oblivion is a place that i've always wanted to know,
since it sounded like peace to someone like me who's never
quite convinced it to stay long enough to have anything more
than a slight impression on my pillow and
perfume stained sheets.
even so, i'm still sorry for existing
as an unfortunate vortex of bad ideas, apologies,
and impulsive behavior--
i liken myself to fragmented floorboards or
drifting rooftops, a tornado of good intent,
but you can't  build something steady when your vision is red
and your state of mind is blurry--
god, i'm trying not to let myself be
the cause of civilian casualty.
painted pieces of "could've beens" and "what if's" separated only by the winds caused by a torrent of ****** punching fists--
there are holes in the wall that are shaped just as much by
my ex lovers as they are by my own hands.
i'm sorry i'm not more stable since i never quite
mastered the art of construction,
i'm sorry i am less four walls and more
collapsed doorway,
i'm sorry i was a synonym for broken
and she was more of a safe place than i could ever be.
that's all i ever wanted to be for you, you know,
a safe place
even when my eyes spell out danger
and i try not to embody the word "home-wrecker"
as much, even when
cracks form around my skull
every time i realize that you never were the type
to buy a house in tornado country--
i never considered myself deserving of the word "home"
but for once, i wish i was.

I’m a functionally depressed person.
I’ve self-diagnosed myself as this
Because severe depression makes
Me feel like I should be lying
Around my house all day and
Although I’d rather wrap myself
In the blankets of my bed,
I push myself out into the day.
Dressed in an outfit that’s not
Sweatpants and a t-shirt, but
Instead, jeans and a sweater.
Long sleeves to cover the cuts
On my arm, or many bracelets
With no colors that match my
Outfit but they cover my
Self-inflicted wounds from
The night before.
I fake a smile at people
That I pass by during the day
And I hope that they can’t
See through my eyes and into
My head. I hope they can’t read
The suicidal thoughts swimming
Around, filling the lack of serotonin
That I’m missing from my brain.
Their eyes feel like lasers shooting
Into my brain like bullets that I dream
Of releasing from the chamber
To settle in my head.
I’m a functionally depressed person
Because I function in society
Without anyone knowing that
Inside, I’m already dead.

You are a purple dawn that sparkles in my eyes before I open them
Your eyes are a golden sunset I drown in whenever you look at me
Your voice is the first song of nature in warm spring
Your skin is a soft petal of a white rose in the meadow
Your love is the sea I dive in like I never have to take another breath

Here we go again
Not a single word in sight
No attempt at contact
Did I do something wrong?
Or are you ignoring me
Am I too clingy for you?
I don't believe a simple "Hello"
Every once in a while
Is considered too much
Maybe you're busy
And I'm overreacting
I can't help
But to worry myself sick
All these what if scenarios
Only to conclude you are alright
The sun resets itself
Leaving us another cyclical day
Of worry and ignorance