im trapped behind a one-way mirror. the outside can't see me; i don't exist to anyone besides myself, but i can see outside. i can see reality and look at my surroundings and the blinding white all around and wonder why i can't be like everyone else. gravity has deemed me unworthy for its grasp, and i float throughout my padded cell, fingers scrambling to grasp onto the slick glass of the mirror i long to shatter. and so, i float away, unbound by reality and life.

i'm deteriorating. my cage feels as if its shrinking. i'm running out of time, but i don't know what for. i'm running away from what i owe the world, but what i owe specifically is unclear. yet, the feeling of looming dread continues, stirring cauldrons of anxiety in my chest. where i was once a blooming flower, i am rotting, i am decomposing into a mess of hollow bones and aching tears and i can't stop my heart from shrinking until it melts away.

i feel a longing for things i cannot have, for hearts with other loves and for people i cannot touch. i romanticize ideas rather than act them out; i bring nothing but delusion to the table. the moment i have i no longer want, and thus the toxic cycle continues. i wish to be broken, to be hurt and stabbed, for i am an emotional ******* and i want nothing but for someone to throw me away while i am still reaching for their hand. pound blooming bruises into my chest with your rejection, because, dear sir, it's what i like best.

i am a robot. i am only apathetic or hurting.

i wish to power off.

invasive thoughts
penetrate the solid protections
surrounding my mind
bribing the guards
with a touch of adrenaline
the only drug that fills their veins
"what if you jumped off?"
their seductive questions are appealing
i lean slightly over the edge
the fence restrains my body
"you should step over
it's okay, i've got you."
reassurances with no basis
but i continue anyway
i would've fallen that day
had someone not seen
a petite body
suspended between life and death

he is the manifestation of spontaneous elegance
****** features changing fluidly; reassuringly
actions are performed unhesitatingly
his positive optimism is punctuated by
an ever-cheery smile, forming his eyes into crescents
kind and benevolent,
he seems to bless a room with a simple entrance
so when he desperately avoids my gaze,
i wish i had done something different
a beautiful songbird like him
hadn't deserved to be kept in a cage with me
i'm glad he's been set free
yet i selfishly seek him out
longing for the trills of the sweet song
that is my former lover.

for right now my heart is achy,
breaky,
painful
as i am pulled
onto whatever path you see fit
it's become a tug of war
between pathos and logos
but i was overpowered long ago

is there a right way to love?
if there is, this isn't it
i'm filling my lungs with toxic gas
and my heart is melting slowly
but i've convinced my brain
to let it be
and tell myself
this poison is all for you

is there a right way to love?
i jumped into the sky
wings made of soft touches
and midnight calls
but you stopped supplying
what made me fly
and im hurtling to
the ground of harsh reality

is there a right way to love?
we crossed paths,
too early, too late
or maybe we were never
meant to reach a crossroad.

clumsily,
falling,
we tangle ourselves onto the bed

happily,
giggling,
we wrap ourselves into each other

stuttering,
blushing,
we meet somewhere in the middle.

when you tell me you like my poems
i wonder if you are scared for my mental health
i wonder that this glimpse into the dark twisted forest that is my mind
that you will run away from me
i wonder if you want to be involved with a mess
like myself
who rants through poetry by putting myself into the shoes of made up people with made up faces and made up scenarios
i wonder if you want to know what im really thinking
i wonder if your smile will disappear if i drag you into this neverending void of what am i doing what am i doing maybe i should die?
i wonder if you realize that what i say is fake and im just a really really good actor and maybe i should try out for hollywood im that good at faking my feelings
i wonder if you will read this and realize that yes this too is also fake i am putting myself in the shoes of a desperate lover with mental illness injected into their brain, an iv drip attached to their wrist feeding them pain and suffering instead of healing and love
i wonder if you will ever be a real person, if this ambiguous you will become a he or a she or an i love
i wonder if you would ever accept the problems i hold or if you'll grow tired of my constant whining, like everyone else
i wonder if you will treat me like a delicate piece of porcelain just because i have mental problems, or if you'll treat me like a scrap of paper left on the floor of an abandoned classroom
i wonder if you will ever care if i died

when you tell me you like my poems
i smile and say thank you! i'll be writing more, so keep in touch.

panicked heartbeats banging like a drum against my porcelain ribcage
nerves running through electric veins, painful in their persistence and irregularity
soft tears whisper down flushed cheeks in helplessness as
i shake, alone and in the dark
waiting for someone else's name to appear on my screen.

you said you'd be here
forever, until the end
where are you right now?

- a haiku.

there's no optimism in life
raised expectations will only lead to fallen outcomes
life isn't a rollercoaster
life doesn't take you on a joyride
moving up and down through the good and bad
life is existentialism
adapting to gradually harder stages
barely making it through
suffering along the way
do what you enjoy and the industry destroys your ambition
at one point you realize you gave up on your dreams
think back on this poem
the world's most pessimistic poet.

a candle
lit in the background of the party
created for the ambiance, the flow
but not necessarily needed.
a candle,
scented and sweet,
filled with senses of warmth
but needs others to come
and light it up.
a candle,
stifled as its own wax
begins to creep up on the delicate flame.
a candle,
drowned in itself,
through burning itself out
goes unnoticed.

my soul is the weak flame
my ambition is the wax
as we begin to use more of ourselves
we begin to **** our souls
our hearts break but our minds stay strong
in the ideals of 'you must succeed'
until it is far too late to save
what is left of the fire.

i really hope you
flourish beneath life's touch
i hope she is gentle with your heart
for with someone so unfortunate,
she must reserve a special spot for you
alongside the others
she treats your soul carelessly now,
but someday everything you have worked for
will be rewarded

falling in love
is the most beautiful thing you could ever do
wrap yourself in the tendrils of
affection and bask in the pools of intimacy
cheeks alight with faint blushes and
eager eyes stealing glimpses from across a classroom
happily obliging to foolish requests
exaggerated laughter and embarrassed whimpers
let your heart plunge deeper and deeper until you finally realize
oh **** i'm in love
and with a shock you absorb this information slowly
attempting to process your feelings
fear of rejection creeps behind your back
lurking ominously while optimism fights it off
taking smiles as wonderous gifts
giggles as marvelous music
and every brush of skin contact as
electrifying
indeed,
falling in love is a phenomenon
that humans take for granted

it's a gray day
and i'm stuck on the loading screen of life
a wheel of circling dots taunting my eyes
buffering, buffering
slowly working
i wish i could stay here forever

it's a day stuck between the past and the future
quiet and boring and utterly joyful
if only i did not have to move from my bed
if only i did not have to escape my mind
or distract my brain from the hollowness of my bones
if only i could move
i could get my life together on this gray, boring day
but alas,
my bones are feather light and my skin is floating away
my brain is discombobulated and my heart is not okay
unfortunately i am sick
in the mind, in the head
and the me-that-isn't-me
tumbles into space again.

you tell me
i do not know what real pain is
you do not know me
despite my age being
a significant part of what my identity is
i do not feel as if i
am what it represents
i have grown up too quick
learned life lessons too soon
as if somewhere along the line
my brain was fast-forwarded
while the rest of the world
stayed still

sterile smell
permeates fluorescent hallways
hardened dividing curtains
death drills an emotional well

medicine is
the heaven of hell
neverending suffering
clasped by constant beeping

private moments
spent with futile wishing
the grim reaper visits
souls beg for release

washed out flowers
wilt with their futile wishing
cold hands shake with pained smiles
say goodbye

hospitals taste like metallic death
i hate visiting you.

her heart is frank
bold and unforgiving
she whispers the mistakes
i quietly make
and swats my hand away
from excess food
we exercise
until our bones give out
our breaths mingling together as one
on the sweat-stained treadmill
i freeze my meals in the fridge
to deny the stench of their rot in the trash
we count the calories,
go on a diet
and cancel plans to go out
we are healthy together
we only need each other
meet my best friend, anorexia.

the words that flow from my fingers
when had they turned into other's?
as i sit and type
mindlessly staring into space as
letters materialize on the black keys
i realize that these words
are being parroted
i am like a megaphone
taking someone else's voice
and projecting it further
spreading the idea
but never speaking by myself

music flows through
tangled earbuds
at 2am
glazed over eyes
trying not to think of
tomorrow

desperate lips
panting breaths and
awkward laughs
"is this okay?"
needy, grabby hands
caressing porcelain skin
gentle smiles
dark rooms and downy sheets
teeth clashing with passion
tongues dancing, eyes closed
bent over
soft sounds
whimpers muffled by pillows
mine, mine, mine
all mine.

i might be immature and young and inexperienced
and i might just be in love with the idea of love
but seeing your smile
and listening to your cheesy whispers late at night
holding your hand and pressing my cheeks into your shoulders
leaning my head against your chest and blushing with every compliment
with every second i spend with you
i like to believe
i finally know what love is.

she bent the common objects
into fractures of musical light
of joy and sadness intertwined
she created a place for all things right.

it feels like a rush of euphoria
zipping down my veins
comfortably settling into the tension of my body
seeping away into the covers
slowly,
i ignore my responsibilities
thoughts and fears
dip a hand into the music
submerge my small body
into the vast ocean of sounds
and carefully, quietly
succumb to the psychedelic dreams
with the gentle waves of calming music
my only defense against them turning to nightmares.

time saved my soul
in the way only desperate lovers can
my eyes no longer filled with tears
i can smile again

his heart is porcelain
his heart is filled with love
(his heart is full of tiny cracks
his heart is silenced above)

his lips are soft and comfy
his lips are filled with passion
(his lips are being sewn shut
his lips are cold and ashen)

his eyes are warm and dreamy
his eyes are filled with happiness
(his eyes are hollowed out and hungry
his eyes are blank and cavernous)

thank you for taking care of him!
he looks so full of joy
(what have you done to him?
my sweet band-aid boy
my love, my friend, my aid
his life has gone to shatters
his soul is shut and frayed)

i'll see you off, little girl
i'll pat you on the head
(bring back my band-aid boy
you filled him with such dread
bring back my band-aid boy
you killed him and left him dead)

normal humans
don't need to
take a two hour name after school
to recharge their emotions
normal humans
don't need to
stop and remember where
they had just been
five seconds after they'd left
normal humans
don't need to question what they look like
or force the strings of their puppet flesh costume
to move to remind them
that they are alive
normal humans
don't need to fake their emotions
without knowing what they actually feel like
a rough copy of what should have been real

maybe i am not
a normal human

nostalgia fills my veins
like a drug, i am addicted
to reliving the past
and ignoring the present
until, it too,
becomes old enough for me to look back fondly
at this memory that has been touched
with the bittersweet filter
nostalgia puts on my memories

he met a princess.
deep in the lush woods,
cool breeze caressing their flushed cheeks.
warm and comfortable as the leaves rustled.
he met a princess dressed in
tattered garments and ***** skin.
wide-eyed in astonishment,
her eyes were a chocolate brown.
she was nothing like the fairy tales--
she didn't wear a beautiful dress
embroidered with flowers and covered in pink.
she didn't have delicate features,
nor an escort of any kind.
her lips were chapped from being outside
and she wasn't skinny as a twig.
yet her personality was shining
her eyes lit up while she laughed
and reminded him of comfort and home.
the smell of her perfume and shampoo
became special, became hers.
their hands interlocked not-so-perfectly,
but they made it work, in their own
clumsy, clumsy fashion.

and she was a princess,
because he treated her so.

i smell like ***
a lingering aftertaste of pleasure
your cologne and your love
mixed on my skin
panting breaths ghosting over my stomach
hands tangled in short hair
i smell like gentle touches
guiding my hips in a furious dance
unbridled pleasure sparking through my veins
fueling my desperate desire
hit ******-- hit the top of the atmosphere
euphoric fireworks create a messy picture
intimacy is the best way of expressing affection
i smell like ***
i smell like you

perceive my kindness as you will
with the flat innocence of your heart
you interpret the small gestures
and idealize my smiles
create a reality
but don't fall in
for it is but
an optical illusion.

heartbreak blooms
into etched sketches
on naive wrists
and gritted teeth
hasty poems
written in the shadow
of lonely tears
paint out anger
into a broken canvas.

my life is a fragrant mess
filled with scents of the musty past
my head is dizzy with all the smells
that hit me with a blast
the moment i unchain the locked door
to the room with the perfumes
my legs shake
and collapse to the floor
overcome by deja vu
my memories are sad
tinged with a shade of blue
my memories are rarely happy
and none of them are new
for my life is morose and grim
saddened with self-pity
i write poetry to remind myself
life isn't all that pretty
i sit among a field of flowers
quietly picking stems
of those i find the ugliest
those i press to leather books
and to history i condemn
one for every broken heart
one for every locked door
one for every kiss we shared
until we fell apart.

mediocre and
faded
the average poem
no longer strikes chords
in the heart's harp
use extravagant vocabulary
weave your words tight
until they seem uncomfortable
the original meaning lost
between the claustrophobic corners
covered in lace and pretentious boasting
try but don't try so hard
that no one but the classic readers
would be able to understand
the words you've worked so hard to convey
do not force a poem out
or it will stick your fingers and
it will create a mess
similar to a teenage boy
it will be long and uncomfortable with itself
unknowing of how to adjust
into this thing that is supposed to be
mature now despite wanting to be simple
do not rush poetry
find quiet inspiration
in silent observations
of yourself, of nature
rushing poetry makes it fast
too many unfilled thoughts
racing around in one space
not meeting each other
despite being so close together
tell a story with imagery
with delicate words of morality
tell a story with flashbacks
with soft lips and with stained shirts
tell a story with love
make your poems with care

breath hitched in the back of my throat,
sharp nails digging into the pale flesh of my palm
flushed cheeks and down-turned eyes
chewing on plump lips with pointed canines
afraid to look up but
his finger pushes my chin up
delicately,
he leans in.

i fall into his trap.

aim for the stars while you can
still pull your bow back far enough
for your arrow to reach.
take advantage of your resources while
they're still in your possession.
educate your mind while
white noise does not scatter your thoughts
like interrupted radio waves.
fill your pages with
inked words and doodled pictures while
creativity leaks out of your soul with age.
keep your love in your thoughts while
you are able to feel.
allow curiosity to flow while
others attempt to cap it.

keep reaching to be your best.
you can do it.

i'd always been jealous of you
with your slicked back hair
sunglasses and cigarettes
how you could command
how you knew everything
was a battle
rebellion vs monotony
life vs death
i would follow you blindly
for you were a leader
and i was a sheep
accepting your twisted truths as fact
using pain as an aphrodisiac
the nectar to my masochistic soul
you were perfectly violent
an artistic achievement of anarchy
everything i wanted to be
compressed into a single person
controlling over masses
indoctrinating them through
brainwashing their will out of their minds
take your humanity back
before you become a percentage
you did everything i wish i could do
you were perfect so
was it really a surprise when
i found out you weren't real?

would it have been easier if
we hadn't touched the tips of our paintbrushes into the deep puddles of our secrets and paint them out into 3 am portraits?
i hadn't flung my heart out into the greedy sea that is your soul?
our surrendering of ourselves to each other hadn't ended in a glorious catastrophe of flaming tears and betrayed smiles?

would it have been easier if we had never met?

i should have carved the poison out of my soul when it was first fresh and new
but now, even though im choking on my own blood,
i still love the taste

you helped mold me to be this way,
although it was my fault for being so pliant,
you forced me into a machine with impulsive decisions and faucet eyes, a robot with all the negative emotions
and then you threw me away, because im a defect
number 0-01, the first failure out of many
later you'll finally create the one that is lovable
without thinking twice about the ones you broke

my words may sound like a lover's heartbreak
a snapping between two worlds
but the only love here is between life and myself
life plays the role of the abusive partner, pushing and pulling whenever it seems fit
controlling my world and my body like puppet strings
i let it because it was what knew best for me, right?
because filling my body with liquid fire and sticks of smoke is the only way out?
because im too hopeless and terrified to make my own path, to forge a new future, and rely on life's arm to guide the way
and as i do so i watch silently as death comes to take those around me, drifting further and further away for each fallen
i watch as i die in front of myself
and the shell that is left is only a fragment of my mind

unfortunately,
i fall too hard and too fast
hurtling from the top of my dignity to the unrelenting floor of rejection
without even saying a word a switch snaps and my heart
flings itself into the claustrophobic abyss of love
but love is such a pretty word for such a corrupt ideal
love has become my chains
and the target of my affection becomes my jailer

do not take these words to your heart because they do not mean much at all
simply the ramblings of a madman

relapse into
pain,
sharp teeth and razor blades
armed with self-hatred and nothing more but
the intense need for
pain,
masochism overtaking common sense
punishing my body for things others say
silently begging for
pain,
an attention ***** and a ****
if you self-harm then you're just desperate
why not just **** yourself and save all that
pain,
nails clawing at pale backs
bent over porcelain toilets at 5am
casually vomiting the contents of half-filled stomachs
from the day before
obsessed with
pain,
i don't like pain
but it's what i deserve.

we cant have an opinion
until someone with a bigger voice
better personality and dominant position in society
says something about it
which is why
instead of summaries, reviews of famous authors
newspapers and companies are printed on the covers of books
quotes stolen from filmmakers out of context
advertised in movie trailers
celebrities used as poster-people for ads
the people we look up to
are used as marketing tools
their words taking over ours
until we take them as fact

a single movement can cause
ripples throughout the world
an inspiration can
take temporary control
of the fluid human mind
inspire uprising and
fight for what is yours
take possession of the world
and make it into what you think
it should be
instead of complaining about
what you would do if
you could do something
use the public to your advantage
and become the ruler of a
corrupted society

maybe there is hope
for the mindless
for the masses
for the apathetic losers
quietly making their way through
passing by with not a dent to the world
normal and expendable
casual onlookers to the big parade of extraordinary
they do not make
they buy
they consume
they digest
and they do not question
however,
if one idea managed to spark
to catch hold of a mind
and spread it
furiously ignite the dynamite
the world will explode
for if all of its normals
its casuals and its expendables
suddenly rose up and took charge
as a whole, yes
but finally thinking
finally breathing freedom
the world will become theirs.

at five years old
they attached a machine to my brain
they said it would help my future
and i would grow from having it
they activated it,
Monday through Friday
8 to 3
and i ended up despising it
it made me lose control
slip into a character that lived to impress others
and i couldn't think for myself
it leeched off of my body's energy for its battery
and drained it quickly
they said it'll be over eventually
be glad you have it,
at least you don't have to go into
the "real world" yet
the machine never gave rewards
only punishments
they called the machine

school.

these fries are too salty
they dry out my mouth
but i still eat them
despite their detriment to my health

these fries are too salty
but they remind me of you
back when we came to this place
together, just us two

these fries are too salty
and so are my tears
i miss you my love
but it's been years

these fries are too salty
they're the opposite of your voice
it used to be sweet
and became my comfort noise

these fries are too salty
and i'll continue thinking
but because of you i'll keep eating
it's because of you i keep sinking.

in a city of skyscrapers
lies a sanctuary
for the introverted
leather binding and worn pages
thumbed out by eager readers
and patient bookworms
the smell of crisp new pages mixed with
beloved classics quietly sitting side by side
wooden tables and a kindergarten mat
spread next to comics and Clifford
haphazardly placed signs
signaling areas
outdated computers and shelves of movies
hidden corners away from librarians' prying eyes
put to questionable use by teen volunteers
whispered words and
clasped hands
library days.

afternoons covered in a shroud
wasted away by
replacing days with white sheets of paper
covered in gray scratches of ink
later to be pushed into nervous hands
a letter circled in red
discouraged to find
their hard work was not enough
for the ever brutal school
childhoods wasted away
by stress and worry

ugly crying at 4am
choking the liquid out of ugly glass beer bottles
inhale lines of snowy bliss
only to come down an hour later with a pounding headache
inject euphoria into pale arms
polka dotted with needle marks and marred by mottled bruises
take the heart filled with tiny seams and split it in two
laugh because yeah, that's what i deserve
line after line, day after day
when my luck runs out i'll finally be free
i wouldn't **** myself but i wouldn't save myself if i was dying
**** all day and all night because on crack it feels like heaven
wake up from od'ing with a seizure and with the broken streetlight flickering above my head
cracked sobs and tearing at hair because
i dont deserve to live

you left me fumbling
uncomfortably attempting to adjust my ideas
as you carefully slipped yourself out of the
home you had made in my heart,
you left no note
although you owed me nothing
i still felt betrayed

god, i've written so many poems about you
despite the fact that you'll never read them
thinking about you tears my chest in half
and i keep reopening the wound
you were never mine to begin with
but when i see you with others
i grow irrationally jealous
it's been so long
but time cannot heal all wounds

selfishly i wonder
what if you had been mine?

slowly,
the sky we shared together
shattered into frozen blue
pale and icy, just like your face
when i said
i didn't love you
i'm sorry, it's my fault
but i couldn't take it any more
stealing the love from your heart
when there were others that could kiss you better
without seeing it as a chore
i feel as though i am a leech
taking your life source
selfishly, jealously
as if you meant nothing to me
but a lover once loved
but now,
no more.

this deep
stabbing stake
wrenched in my chest
feels so nostalgically familiar
i welcome it with open arms
despite the hurt that comes with it
i am a self *******
and shove it even deeper
until it feels like i am choking
desperate for air
the stake turns to poison
falls into the depths of my stomach
and curls up there, forcing
the contents inside out
into a porcelain bowl
3 am and nothing but a wrecked mess
pale and shivering
cheek pressed against the cool tile
of a beige bathroom floor
shaky breaths spill out from
terrified lips
frantically wondering
if they will be my last
yet day after day
my eyes seek you out

self masochism is my only talent, i say
as i watch you kiss her
bullets riddle my chest
yet i still smile and say i am fine
self masochism is my only talent, i scream
because if i am not happy
the only thing that matters is you
even if i fall at least it was for you
self masochism is my only talent, i whisper
it feels as if i am dying
with every step i take i wonder
if you hate me for what i did for you
self masochism is my only talent,
but i cannot speak no more
for i bite my tongue and drown myself in self pity
this stake that emerges from my chest
is just another heartbreak