It's not fair of me to go with my gut
because my gut has also told me
that I am a failure and I always will be
that I've lost my mind and can't even see
how ugly I am, and how I'm better off dead
My gut is the awful voice in my head
It has said I should bleed and lick razors all night
that I need the dark because I can't handle the light
It tells me to cry when I should be smiling
When I should be awake, it makes life too tiring
I've thought of getting rid of it - so it can no longer say
but that's exactly what it wants - for me to decay.

just wondering if maybe i could be the small gust of wind that blows through your hair one day when you're happy

I've been listening to the same song on repeat
feeling how ***** my teeth are
and instinctively pointing my aching feet to the wall
sniffling with sickness and sneezing with crap
you still kiss me like I'm your supermodel.

i miss you
steady guitar riff in a loop
tucked behind my ear
you trace your fingers there
i fall asleep with a smile

thinking maybe this will be okay, i just have to let it.
smelling your cologne
your hand grabbing mine,
it means something different
(feels more important)
(and everything minuscule I ever got upset about is so dull now)

i think i could make it a habit,
black clove cigars
and puffing in and out poison to pass the time
(at least make me a little bonier)
and one day i'll strap a flask to my thigh
and practice taking sips without scrunching up my nose at the taste.
For some reason, self-destructive tendencies are appealing
which makes me a ******* *******
and an idiot
but as long as i'm entertained

you've led me to believe that i can count on you
to mean what you say-
every "i love you" I've learned not to doubt.
so i'm sorry that last night and today
the little things you said but didn't mean
made me worry about the big things you say but tell me to believe

I am in the middle of a thunderstorm
but not nearly naked enough
not nearly happy enough
but letting the rain wash through my hair and sprinkle across my arms
because I am finally realizing
that I have been bored for so long, now.

And I need a ******* change.

sometimes i look at skinny pictures and think to myself,
i wish i starved myself or threw it up
tomorrow i'll drink more water and eat less food
because i don't want to impress anyone,
but i want to feel that small under big shirts
and i want to wrap up into a ball
and i want to look fragile but
i don't want to be fragile...
and so i remind myself
to be strong is hard when i'm making myself small

I am always writing down a bunch of stupid drafts and blueprints
just to write **** down.
I don't want this as a reminder,
I don't want to talk about it,
I don't want to look at it too many times,
but I'll let you read it and you can think what you want of all of these things you'll grow tired of
(me, soon you'll get tired of me, and you'll be especially tired of me saying you'll get tired of me.)

-I could probably make a lot of new friends right now, friends for the night. high me iss so good at talking
-what was the last thing i texted? I hope i didn't send that to you
-I want to show you these sometime so ewe can laugh at how stupid high i was. but i feel like you'd disapprove of this or something. if you were here i'd like this dream more. is this a dream?
-But my heart is in my throat and everything feels fake or too real, way too real and i bet i'm super annoying to you.
-I looked in the mirror and saw my mouth smile but i thought it was open and blank
-Feels like there are strands of hair covering my eyes and half of my brain is stuck between each rib i think i could reach down my throat and feel it
-Can't tell if we crashed and are riding to find out what exactly happens when you die
-can't remember if bailey actually ever decided to like me or i've just been pretending he does maybe i have been dreaming
-eww if i let him read this i'll regret it and he'll think i'm lame
-Eeven more now because i said that hahah
-Brush my teeth, go ***, wash my face, ibuprofen, don't grab your lighter to your skin, go to bed, fall asleep, wake up without the lag
-God life is weird i don't know what i want out of life "you can choose what you do with your life, but you can't choose what life does with you."
-I bet *** right now would feel amazinggg right now in his room on the floor probably
-My eye sockets look and feel sooo deep/far back and have i ever moved from this spot in front of the mirror
-**** me for sending you messages tonight ahhh it's probably too much ahh i feel annoying
-Wait did i send you those messages did i write tht down what have i been thinking (god what have you been of me)
-I wish you had gone to the party, all those guys would have loved you. there was jamming and everyone was as drunk and friendly as the guy you met camping that oput his cigarette in between the strings of your guitar
-ask bailey to Go to hector's falls and the observatory on wednesdays where you can see Jupiter at
-The puppet can't pull its own strings but **** am i trying to

nothing feels more real than movement
than that dance floor
than my sore muscles and aching bones
than my inevitable heart break when life doesn't turn out the way I had hoped.

I've been told that the stars will be falling tonight
but nobody taught me how to catch one.

every night i shower and brush my teeth and shave and try to look cute in my boy-short ******* and big flannel shirt because every night i hope i'll sneak out to see him
but i don't
and i miss him
and my chest aches

i think i'm going to go buy a lighter and something to smoke
and i'm going to put eyeliner on
grab my headphones and take a walk in the woods

focus on yourself
focus on yourself
focus on yourself
because no one else will focus on you as long as you hoped

thought i might die tonight
am surprised to see myself still normally alive -
through the loopy tracks of a roller coaster panic attack
i thought mostly of you
so i could calm myself down
(also thought of all the food i was stuffing in my mouth
to keep me busy, keep me distracted
probably gained that six pounds back already)
anyway,
you're a good guy to dream about

an apple a day
maybe one, here or there
an apple a week
a cigarette a day
(well, that's what the movies say)

i know i start things in fragments
or in the middle of a sentence
beginning with "so" or "but" or "and"
i know sometimes i leave things hanging
because some nights i walk out the door still not having
any poems come out of my mouth
and i get in my car and just can't quite figure it out
anything i write anymore is a love poem (oops)
but when i look in your eyes all i can think to say is "i love you," i guess
nothing too poetic
yet the way you say it
is what structures my poems

(it's not that i don't want to speak in stanzas,
but take it as a compliment that sometimes your eyes make me dizzy enough not to think straight)

that's the sad and tragic thing about people who feel compelled to write things down -
we spend a lifetime trying to figure out the right way to explain what it felt like to look into his ******* eyes

and all he did was look through mine

In some moments, parts of me are dead
the parts that feel love and lust
the parts that drive me, that make me want to succeed,
that make me give a ****.
In some moments,
all of those wonderful parts of me disappear
and I am left with the part of me that wants to stare at a blank wall until my own blood covers it up.

i'm sleeping on spilled coca-cola
throbbing headache
thinking of your boxer/briefs
and thinking of the lake
sometimes life is so ******* cool it makes me want to stay for a bit

your ******* ******* hips
i'll never sleep
because thinking of you
keeps me licking my lips

I press the wrong keys and lay my head on your chest, missing you ahead of time because I know you'll have to leave. Your kiss tastes like winter, but my living room smells like fire,
and I don't know what that combination makes, nor do I know where I fit in.

2. I told myself I'd go to sleep
    but all I am doing is staring at this ******* screen.

3. Are we intertwined yet because all I can imagine is the branch I have for arms, the leaves for fingers, I've got a big *** trunk heart and you came along and drilled yourself a hole right in the middle of me so you could live in there.
You know, the hole stays with me, but you won't have to.

full stomach, aching chest
i try again to push my fingers through the screen of my phone
(i just want to brush my fingertips against yours while we call)
i am full of desire
for conflict = love vs. lust, joy vs. death
meaning
i'm not quite sure what i want some nights,
but i always want to be next to you

love poems make me nauseous sometimes, looking back at all the past ones i wrote thinking the feeling might last
but naively, perhaps, i'll say that you feel very different  
i'm not afraid either way...
(okay. afraid of losing you, too)

been thinking more about cigarettes
cigars, really (false sense of health)
gotta have something to do with my hands
but its an interesting thought, pointless.
sticky-scented, rearranged, row of wicks
bags pulling my top lids
reaching out my hands to the chipped paint on the ceiling
fingers ache
bellies too
5am ready for bed but aching aching aching

been thinking more about cigarettes
cigars, really (false sense of health)
gotta have something to do with my hands
but its an interesting thought, pointless.
sticky-scented, rearranged, row of wicks
bags pulling my top lids
reaching out my hands to the chipped paint on the ceiling
fingers ache
bellies too
5am ready for bed but aching aching aching

//my feet smell
//my head hurts
//i wish i was with you

rethinking of all the water in my lungs
(when i drowned or when i wasn't sober enough to know the difference)
i tried to inhale
coughing out half-words, choking on sentences.
if i concentrated, breathing didn't seem so hard,
but then i'd concentrate too much on the pins poking into my eyes
and squinting didn't help this time
were my glasses even on-
i pretended to listen to my brother but instead i was listening to you and you weren't even there
and that's ****** because one day you really
won't even
be there
so when my hands are grabbing at my collar bone
no one will tell me not to worry, it's just a panic attack,
all anyone else ever says is,
"sorry. don't think about it"

I want to get a little drunk,
sit on a couch and **** on lollipops
I want to look thin and fuckable, unstable,
I want to make eye contact while my hands are spread on card tables-
you pick up the jack, I swallow the ace
my mind is stuck in quite the mixed up place

His purple lips greeted mine in a dream, once
His pale hands pull me from the air, so my feet land firmly in the grass next to my grave.
The white dress I wear blows up against my skin,
I can feel
but I am not alive
If I could blush, I would.

My skin itches.
It's trying to crawl away from me,
out of this room
into the bathroom or kitchen or any place with a blade
because I am not empty,
but my mind is playing tricks on me
and everything is an addiction.

I am something like destructive.
I am lies and hunger and razors and headaches.

Mom, i think i'm starting to like this boy
I'm afraid and ugh, ****, mom what the hell??
I didn't realize that life would be this cycle of careful steps people take, walking on shards of ******* glass
because if you're not too careful
you are going to get hurt.
I used to be so bold without question
I was fearless about feeling
today, I have never been so scared
me, to my mom, whispering:
(but i'll be bold anyway, okay? i still prefer all the fuss of butterflies with someone)

I think I'd write a poem about today
About the back seat of my car
Or the color of your eyes
Or even the fingerprints on the door windows that are only seen if you look close enough...
But I've been having trouble with words, lately
Especially when I'm sneaking glances at your lips

tipsy in bed
ate too much and admiring old photos of last summer, last winter
i never thought i was skinny but these photos look so slim
and then i tried to eat more this year, thinking too little would make me weak (even though i was strong)
and now I binge and restrict then binge
it's all so stupid and pointless
and i'm fine
but i looked better when i was ****** up

i don't like the game where we all pretend we can figure each other out
(we can get pretty close)
but stop predicting my future -
if i wanted my ******* palm reading,
i'd have put my palm against yours and held your hand

bones creak
like doors opening
when they break
and I only know this because once I carried my twin brother home after his foot crushed in half
he fell off the monkey bars and cried.
I've never broken a bone, but I've felt broken

It's so dark,
the only light spinning,
and your eyes don't look through me.
You see me clear.
Your lips make their way down my body and back up again, and I wish you could
stay longer,
stay the night,
stay with me.
"I don't want you to go," I say,
and the light keeps spinning,
your face green then blue then red,
and I'm tangled up in you beneath my gray covers,
the most comfortable I've ever been.
"I don't want to leave," you reply to me,
quiet words because our volume shrinks as we dig deeper into truth.
I never know if I always say the right things,
and I know I don't always do the right things,
but sometimes you make the world feel right
and I feel like I am included.
Like everything shifts and falls into place
and I no longer need to want,
because there is nothing out of my reach.

Then you kissed me goodbye at my front door
and went home, a little late.
I bit my lip
walked up the stairs
fell into my chair,
and my brother walked in, saying,
"Do you know how fragile this world is?"

an interesting flavor, an interesting smell
sometimes i still catch the drifting scent of my first kiss
i can't help but wonder
"how many people in this life am i going to miss and
miss and
miss"
I don't remember any other version of myself and that's terrifying, but I'm also scared that I don't really know what version I am currently presenting
How do you know if you're not real
(**** me to help me not think about it)
(But pls still love me after, so I can hear your reply)

sometimes i worry
but when you put your arm around my shoulders
it's easier to shrug off any nerves
so i forget about my worries

hot water
hot thoughts
I'll never
get caught
never ever
want to stop
I'll never
get caught-
Blood, run down my thighs,
Blood, make me feel alive,
Blood, give me some time
to look at you.
I'll never ever
stop
I can't ever
stop
I don't want to
stop
please stop
please...stop

i don't even remember you, but when i was 17, i thought i'd remember you forever
thought i might know you forever
...
remember being that young
and having that naive buzz of finding out a boy thought you were cool too?
i don't believe in forever anymore
but it doesn't matter,
no one has that long

Ugh god I write such lame things down and I'm not sure why I keep doing it
I think I just like that you read it or I like the fact that I get to
And most times writing it down makes it settle in my brain so it doesn't whir around at lightning speed this late at night, preventing me from shutting my eyes
But I keep writing of you and you're still on my mind, that's not fair
I like to think about you making sure the blanket is on me or about the angle I see you from and how the light hits you there, sometimes it'll catch a few Rays in between each eyelash. Sometimes I accidentally think too quickly about the future and I get a bit scared wondering who I'll talk to if I can no longer constantly bug you (****)
But I look myself in the mirror and tell myself to chill, I've got time, and when time runs out, I'll figure it out
I'll handle it

It's 3am and I'm thinking about how I'll miss you a year from now
I wonder

Bodies smashing
lights flashing
skulls crashing against ***** sinks
and kids are snorting another line because what else is there to do but die.
I'm in a tight black dress,
one I starved myself into,
one I grind in
with empty dreams of ballet shoes
and you are not here anymore, because only fools have *** with an empty shell of a girl,
and we both know that you have never been a fool.
I stare at the red glow of the ceiling and watch my red flow down the drain
while I blink
to see your smile
to see a million smiles
I blink to remember that I smiled once, too.

Around 1300 calories today (1305, I don't need to guess)
Burnt a hole in my best leggings with accidental ash
(I'd let you put your cig out on my arm)
(If you came to visit)

Hands brush our skin
in hopes of feeling something again-
all we feel is the wind
and they're left with empty chests.

it's okay
lately i try to stretch out my eyes, thinking maybe if they roll back into my head enough times i'll stop daydreaming nightmares
and it hasn't been so bad lately.
today i only dreamed of climbing trees and bee stings
and your eyes after they stopped looking at me

if i had to list my three favorite movies,
today i might say: Across the Universe, Donnie Darko, and The ****** Suicides
(basic *****)
mainly for the aesthetics
the way the camera or lighting makes the scene
and i have colors stuck in my head from my own life images,
mostly pale blues
all in your room
(the comforter, the hue of the tv screen, your eyes)
it's all about angles, and i get the perfect view while perched on your chest
wish all the colors and lighting from the scenes in my head reflected more in my actions, you'd never get bored of me then.

Keep me in your back pocket
just in case you figure yourself out enough
to let someone new in

(maybe I'll take my own advice)

The coolest part about the open door to my house-
Our unlocked, hardly ever closed front door-
Is that someone random always walks in right in the middle of me throwing a fit
Right in the middle of any breakdown I'm having
Someone always walks in on time to think "what a *****"
This isn't a ******* poem
And who even ******* cares
(This is me talking to the internet because no one in real life wants to talk to me)