there are days where I sit and stare at myself in the mirror
picking apart every little flaw, every extra roll and
every bit that's not the right shape or colour
and I think, almost religiously,
that I am not good enough for you.

Becuase the truth is that I'm not.

You deserve sunshine and flowers on a summers day,
not a work in progress as dull as a winters night.

I say this to you and you pull your lips together with a sad smile,
look down at me
"But what if I prefer winter"

My boy that is not the point.
All I do is make you worry and I wanna be your sunshine but I just don't


I'm a work in progress.
I was shattered just before we met and putting the pieces together

And the things we don't talk about
things we shelve for a conversation in the

involves things that only
"I love you"
might be able to fix.

through everything
recovery is hard
and each and every day is a choice
I need to make
to be better
I'm not always strong enough to make that choice.

I just want you to understand
my boy
my lovely amazing

that sometimes I don't eat
and sometimes I want to die more than not
that anxiety is a being that rocks me
and sometimes I need the rush of pain
from scrubbing hard at my skin
or dragging a blade across it

it's not about you.
it's not something your presence is going to necessarily fix

But i want to try for you.
Maybe i can't be your sunshine
but maybe
i can be your cup of tea
your jumper
your girl
wrapped up in your bed sheets
on a cold winters night

you once said you had no problem
helping me pick up my messes
and if you stand by that

ill be your girl.
In whatever season you want me.
the unbalanced mixture
of that putrid smell
of stale beer and a
myriad of ashtrays
lingers through the air,
revolving records
snarling at me and
impatiently waiting
to play the overtures
six pack of tall boys
floating around in
a bucket of ice just
lolling in the cubes
like a dogs tongue
while the flies fly an
unapologetic patterns
that taunt me
under this dimly
flickering light in
this musky cubicle known
as my living quarters
it’s easier to go insane
than a dentist
committing suicide
and my vitality is depleting
out of me like a ghost
searching for a body
cigarette holes burned
into my favorite chair
that sits in the south corner
where I have wondrous
conversations with
my dead friends...
all one of them
outside those blinds
they think I’ve gone mad
the neighbors think
I’ve been driven to insanity,
the women across the street
who is cheating on her husband
with a younger man thinks I’m insane,
the little girl who swings in the
backyard behind me thinks I’m crazy,
the little Indian man who runs the
corner convenient store thinks I’m mad
nobody calls
nobody contacts
nobody wants to deal with the lunacy
I don’t blame them
in fact, I wish them well
I wish their profiles are all
monotonous and feasible
as they want them to be
it’s safer that way
silence is the scariest sound
I’ve ever heard
so I’ll sit here and have the
raw materials of madness
sit on my lap and share a bit
of laughter together
while we wait for better times
but like the taste of French fries
that have been reheated
in the microwave
its just never the same
but of course,
I never made it happen
Sleeping boy, how i wonder,
What goes on within your slumber.
What thoughts rave free,
In your mind of beauty?

Sleeping man, do you see?
The things that you are doing to me?
we are both unstable and insecure
But with the mentality you possess is something i cannot concur.

Anger and aggression,
Falls into pits of depression,
Rises again into mountains of happiness,
And climaxes filled with naughtiness.

Sleeping love, can you see?
The things your doing kills me.
a constant belittlement of self,
despite promises of seeking help.

Sleeping baby, please be happy.
I know i fail but it´s all i want.
As you sleep here next to me, i think i see,
the most peaceful thing in all of humanity.
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but my bones are strong and will heal.
words cut deep into my skin,
and the scars will always remain.

i throw rocks in my glass house,
and i throw glasses in my stone house.
i do whatever i want,
because in the end everything will always Break.
Fills my lungs
My rooms
My house
My world.

Torches my mind
My family
My love
My universe.

Consumes my heart
My thoughts
My body
My soul.

To me,
To you,
To everyone.
I'm stuck in a fiery pit of emotions.
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