my friend
who wrote poems
and liked ping pong
and was grateful
for everything
is dead.

i cant find the poem he wrote for me.
i dont know how not to cry.

I didn't start living until 15 days ago.
Hopped on a plane across the world, fueled by hope and thrill, visiting countless countries, famous cities, small towns, pub prowls, tattooed and brand new perspective.
It's quite different than it used to be.
Plagued by disease, wrecked memories, hard to wash stains off child brain, proaction, retraction, all too young to act on desires.
But now I feel I have purpose.
Because when I stress it's not about failing expectations, reality weighs in, search for places to stay in, transportation, learn new languages, survival depends on my eustress now.
And no one can bring me down.

Tired
Lost
Confused
Defeated.

crave (crumble)
shiver (shake)
dying to keep
my bones
awake.                                                   ­                       (strange) thunder
                                                         ­                             (thrives) under
                                                           ­                            my skin
                                                            ­                          threatening to stake
                                                                ­                       the progress
                                                                ­                       i've made
promising to make it
go away
with a better addiction
a better conviction . . .
                                        how  do  they  n­ot  see
                                        the  criminal  bene­ath  me ?

                                                            ­                   maybe its not there
                                                                ­                    the wind whispers
                                                        ­                     maybe it doesnt have to be
                                                             ­                       the truth answers me

everything*  is  different  now;  
                        ­                                                   its edging on
                                                                ­           two whole years
                                                           ­                with out the tears
                                                                ­           of being beaten down  
                                                                ­           by cold hearted kids
                                                            ­               who couldnt find themselves
                                                      ­                     and took it out
and now i feel                                                    on me.
a pathetic remorse
for the scars
all those
lost souls
left on my legs,
my hips, my arms;
but not for me
                          for  them.
                                                     because
                                                       ­                    how lacking of love
                                                                ­           all your lives must have been
                                                            ­               for you to punch me,
                                                                ­           and scream
                                                                ­           painful lies in my ears
                                                                ­           for you to kick me,
                                                             ­              and use your nails
                                                           ­                and pencils to tear
                                                                ­           cuts crying red
                                                                ­           upon my pale skin.          
Oh, i feel worse
for all of you
then i do for myself;
because id never do
an innocent life
so wrong
and youll never
be able to retract
what you've done.

anxiety creeps
along my spine
"youre  not  good  enough!"
my conscious whines
"stupid , worthless , left  for  dead!"
i cant get these voices
out of my head.

sometimes i wish
i could end it all
but that would make me
all too responsible
for grief and pain
and suffering
for the ones i love
and who say they love me.

is this what life
is all about?
ive thought these thoughts
for 9 years now
and the only person
that can help
me from myself
is unhappy
from bottom to top
because of me
because  of  me .
they cant help
but sing me lies
in order to live
their chosen life
am i that bad?
that you could shatter
my trust into pieces
and have it not matter?

my heart is tearing
sobbing, moaning, crying
my fingernails tear
at my skin, im trying
to hold back
from digging in deeper
with a dull knife
or a sewing needle
just smoke it away
the cravings, the urges
get high and play
the thought game in which
i forget who i am
and who's life i am in.

i find it refreshing
to breathe you in.
the soft in your scent
settles the wars in my head
in the moments
my face is against your neck.

with every kiss
you sing a song
of content and peace,
satisfaction strong
and i cant say that ive ever felt
this serenity
that you leave behind
in our embraces
with anyone else.

your fluttering eyelashes
and dilated pupils
gently set my soul at ease

im finally enough
and it feels free.

*a.r.h

slivering smoke
sinking down my throat
sends satisfying shivers
up my spine.

lurking, living
spirals making me
alive with a lightheaded high
creeping behind
my glassy eyes.

your velvet finger's
soft trails linger
deeper than my skin
could let you touch.

it makes me want to save my breath;
to know your kiss
is waiting at the other end.

choices flowing at my feet
i find myself wandering
in a muddy river bend.

i could choose
to make you
my silent surrender
to my ending hunger
of the comfort
you provide.

or i could mess up again
just get addicted
to the way you smile
because of mine
and the way
you send shivers
up my spine.

spinning smoke
exhaled with a jolt
a cough, a sneeze
a retch, i feel
the weak need
to sit down.


*a.r.h

I don't want to **** myself;
but sometimes I think
you want me to.

pitter patter
toss up and shatter
my hopes in the tangled
mess that is your
lack of speech.

do you even know you're doing it?...
                                                                ...or must you hear it from me?

someone, something
please help me

No one gets it
Is an understatement
Because even the people that do
Interpret it different than you
Leaving you lonely
Wherever you go there's
That lingering feeling
That reminds you you're not
okay
And you might never be

So they try to teach you
That that's okay,
That your life can be taken away
Just like that and everybody
You know will continue
To live on without you
But your body won't make it
Your mind will break by
The time everyone's lives start

I'm already broken, stop.

So go tell me it's all okay
That I won't wake up one day,
That's lately what they all say.