was busy standing up to my coach
who played me so much, I'm in chronic
        pain.
I was busy crying as you yelled at me
when I told you something that
happened to me that
made me uncomfortable.

I'm sorry you feel that I don't tell you
anything anymore even though
you're my "biggest supporter"
and I "know it."
It's not like every time I talk to you,
it ends in my tears.
Sorry, "biggest supporter,"
that I don't feel comfortable
talking to you.

I felt very-well supported
when I told you you made me
uncomfortable because you make me
feel like a failure,
and you yelled at me and told me to
        get my act together
as you told me it's my decision,
not yours,
to do anything or not do anything.

My face is covered in salt
because of you.