I could draw the shape of your eyes over and over inside my head
The smooth curves of your lips
There's a softness that welcomes my long days.
I am willingly chained to your unblemished heart
My song, my sun, my God.

Blue fish, please help my heart
Its drowning in my stomach
Broken down by acid and disease
Churning to force the rose petals that come out of my mouth
There's not enough for us but
For him, seep out of his pristine white box
In excess.

Blue fish, your colors are soft to my aching eyes
Swim and take me with you
I'm restless,
The water will be warmer
Where you go, there's nothing to lose
But the scales from your thin fins.

Blue fish, I hope to become you
When it's time to swim away.

Relinquish and release their heart beats from my back.

Some days I feel as if I don't know myself, not one bit,
Because I don't know you.
I don't know what you were like when you were weak.
I don't know what you were like when you were wrong.
I'm trying to grasp onto a fragrance of you,
of me.
I cant find you anymore, or hear your faint voice
or feel the prickliness of your unshaved thighs on my cheek.
All I have now are cut strings that traced back to you before your eyes went blank.

A strange man answered your phone and told me to go home.

The world today
Stopped in mid-spin
Fed up with the shape
That man's put her in

Gone on too long
With his selfishness
Putting a stop to it all
The world thinks is best

From the building up
To the tearing down
The ever persistent
Obnoxious sounds

With no peace at all
In cities or towns
Over hill over dale
In leaps and bounds

From the arguments
That always ensue
The world's had enough
Of me and you

The blue of the streams
Now brown and green
When the world tries to breathe
It comes out a sneeze

Which creates havoc
Throughout the land
From earthquakes to tornadoes
North, South, East, and West

That's why the world today
Stopped in mid-spin
Putting all of this nonsense
To a bitter end

Now all the world does
Is float out in space
Peaceful and relaxing
Without the human race

I really hate that everyone looks like pieces of you.  
Skinny hands, ***** fingernails, thinning hair and yellow skin.
Stomach acid bubbles up and the bitter taste of your lying words surfaces on my tongue.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand tall when the stench of your black stain, lingers, unwashable, even when I bleach myself to death to rid myself of your impurities, you goblin.
You have given me no satisfaction, let me live loosely,
I would crawl a mile to you, knees bleeding, pleading you to release me,
Remove the destructive fear of looking any man in the eye anymore.
You don't exist but in a stale memory of a time I wanted to go back to someday.

But not today.

It’s been awhile since I've had one. I try to push it away when the slightest things seem to light the fire, burning everything down I've worked so hard for. Most days, I come home fine and feed my fish, make dinner and live the life i deserve. I deserve it, i gotta keep telling myself that. It used to be so much worse though, oh god. So much worse. Each time my head explodes, I always hope it’s the very last time. The very last time or i can’t do this anymore. Or so i think, anyway.
By then, I can’t bear to nurse this succubus any longer, and cannot handle the leech ******* off my stability. My life is constantly dancing on a tight wire; balance and don’t let go.
Don’t fall apart.
She comes for me still, and I have some hope that she will die in some nasty trainwreck or even better, taken hostage by some scaly aliens in a world I can never get to. And when she comes, she takes everything from me. I’m not doing well enough, i didn’t do anything to accomplish the goals i have, to have achieved everything i could ever want in life.

Anxiety has a way of making everyone feel less than, or things that could not have been farther from the truth. Tonight it came to me, in a rush episode followed by bouts of extreme sobbing, trembling, mania, and telling myself to let everyone go because I make their lives miserable. My head will try to poison what good I have here. I believe my significant other can do better, way better, and why isn’t he? Why am i not making him? I will sit there and question him and trap myself to really assume he actually does not want me, only pities me. And for that, I must make him go. Run away, please, get away from me and hide because i’ll look for you. I’ll look for you and scream your name so loud my ancestors will hear it. Don’t come back. You are better off without me, without my low self esteem and my fits of rage. You are better than this, pristine and godly and I am utter trash. Tell me to go f*ck myself, hate me and say you never want to see me again. I will have won and lost at the same time.

She tells me I am a disappointment to my family’s name, weak and small. My energy drains in picking up every phone call from my mother only to tell me she knows I've been busy, but they are still there waiting for my call. She doesn’t really mean that though. What she really means is she’s upset at how busy I am, how I never see them, and how I never turned out to be the daughter they lost. I will never be her but I will live my life and die trying, so hard that my veins will protrude from my neck in frustration. No no, that’s all wrong, it got to be all wrong, I tell myself. Two sides of my mind that battle to the death, coming up with every fake persona to please. All I want is for people to like me. What a ridiculous idea, isn’t it? What matters whether or not someone that I will never meet again cares about what i think? Or even yet, my own blood, as it is my life and absolutely nobody else’s? That’s just it though. It’s everybody else’s. I am everybodys and I am nobody’s. The only thing I belong to is her, the only thing I try to break free from.
Someday I will give up, I say.
I will not.

It’s too bad that I am doomed to share my life with the deceiving entity that is anxiety. Fear, what grasps on tightly around my neck, squeezing slightly tighter after some time. Gradual, like it should be. I have no social outings and have decided to give up on them, seeing as I am too afraid of disappointing. That’s all i ever do, it seems like. Or so i thought. Of course, once it bangs me up and leaves me in bruises, do I then realize it was never really there. I am free, I think, even just for a moment. My lungs release the liquid inside and I gulp a large amount of air. I sob quietly on my bedroom carpet, hoping and praying to whatever nonsense is out there, that my loved ones have not given up on me. I turn to see my SO and he was right next to me the whole time, waiting for it to pass like a seizure that he can do nothing about. Wake up, it’s time for the next episode of your life, you idiot. This is all the moment you get. Be free.

“Give me the winner, this time! Last week you played me like a fool. I’m done ripping up these tickets, guy.”
The man behind the counter laughed, a big billowy kind that would bring forth rain clouds.
He printed out the next ticket and wished her good fortune. She walked away, bow-legged with a grin on her face. She knows it this time. She feels it, the adrenaline radiating through her weak body, worn down from all the pampering and dry-cleaning she had done for other people.
Other people. How she longed to be other people. The other people had a home, a simple life, songs from their time blasting through their speakers. I can’t keep up with this, she thought to herself. Her dreams were shattered forever and eternity ago. She was going to go places, boy, did she have it all figured out. Planned, organized, obsessing, obsessing, recycling herself like a ***** grocery bag to squeeze every last drop of glimmer she had left in herself.
This is the winner. She knew it would be. She’s aged oh so much more than she had anticipated, her skin dragging lower and lower, as if the devil himself was pulling her to hell, her destiny. There isn’t much time left for this one life, this only forgotten life.
She kept on walking, chin up and tears surfacing. As always, the clerk dutifully waiting until she could no longer see him, if she ever did at all.
“See you next week.”