the hesitation because of how it makes my blood run cold. the way it clouds up my eyes. the way we hold the world on our tongues or the truth or ourselves. the restraint. the internal fight of the clear outlook and the dooming silence. the way the beast grows inside. the way it /lingers/ over your shoulder. the ache. the way it grips your stomach.

and the regret

the way you miss the beast. the way you miss feeling alone in it's presence. the way you miss it's (my) claws gripping your neck and tongue and spine and brain. and you just want it back . .  .   .    .     .      .

how does it feel?
to be as beautiful as you.
I'm counting the folds in your sweater on your arm.
The moon is full and you never look at me, I'm too busy counting the folds in your hand as it grips itself.
The moon is full and you never look at me.
My fingers hover over the fold in your sweater-
how does it feel?
being a silent film masterpiece, yet
never letting your eyes speak. you never
looked at me or kissed me quite as hard.
how does it feel being loved as much as you are?

his face is so delicate
his cheeks are so ******* red

how i wish i could take the love i give you and make it visible outside of us so we could enjoy it together and plant it deep in healthy soil and watch it bloom so we both know what is true

I want rainy morning naps in sweaters and blankets. I want clumsy kisses in the doorway. I want a warmth from my chest and a happiness that radiates love. I want fingertips on the ridge of my back. I want that feeling in my veins. I want sunset kisses and long drives. I want a balance of love. I want hugs that tumble to the floor and laughing streaks under the covers. i want lips on my neck. I want love in my veins. I need someone..

I closed up inside.
started forming my armor.
Because when the night rolls around,
I got two things on my mind.
one is itself and the other is my body.
I wish I could tell you which is scarier.
sometimes it's the voices,
sometimes it's the mirror.
neither will help me see any clearer.
So I chain myself up.
inside and out.
I start with my heart, work towards my eyes until I'm blind.
pass the time
till the scars fade off the clock
till the sun rises
till we go around again.

I keep thinking that the reason I kept waking up that night was to see who it was sleeping next to me. I wanted it to be her, but I knew that was impossible. It was someone else + an invisible divide we were too afraid to break. I woke up much before she did + she looked so peaceful + gorgeous + too pure to be in the space with me. She rose much later + fixed herself up. We laughed a little and looked for a sock she lost underneath my bed. We searched but couldn’t find it. She explained the teas she made + slung her bag over her shoulder. She gave me a hug + then she kissed me. Gently… on the cheek. My heart started racing + I flashed back to December. The kiss on the cheek + then the betrayal. She left as I was living in a dreamscape that frightened me. maybe kisses on the cheek aren’t a good thing for me. They’re tainted with earthly lies.

When my tears stop falling over the “I’m sorrys”
When you’re asleep and i’m dying to be calling you
When it’s 3am and I haven't slept because I'm dehydrated and craving you
When I can have no worrys and have complete trust
When that ******* pixie dust does it’s job and
When the 11:11 wishes come true
When I don't have to lie awake and alone
When I don't have to shield my heart from destruction
When these walls can fall down
When I can trust in love
When I believe it's enough
When I can hold you
When 100 miles becomes 0
When you see me
When her and I become we
When we can watch the sunset in each other's arms and
When the promises are kept
When I see you
When?

there's this idea



and that's about all there is.

i'm
sorry

the lilacs are bleeding into the color of the sky and I can almost smell the apologetic feel in the atmosphere as you watch from across town and I imagine you whispering "i'm sorry"

sitting in the backseat watching their love.
pure,
clean,
together.
I stared into the stars and they stared at the road or at each other.
the Lumineers CD,
I wanted to sing along but
I didn’t want to sever the thread of silence and comfort tying them together.
As I watched her lean and put her head on his shoulder and he put his hand on her arm
I realized I missed R so much more than what I thought.
I wanted what they have.
Presence.
what a gift… taken for granted most times I think.
I laughed a little to myself when we were on the freeway and knowing that I was
fifteen minutes from your house and my heart
knew that we couldn’t stop.
I stared at the infinity wishing it could be as little as the space
they had between them in the driver’s and the passenger's seat
so when her and I kissed into infinity we could be together.
Sunsets can only be so long when you’re alone and in love. I’m reminded
of that almost every night.
and then her letter came.
I cried and held it and read it like the treasure it is and imagined what it’d be like to be
next to her sleeping and our cat
meowing like crazy because she sure as hell is not going to feed it.

words as windows,
screen protecting the fall.
Is the screen made of computer or woven mesh?
Lately, they seem the same.
Stopping me from falling into the abyss
that haunts me with that same darkness.
her eyes were the only light that food me and
showed me how to raise my hands to the sky, showing me to reach taller.
BUT I DIDN’T KNOW I’D BE RAISING HER UP LIKE I DO.
a glance into her brain proved too orange to bear.
I was too mint for her.

I want you to know I got home from work and I saw your house had a ton of cars out front.And I wondered about the last time I'd see your (her) car up front. Or the last time I'll feel your sadness. or the last time. but you are not yourself, you see. You're a slave to it. You're entranced by the euphoria of the past. You hate being alone. so much that you leave your friends for a little lingering feeling of love. A memory.  Pictures last longer and you have plenty of those. I made a copy of a poem for you that you may or may not have read. I realized my hand was stuck in the printer. whoops. I know you probably didn't read it or ever will read it. or this. but I have one question,

when are you going to become yourself again?
I don't know how long it's been since you've talked to or even met yourself as yourself. And I think I could've introduced you but I'm gone and you're farther away.
and I want to make myself throw up so you can actually see how ******* sick i am of your *******. I want to have a conversation in person so you have to see me as real. Not a picture-less "helena" or perhaps, now an email.
so you'd have to tell me why.
I need you to tell me why.
I think you owe me that.
you owe yourself that.

sometimes the world is all a line .

and sometimes it's a million tiny orange lights as i glide above the clouds.
the perspective of my life is brought to my attention.
the woman to my right has some anxious tendencies.
she’s been picking at her left fingernails for the duration of the flight thus far.
the woman to my left seems to be coming home to her man or a family member.
they’re both watching a movie that i have no idea about.
she seems conflicted..
right woman likes coke and cookies.
she is also cold/
she rolled down her sleeves and pulled out a light button up .
she attempted to cover herself with t.
left woman has beads on.
probably coming from a reserved celebration of mardi gras.

i dont know.

let it take you

i cried on the edge of the bed and you sat there
later taking me into your arms i pushed you away
i felt like i was screaming but i don;t know if you could even hear me
i was screaming on the inside, rather
screaming at myself

you grabbed me and hugged me and i felt on fire and so cold
i didn't feel at all.


let it take you

i couldve controlled myself and deep breathed but i was too
tired to control it so
here we were.
i cant help feeling like i did that to diffuse or if i did that to implode for once in a long while.

i sort of missed the screaming
at least i was honest with myself.

and then you finally reached into the turbulent waters and grabbed me from my sea of grey numbness. i felt warm in the dark and you followed me to the bathroom, i still felt on autopilot and you held me and i felt your chest shake like you were crying
but the lights were off and i couldn't tell.

i never wanted you to have to see me like that but it's happened too many times now and i still feel like im never there for you when you fall .  i want your vulnerbility in front of me so i can show you how much i love you. i want honesty in emotions and i want to know how you feel all of the time
i promise it's not me just being polite.
i want to know you at every second at every time in every feeling you have

your heart was fluttering i could feel it while i was buried in your chest and i wanted you to tell me what you wanted to

i think you sometimes share the feelings that i do but you feel like you have to be strong for me, please
once in a while

let it take you

i'll come in after you
we'll be better because of it and i know this is true
but the way you said i love you when it was through.

i really wanna ******* marry you.

using someone until they put


out





and thinking you're better than you are.





i don't care who's the one thinking it.

I know I said that I wouldn't write too much anymore but now it's all I can drag myself to do.
I almost called the suicide hotline 20 minutes ago because I was sad and the days seem to drag and I try to make myself look happy but I'm so ******* miserable underneath Especially on nights like these.
I sit and I cry and I cry and I cry and nothing helps.
I took a shower so hot that my entire body turned bright red and stood in it until I felt nothing. I picked up a pencil and tried to draw but my hand didn't move and I made eye contact with myself in the mirror and I cried again .
I hate the way I look when I cry, and that made me cry harder.
I want to eat again but that'd be the fourth time today and I'm too afraid to.
The kids across the hall are getting drunk and I can hear them stumbling around and I wonder what it's like to be them right now.
I'm not writing this to get attention, I'm writing this to get it off my chest.
I feel a little bit better now.
I'll be fine tomorrow.

I fear:
-not being able to give
-being all of a sudden ordinary
-the hours when i’m not with her
-not being enough
-losing her
-the letting go part
-for when she discovers I’m nothing but a skeleton
-a lack of purpose
-exploiting my weaknesses
-the contradicting thoughts that occupy my head some nights
-abandonment
-being anything less than worthy of her love
-being a no one
-being too big for my body

I remember when you told me.
I had to go back,
reread like I was editing a paper when
your final revision had been made.
My heart fell to the bottom of the ocean that held
the boat we sailed on.
My eyes still remember the salty water over hesitant moons and I
double over.
I crawl to the bathroom and say
“this can’t be true”
Dry heaving my feelings from my stomach and turned
to face a light.
Shield my eyes from the florescent lighting in
the operating room where
you were the surgeon and
I was the patient.
You ripped me one piece by piece but
I was under.
I couldn't see then but the scars from the
stitches made of your words reminded me
of the pain.
The medication, your eyes.
Seen once or twice a week over FaceTime
just enough to ease the hurt until-
the next time we saw each other and
prayed the distance would be removed.
but you didn't like the silence of the space vortex I tried to build around us.
So I kept my feet on the ground.
For you, of course.

I need someone to write me.



I know that it seems mad, but I’ve written her into my memory a thousand different ways and I never got the stain she left on my heart just right. at least I’ll just know that she's better than all those mindless love driven ramblings. No, I need someone to write me so I can see what i meant to them.
HOW COME I DID THAT FOR HER? SHE NEVER DID THAT FOR ME..

it’s not that hard to do i think.

a sentence,
a word,
a breath.
GIVE ME ANYTHING that strikes you as me.
a sense of purpose so i can believe in my life again. ive been trying to write myself but the **** pencil  
keeps breaking and i'm shaking too much from those pills taunting me from my desk drawer.

WRITE ME NOW,      i beg.
it seems the trees are my only friend and even those are dying. i can but belting loved by myself isn't enough
and these demons are getting stronger

sketchbooks are supposed to be for sketching,
but sometimes my thoughts come out in words or color.the shapes in my mind don't form worldly things and my brain can't comprehend itself.I am a dormant volcano full of anxiety and too much love for this world.I find comfort in the nothing that consumes me, for that it all I am.Dust, an insignificant particle in the eyelashes of society,I still pity myself and hope I disturb a tear just for my sorry existence, but it dries up in the barren desert of lies being fed to the masses.Sick of the monsters within. It's 1AM now and I’m the only one with a conscious thought of blood staining my veins with life. Oxygenated life.Held by the elements that we hold inside of us.I yearn for the release of sleep that will slingshot me around the sun again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, until the earth's pulse flatlines, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, until we are destroyed by creation, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, life to death, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, until death yields to creation, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again until it all stops….

I closed up inside.
started forming my armor.
Because when the night rolls around,
I got two things on my mind.
one is itself and the other is my body.
I wish I could tell you which is scarier.
sometimes it's the voices,
sometimes it's the mirror.
neither will help me see any clearer.
So I chain myself up.
inside and out.
I start with my heart, work towards my eyes until I'm blind.
pass the time
till the scars fade off the clock
till the sun rises
till we go around again.

It was a snow,
The type of snow that looks like glitter on the pavement.
My arms outstretched in the chilled air, hoping to catch myself.
But I fell ******* the ice, almost as hard as I fell for her.

If my brain bled visible colors in an outwardly tangible spectrum, they’d be dampened maroons and lifeless oranges. They’d drip like pools of broken glass built for thoughtless reflections and a trivial life question based on why my lungs want the oxygen so bad...

I departed the plane of my mind and passed by the baggage claim,
I did not want to carry my baggage anymore

eventually, we will find out that we did not take enough pictures to last those six months…
we will discover that exhausting those few that we had together will hurt a little more than not taking any.
when we've fought enough over words that could not be resolved over airwaves one hundred miles apart, and could have been stopped from rolling off your tongue by taking them into mine and when the comfort of passion can calm my nerves is when the pictures will mean something again.
the exhaustion of memories is driving us to meaningless pieces of earth dust and it's polluting our fire souls to the precipice of insanity.

Sometimes, I escape into a fake place of mind, where for some reason, I associate flying with freedom. but that;s for the birds because if they could speak, I think they’d scream, “Please Father! Let me rest on this earth!” “ Let me rip off my wings and rest like the people do!” and they’d try to let themselves plummet to the ground, but God would catch them with a breath of wind from his lungs, and their wings would catch onto it and they’d be frozen, floating and immaculate, gliding forever. Yet, i sit wishing that I could glide off this earth and take her with me so her feet would never have to touch this wretched dirt anymore.
sometimes, I escape into a fake place in my mind, where, for any reason, I associate flying with freedom. but when solace finds me and looks me in the face to give me my wings, I will scream and cry and gouge out my eyes. because I will not surrender my soul to a place that I am questioning and gives me starry mirror as an answer. to a place where birds are forever doomed to a life of being tired. Just let me escape into that fake place, where for every reason, flying is freedom and where the birds can rest, or please just let me drown.

The burning sensation after a kiss,
Pretty sure the burning isn’t supposed to hurt.

Please lend me your ear.

A gut feeling overthrowing my heart with its sour acid
A lurking anxiety attack at every moment our eyes meet

Please lend me your ear.

The anxiety attack blurring vision and lungs,.
The autopilot with no training.

Please lend me your ear.

A forced embrace, at the expense of my weakness to tell you we should have been over.
An uncomfortable exchange of false love

Lend me your ear

You’ll never know the pain of a forced lie
An unspoken truth chaining me to the edge of a cliff called insanity.

Lend me your ear

For it’s your ignorance keeping me from jumping.

“You'll feel better in the morning”

Just a reminder that I'm miserable now
spawning reasons not to wake up in the morning.
I don't know how to fix me.
I'm a disappointment,
I make decisions that make other wary of each breathe I take.
I can't figure it out.
The morning is a sick continuation of my idiotic composure of bones and tissue.
my failure to others.

“You'll feel better in the morning”

Empty promises.
As if I can be repaired with a few pieces of tape and a few embraces.
I promised myself with every change
comes a new appreciation
and a dream people will like me.
I guess both that and the statement are wrong.

I feel so different,
so out of time.

Good ‘Ol days expire like the milk
in a deadman’s refrigerator.

Time to grow up, time to leave it all behind.
Take this heavy load, 4 years to decide
the rest of my life.

Who will I be?
Do I know?
Do I want to know?
I don't think so….

Not to imply that life is a feast placed directly in front of the eyes
but it shouldn't be designed on the judgement
of a young adolescent who can’t tell love
from lust.

What if I don't want to grow up?
Who will save me?

Where is my Peter Pan?

they say there's smog in L.A.
but have you taken a look in my brain?
that one day when you yanked me into that room,
knowing you, I was afraid to enter.
because Alex was in the next one over.
I was headed there to play music so we could drop a boulder on our emotions,
just for those ten minutes.
I was one year older,
but I went by you anyway.
he didn't say much
to me the rest of the day.
I said yes because the pressure on me was more than a TV-
crew stalking me and my heart.
my emotions were fleeting and then you started to proceed in asking.
I SAID YES because of the smog was bowing thicker and I almost suffocated under your gaze.
I wanted to make you happy,
BUT HAPPINESS IS NOT A STATUS THAT I CAN
-“check yes in this box”-
around my thoughts.
so believe me when I say, that day messed me up
but I was waiting for the day for you to
turn away to someone else.
I needed to be me for once…

and so I told you,
again and again.
and only to your surprising dismay you realized that
I MAY NOT BE WHAT MY SHELL APPEARS TO BE.
that the pain in your voice caused me hell- I haven't slept well.
but you make ME out to be another girl,
leaving for a guy.
NOT EVERYONE IS THAT WAY.
had the connection been real
had the affection and your lips on my neck felt real
and made me FEEL SOMETHING,
then maybe I'd have stayed.
but no, so I'm the one to blame,
and honey… love is a two way game, and in this one
the winning cards weren't shuffled for you.
you said you UNDERSTOOD me and the way we'd be.
pain, it's visible.
IF you care,
you didn't stop hurting me there.
I SAW YOUR HURT because I was feeling it too.
you didn't dare take a look at me though. at any of me.
ME.
MY SHELL MAY LOOK LIKE IT’S DOING WELL.
but most days it held a near death entity.

so I'm an ex now…
okay.
I still hurt, but there's nothing I can say to make you believe
my pain is also valid.

I guess I never mattered...

I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence yet, but three hours after we ended our conversation at midnight, exactly 6 months from the last day I saw you. We were so naive and and and now, 6 months ago I should have kissed you. Maybe my feelings were rectified in the sirens for the tornado and the rain approaching my house. My heart was racing as I headed toward the basement, but not from eye contact, or physical contact, please let me touch her. I’m shaking from the detox of a love unlike myself. I’m not myself. and ****, I walked past a mirror and took a glance but the crazed animal looked back and I stopped breathing. It’s not me, It’s not me, GOD IT’S PROBABLY ME! So Jesus our Savior, let me drown in the fire, **** it. if i can’t have her and if I can’t have love, let the tornado consume me and her so I may have my heart race for a good reason one last time before I **** myself so I can actually die and stay dead rather than live on without a single ******* emotion in my head. **** this life, it’s been too long since I’ve seen her. and my eyes have lost their glow. How am I supposed to live with the storm within the animal I hold in my heart?

she was the type of girl you'd see in a park,
singing to the dandelions while strumming a guitar.
she was the type of girl to fall asleep next to her guitar
on bed of grass at the bottom of a hill.
magic in her fingers, she'd press her light frame to the grass
and force the darkness from her lungs into the earth.
magic in her eyes, mistress of the night.
banisher of spirits into the vacuum of space where
the only thing promised is eternal and infinite blackness.
magic in her lips, she kissed the fallen leaves
turning them to amber hues when the seasons get too cool for her life to flourish.
magic rattling through her bones when the winter nights are cold,
harboring flowers in her veins, she’d bleed to let them live.
magic in her blood, letting it drip to the mud
turning it auburn and burgundy.
she was the magic that is life
and the beholder of all things good.

please throw me into the fire.
I'm cold enough without your shade
and I may end up in the flames in the end.
so please friend, tell me what difference it would make.

and she was my light
she was my star, and sometimes stars die.
yet when stars die, they become a fountain of new light and color.
and she was my sun
she gave me warmth, she gave me life.
and she was the giver to everyone and their lost souls
because her eyes were my only salvation that banished the evil
and when her fingers brushed against my skin
my fear melted into the oblivion we've starved ourselves into.
and I was not worthy of her love.
and my heart is still cold and
my eyes are still shut behind lenses to dim her light
but why would anyone **** their savior?
forgive me father, I know not what I do.
but her spark is still there
in the midst of it all
a brewing cosmic explosion
a dynamic fusion of all her hurt