i want to write something life changing
but i always end up rambling about the things i've been building up for so long that slowly end up falling apart before my eyes. the slightest things can have an impact on myself and can cause me to relapse. a single word, an image, a person, can trigger so many things and memories that lead me to breaking into a million pieces. it's up to me if i can afford a lot of time and patience into thinking if i want to resemble the parts of myself that i want to improve. i want to think of myself as an embodiment of flaws and confidence. but i am just one of those in the end. it's so hard to  continue doing your everyday routines, trying to catch up with schedules and my favorite bands and idols, when i myself can't understand where i'm heading. i pray so hard, to a god, someone that i want to believe in but i'm slowly drifting apart from, everyday hoping that i'll get better when it's been 5 years of on and off struggles and relapsing. i want to get better, so that in the future i can share words that are written in happiness and certainty. instead of the redundancy of constant death, thoughts of suicide, and insecurity. i want people to stay tuned, maybe anticipating if i end up dying early from overdose or recovering completely from the darkness that has engulfed me long ago. but no one is sure, not even myself if i will get better. all i know is that i'm still here and in the process of finding something that will change my life forever.

it doesn't matter
whether it's a girl and a guy
a woman holding a woman
a guy kissing a guy

it doesn't matter
if they fall in love with one other
who are we to judge
who they want to choose as their lover

it doesn't matter
if they live their own lives
if you can't accept that
what difference does it make
if you continue to live yours
in choosing to stay alive

it doesn't matter
if a man and a woman say i do
in front of an altar
why are people disgusted
when two others
accept their love for each other

it doesn't matter
if she kissed her
and he, him
you are just as human
you have a beating heart
and you have the desire to love
just like all of them

n.j.

Will there be words enough to express the gratitude I feel for the physical embodiment of comfort?
I think if I try to layer each sheet of thank you and letters, I would make one hell of a tower I’m sure I would be proud of
So thank you for the years of awkwardness and tears and embraces that I have kept looping at a space at the back of my head
But worry not, for this space is remarkable, and is not a singular box nor a definition of solitude

For I have you

We are the youth that grew yet we are still tiptoeing and hoping that we will reach the gap between the doorstep above our heads
Our expressions and terms evolved and shaped the corners of our lips in between the giggles and aches and words we wish we had not misplaced
And I will fall into apology for that one time I blamed you and him for the distance that constructed between us
Yet you built a bridge and crossed it for me
And I despised how I built walls that arose high up that vultures mistook me for a corpse
But the only bridge I would ever want to cross, is the aisle between pews
To meet the man who is to wed my best friend and whom he is willing to fight for

So I thank you

For accepting each fragment of thought
And for gently opening the envelope even though you have no clue what was in store
I was a letter of disarrayed vocals yet you took me into your home
And spent a sufficient amount of time to decipher the paragraphs of each fold
You proved your worth when you did not think I was another piece of crumpled paper
And you found similarities and comfort in my torn up corners

For that I am thankful

I know I will spend the rest of my life with you
This is not a confession of love and romance (god no) but something much more genuine
I will be your children’s jokes and the books that they read
I will greet your husband with a fist bump and I will be your company of trips to the sea
I will drag you to my first tattoo and I will be your most annoying plead
I will be the anchor to keep you steady when far from the shore,
I will be the old woman with gray hair and so will you

And this is what I hope for

A friendship that will not expire and turn into inedible satisfaction
That our hands will always find each other’s comfort
And be the other person’s exception
To finally reach the gap above our heads, with stretched fingers
To create countless views of looping embraces
And to be far from the crumpled paper of envelopes
For no matter what reason it may be, I will make amends
And to these layers and sheets of towering thank you’s and letters
No matter if this world is turned upside down,

I will always love you, and you will always be my best friend

n.j.

We are all born human beings
Born with hearts half filled
And fingers separated
Sealed lips meant for smiles
And eyes blinded at birth
Yet we grow to realize
That we are beings that are worth
More than the flaws that we are
And the scars that we have
The loneliness we succumb to
The sadness we abuse
We are human beings
Whose hearts are are yet to be filled
Fingers left to be intertwined with another
And eyes yet to see the love
We truly deserve
And that one heart
We are made for
That other

n.j.

My idea of a party is having sand in my hair while I smell of burnt wood and midnight barbecue
Music will be the waves that crash and return and messy chords on an acoustic guitar
And I will remember when we both wished that we could go on road trips on hours like this,
And how eventually time ran short for us, so we're finally here
I want to get drunk on the moonlight while I sip on yesterday's memories
I want to talk about the good times
I will fall asleep enveloped in nature's arms and dance while the stars twinkle high above

My idea of a party are late night drives and stops at gasoline stations at unearthly hours,
Conversations that result to slurred words and cackling with the windows rolled down,
Romanticizing over the architecture of rotting wood and crumbling concrete
Books and printed words under a flashlight

My idea of a party are rolled sleeves and roadtrips away from every soul and every touch of skin,
Away from the world, except yours I will never grow tired of

n.j.

We put together these words we think can suffice how much we feel about things

"I love you"
"You're beautiful"
"I miss you"
"I hate you"
"I don't ever want to see you again"

But what is that word? What is love? What does it mean? When we want to express words more than what they seem

It is not love when you look past and beyond that
It is not a word that can be found in a book, hidden in a shelf at the back of a library
It is not a combination of words nor letters put together
It is not a piece of paper filled with paragraphs back-to-back,
It is not a question of whether, who loves who most

It does not exist

It is not a lyrical embodiment
It is not ink
It is not printed
But it is here somewhere, tucked underneath our skin
It is a feeling, a tingle, a chill to the bone
It is an action expressed
It is art
It is me and you who are worth

But no matter how deep we dig
No matter how much we chase the sun and the moon
No matter how many offerings we think are enough to prove

Nothing will ever be enough to express the words we have for each other,
And me, for you

n.j.

When I was younger I thought it would take forever to reach the age as many as the fingers of my hands
But the next thing I knew, I was counting the number of figs I ate for the day, gave food to stray cats, chased the moon and wondered if my flashlight would ever reach the night skies
But then I realized I had toes and started counting again until I had 2 left
I discovered that the moon was farther into the sky and beyond reach
I flew across the globe and started living a life I did not forsee,
And I still wonder if those stray cats are ever fed properly or if they are given the love that they need
I found out that flashlights are used for the dark to brighten up a path unseen,
And not to be wasted on the infinite sky with bright stars that don't need light to be perceived

I am older, a little bit wiser, a whole lot more shy but heart warmer than ever, yet I will never stop gazing at the night sky and counting my toes and fingers, wondering if I could ever turn back time

n.j.

baggy shirts and folded sleeves
holding hands and acid washed jeans
from clean to stained clothing
we watched yesterday's crooked teeth
hide behind grown smiles from each other's lips, and for once, our futures seemed promising
our skin was pure yet our insides were battered
but bandages and plaster cast arms were just shells and they never mattered
we are both our own places
it's our choice where we choose to stand
and our faces are merely masks and disposable skin and emotions
we let our hearts do the talking, the questioning and the loving
this is what we were made for
not to be thrown around and ripped of our own exterior, but to be planted on the ground with our heads facing the clouds
and our wrists stretching out along with our fingers, grabbing all the opportunities and experiences

we are not carousels of repetition
we are layers of unwritten episodes
we are human beings

n.j.

she looks at his eyes while he stares at her thighs
and he's wondering if she's going to sleep with him tonight
the dress that hangs by her dainty physique is meant to impress
but all he pictures is what's underneath
their hearts beat giving values to their chests
of treasured boxes kept locked away from all of the rest
she wishes for solace and an assurance to not be pressed
he wishes to gain her trust and to take over, hoping for a nightly event of passionate ***
he lures her into a loophole of false intent
she smiles at his slipping mask but continues to reciprocate
they exchange words over drunk breaths
but she is too intoxicated so she forgets
her tenuous wrists are taken into his
she tries to refuse but eventually gives in
to forceful attainment and prohibited entry
she wonders if her racing heart will be heard through her thin exterior
she wonders if there are other words for "help"
and why men always have to be the superior
her fingers are helpless along with tight shut eyes
clothing sliding from svelte body parts, past unconscious skin
she senses heavy breathing, not hers, to keep herself wondering
unaware and completely susceptible
she falls asleep, passing out with her body against his

the sun will kiss her tender cheeks
with the absence of coffee drinks
she will be awake and lying next to nothing but empty sheets
she will remember looking into his eyes
hoping that he was the one to keep her safe from reoccurring lies
but he was nothing but a crooked thief
who robbed her of her entirety

n.j.

as human beings and consumers, we often seek for contentment
as seekers, we search for satisfaction to fill in missing parts of us we think we need
as lovers, we seek for attention, longingness and to be far off from the void
we search for what is relevant enough to be the food of our soul, and as we consume we are never satisfied
so we seek for satisfaction, wanting more
and with hands full, a heart pouring out of selflessness, we destroy ourselves
as we fall in love, we fall apart
giving and offering missing puzzle pieces that exist within us
as we gradually become into nothing, we feed off of others, consuming whatever it is they have left
we accept their love, and they, our flaws
aware that we are only body parts that are reconnecting
as we heal, we occupy their vacancies, filling in missing parts that have been hollow for too long
we become their musings, their vertebrae of support
they become our sanctuary and our hope
they become the memories that look into the future
instead of the mistakes that shaped who we are

n.j.

She sang herself to sleep every now and then
As the tears trickled down her tiny face
During those nights, no one heard except for the pillow case positioned under her head
And the mattress served as a barrier for the demons that lived beneath her bed
As the sun buries itself into the sea,
Its flames die out and so does she
Nights are when she crosses out the days left on her beating skin
Dawns are when she peels off dry scars and have her cuts covered in bandages
Solitary lullabies are what keep her sane
But the words leave the mouth of a battered child yearning for the company of another,
But she is all that will remain

n.j.

Listening to songs that remind me of winter
Chilling guitars and ice cold skin
I taste bliss on chapped lips
Tiny hairs on my arms that go unnoticed stand on end
The heat is rising here, it feels like summer yet Christmas is fast approaching
I miss my childhood of hazy mornings, heavy eyelids appreciating windows pressed with mist
Layers of clothing that will never satisfy the warmth of my skin
I miss the innocence that I once held
Handprints on glass spaces facing city lights every day and night
Craving for warm bodies wrapped around thick blankets, awaiting the first sunrise of Christmas Eve
My family's love and warmth never beyond reach
I miss the way my stomach filled, as I exchanged smiles and gifts across the dinner table
And I despise the way such songs remind me of the way I felt during those winters

I miss the little girl who didn't care if her smile made her teeth look big

I miss the little girl with clean skin and intentions

I miss my family that always stood by each other

I miss the 10 years that slipped away from my fingers

I miss winter and how the little things remind me of excited footsteps echoing and filling up walls of a household of four individuals

The foggy windows, chilly mornings, familiar lights, laughter and smiles stored enough to keep our bodies warm for the days to come

I miss the songs sung by our stereos, pervading the air with joyous breaths as we exchange bright possibilities and futures

I miss the Christmas that I've always known

n.j.

i loved you with a heart beating
and in return you gave me back the friendship i needed
although i would still give you every ounce of my soul, every inch of my skin, every tear, every scar and every kiss i would bleed for
nothing will ever change, and sadly we were not given the power to control another person's heart
for we are already selfish beings, and i guess that's more than this world needs
yet you never gave up nor deserted me
and when i poured my heart out
you caught it with your bare hands, still beating and breathing
you held it gently with a smile on your lips and tears in your eyes
you said that you couldn't take it but i insisted
and you told me to say no more
because there are others who are worth and needed it the most
but that if ever those others would break the heart i poured

you'd be there waiting for me with yours

n.j.

He treasured every inch of her skin
As if he was responsible for putting together her body structure and curves
Every detail was well thought, a result of numerous hours of unsharpened pencils and sketches
He has done this before, maybe even to the point that every stroke became less and less meaningful
When he wasn't preoccupied, leisure consisted of admiring buildings, edifices and towers that touched clouds and reached skies
He contemplated and wondered if he would ever come up with a design, so great that it would represent perfection
During nights when he would close his eyes,
He imagined a bare lot with overgrown grass, enclosed with trees
He pictured the process of construction, men moving back and forth, drenched in sweat,
And heat that showered on them like hovering bees
He never knew what perfection looked like, no matter how many times he would lie in bed at night with closed eyes
But she came to him like an idea, an inspiration that walked through the door
Yet he did not recognize that perfection looked beautiful in lavender
Nor did he know that she loved soft rains and ice cream during winters
He did not acknowledge such existence until she tore down her walls for him
And she became his favorite sketch, a structure he would always keep building
An assembly of the most appealing interior, countless hallways and staircases
A concept that needed more explanation and could not be written, spoken or expressed as blueprints
She became his favorite design, and a treasure he valued way more than any of his work

He loved her.

n.j.

I dream of a life living in hell. It's insane I know, but I love picturing myself in bruises and more scars than I already have. I fantasize of someone kicking me in the face, mutilating myself and drugging every last inch of my brain with more memories that can stimulate my being traumatized. Everyone dreams of a happy, non-problematic life, truth be told I do too, but there are just moments were I picture a person smothered in pity and suicide.
I take hours driving into nowhere. I leave at dawn or in the middle of the night and have long conversations with a lover who craves for lust as much as I do. But it will always be her or maybe him and I. Just the two of us, driving towards utopia but mistaking the roads and ending up in an opposite world.
I dream of having *** that will make me feel alive. On the road, in the middle of nowhere, abandoned houses, motels, bathroom stalls and bedrooms that smell of old newspapers and cardboards. My partner scratching me as I bleed. I dream of a him and a her, a ****** up version of me, filled with tattoos and scars, who drown themselves in ***** and cigarettes, and someone who thinks just as I do. They choke me with words, and penetrations. Maybe fingers and wet lips. I always give in, and they are always in control.
I dream of crying on their necks or shoulders, releasing my anger and all the heat into their kisses and lust. I dream of him or her, finding me, a little too late, in a bathtub filled with a lifeless and breathless body. And they will mourn over me and join me later on, on the journey.

It's sick of me, for someone to think this way, maybe I'm just too ****** up, maybe I need help, but I guess these are my horrible fantasies, of a tragic life I crave for. A world where no one cares and thinks about me except maybe for that person. A world where I dream of killing myself and breathing in drugs to help me forget about the perfect life I am in.

But that world does not exist. I live in this one where I am me. I have scars, I smoke, I eat, I breathe, I talk, I laugh, I'm happy and alive. That world is just another one of my desires and fantasies. Another definition of the word "living"

n.j.

rainbow pills and broken filters
tips and pockets filled with wine
breath so bitter, lips so broken
digging nails and brittle smiles
first light viewing with ticking wrists
5 am to smoking hills
bedded greens surround our feet
fading in with the best company

(n.j.)

She had a heartbeat that raced and chased cars
She was never after anyone and had no one in particular
She was like a reserved box, labeled fragile
Enclosed in a bundle, like a new born infant
"Caution" was something she didn't come with
She was not a beforehand preparation
She was a victim of beings, demons is what you call them
And they were harvesting within her
The only thing she had to lose was the life that was given to her
Her possessions were minimal,
Not enough to surpass the numbers on her fingers
Body parts and a beating heart,
Skin and bones, an exterior soon to rot to dust
And the one thing she craved for was the strength
To get past the barriers of her heart
She was a body bag in the making,
An unwritten obituary, a nameless face on a Monday morning's newspaper
She was a roled up article next to a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes
The only recognition she would ever get is the folded edge,
A mug's wet mark of caffeine, the ashes of a finished stick
And unwanted condolences
She was the closest you could get to non-existence
Flesh and shivering bones connected
Lungs with smoke that filled up the spaces
Breathing like a clenching fist
And each time they deflate into a sheet of tissue
She lets out a a dying breath of relief

n.j.

the most prominent thing i remember is the back of your head and how the last thing i always picture is the front door closing
my heart is left empty and so is my bed
i can't claim it to be ours, not anymore in this room of broken promises
i wish you could have left me your clothes hanging, then maybe you would have lingered longer than the wind or of how cigarettes smell
you may be wondering why i'm struggling for air, trust me i've been trying to quit but with every drag and stick your face shows up in between and if that's the only way to not forget then i'd rather choke on coughing fits
the day you carried out your bags, you took away what belonged to me as well
you were the whole package of dreams and soon to be's, you were my future but you cut the strings and i had no choice but to let you slip through my fingers
you stayed long but how you withdrew yourself from me was an act of retreat
you did not have to leave
so if you ever come back searching for me, know that all i have to offer is to forgive
we make mistakes as human beings, it's our nature's way of living but i will never blame you for wrong doings
i will love you for as long as these corners stand firm and still, afterall this was the house we lived in

coming home from a long day of school, i am welcomed by my mother's kisses yet it's the blade's that touch my cheek
i feel the long glides of hello's and how are you's creep up my veins and sleeves
my heart pounds like a hummingbird, except this time there's no bird but a desperate cry clawing at the door
my throat catches itself as i skip lunch with an empty stomach. my tears will be all that's left to ingest and the dining room will be my bathroom floor
i collapse on my knees drenched in uniform sweat, punching the tiles and marble décor
why is it, that every time i strip i reach for sharp edges instead of shower curtains?
why do my hands try to break the buildings of restraint? why are they strong enough to reach for the blades?
and why am i considered weak if i resort to such violence?

i cannot remember the last time my thighs looked bare
each time i recall, i see a naked canvas stained with red and purple
my individual hairs dipped in fresh cuts and my head spinning around in circles
each time i try to forget the lunch i skipped and the conversations of unspoken words i never said,
the skull behind my forehead trembles with regret
and i’ll remember how my heart would pound like the wings of a hummingbird
flying back and forth, clawing and tearing my chest open as i reach for the door

my mom awaits me with kisses to welcome me home
but i’ll be too eager to collapse on the bathroom floor

n.j.

The last thing I remembered was when we lit up the sky
Our eyes, they were filled with contentment and happiness
Delight, not fright and our hearts were beating with courage
I remember you holding my hand and saying
"It's finally going to be okay"
And with words that slipped, there remained a smile

Because for once, the sky was on fire
We were the heaven, and above was the hell
And earth, didn't feel like a bad place to live in after all

What remained, were two friends staring at bliss
Tasting it, savouring the flavour
Because we knew
That this happiness, will and won't, last forever

n.j.

it's the little things that we appreciate, like how the body forms into a shell ready to take you in,
welcoming you into their mind of oceans and currents as they willingly embrace you
we attempt to picture every moment we have with them, wondering if we'll ever fit the frame
conversations are merely recordings that fade into background, the true connections made through sincerity, subtle glances and intense regard
the flesh and skin that they wear appear as exhibits that we alone can touch
their presence a reward, their words a treasure for the heart
we notice the fine lines, their dainty wrists, and veiny hands
we notice their crooked smiles and how the corners hang like a wanderer stapled to the moon
we romanticize too much of everything that is easily dismissed by everyday eyes
although almost invisible, they mean every beat of the heart
to every fiber of the soul, to ever breath we breathe in
so when the smiles disappear like forgotten dust, we cannot help but fall apart
we disintegrate into tossed cigarette butts that once resided on lips we love
we cannot forget the way they laced their fingers together, or how they made their coffee
how their ears are shaped, how they gazed into space when we watched them wondering what they were thinking
how they carried their feet when we dragged them, conversing in drunken breaths
because nothing is as simple as that, a disappearance like a thief in the night who took our lives with them
nothing will resemble or replace even a strand of hair
because it's the little things that tear us apart as well

n.j.

I don't believe in the words you say
No matter how hard I try to force myself
I always fall in between restraint
Your words will always be a contruction of lies
Even if they were built on how you believe things will be
How you forsee you and me but I,
I will always hide behind my doubt
I will always get used to the feeling of people leaving
It's kind of sad to know that the only love I have ever known
Is the love I always offered
Receiving nothing in return
So I'm sorry if I find everything hard to believe
Even if they are just words on screen
There is only one thing I want you to believe
That I know how much effort and emotion you put into them
But it's just that I feel that those words
Are never meant for me

n.j.

my first love did not love me back

i watched her from afar as her smile radiated the layers and sheets of the ground that has yet to crumble
hair held back or let down, her face shone and all i could see was the future that wasn't written at the palm of my hands
whenever our eyes reflected, in her i saw everything i could ever want
she was never beyond reach, yet whenever i held her hands and wrists, i felt her pulse skip a beat, and i knew that it was not for me
her lips met others to satisfy and her touch kissed the skin of another
but i remained by her side amongst many others
sometimes i felt as if i was closest to a wave i could ever be, only to be washed away and be brought back to shore
you are that wave, and no matter how many times i am closest to drowning, no matter how many times you drag me back to shore away from you, i will keep swimming, maybe in the hopes that someday i'll be able to join you
and to every sunrise and every sunset of everyday
to every rainfall and to every sunshine we praise
you will always be on my mind no matter what weather or day
as stupid as i sound as a love sick fool, clinging to a wave that easily slips from my skin, that leaves a stinging sensation for every attempt i try to shoot for the heart
i will always be left with sand in my ears and lips cut in between
yet i will continue to watch for that wave, and the sun that peaks through, high up in the sky without a single cloud
i will watch until the layers and sheets underneath me crumble
and even 'til death, you will always be the reminder of the first love that never loved me back

n.j.

there was always this crack in her voice when she spoke, sometimes not too distinct but it was almost as if she was trying to block out the noise and the arms that try to reach
she stood like a wilting flower, head bowing at pavements and worn out tiles yet she possessed this beauty that signified the last dying hours of a queen
she was lovely but lacked being loved and although her hands were made to stretch out to pieces that could build her whole, she was always too lonely, too alone
her heart gravitated toward those who were broken and upon seeking she served as their comfort and they, as body parts, temporary but not permanent enough to keep her together
she was a puzzle piece that never fit, often dismantled and avoided but despite solitary, she ignited like a bleeding petal
an unperceivable watch on broken wrists, ticking the life out of human beings, a countdown forever on repeat
she would have never guessed how many hearts she could capture just by grasping them with her eyes, so departed and vacant from feet-up yet so alive
such a beautiful girl capable of suicide and saving lives of those who now continue to remain as survivors
yet any second, this wilting flower could give out and die
and sadly, her beauty wouldn't be enough to save her life

n.j.

I write this story of grief
On a piece of paper
Or a plastic cup
Whether be it filled with water
Have it crumpled up or torn apart
As long as I have a pen or pencil
A hand and mind to pour it out
I speak the words I'm spoken
And I write the things we were all about

Expressing in past tense
I try to recollect yet forget the past
Of broken edges that kept me safe and sound
From tempting love and growing lust
A hand that won't keep still
Partnered with a body with an aching itch
I trust my mind but it's my heart that speaks
A hand kept still, a hand craving for bliss

I am stuck at a loss for words
A pen in hand, the impatient ink
Teeth gritting for a paragraph of her
Pages kept blank, with a hand unstill
A pen or a pencil, longing for touch
A plastic cup, half empty, half gone
Mouth thirsty, craving for lust

n.j.

I know how painful it is to not know if the one you care for would ever return
I promised these words I thought I could keep and sealed each with a future we both thought we could forsee
I shed tears and you offered your shoulder despite the distance that laid in between
Every breath was beautiful, every emotion was genuine and never a disarray of words
Every night was an ending and every wake of mornings had their beginnings, we both knew we would be present in each one of them

At least that's what I thought

We are a mess, shambles of living flesh yet you and I served as each other's comfort for times of distress
Sometimes words need not be said for all you had to do was to pick me up with your heavy hands and envelop me in your arms, you were my blanket
But I was a deluge of restraint who chose to have her mouth sewn by demons which tempt me to repress
You welcomed me into your mind of aesthetically aligned scenarios and tragic memories
I was stepping into your life and you showered me with gifts of assurance, and it was terrifying
I didn't know how to respond to these reciprocating feelings
But I knew that I loved every minute of it

Days that were born grew older and faster than we're told and I was a helpless victim and witness to the hours of conversations that developed into tedious virtual words
I plead guilty for keeping my silence as I watched you mouth out poetry and wisdom
It was burdening to keep coming back so I left you waiting for uncertainty
You are the soldier at war and I am the wife that grew tired and deprived
I am the selfish individual that seeks for a refreshing start while you try to win me battles I choose to fight on my own
I was blinded and kept wanting for more but what you gave me surpassed the limits of overflowing
I am the fool, not you and each night the demons mock me names on top of one another
They have been growing ever since I departed from your mending surfaces
I tried to keep my distance, but it didn't work
I had already stitched up my hands with yours, and I tore away our body parts the day I didn't say goodbye
I spit out crimson and inhale regret, every day and night

And I know it would be easier to move on if you found out I was dead instead of accepting the reality to which I promised
But my mouth turned out to be a liar so I closed my heart and left
And I am profoundly sorry for saying those three words, but know that I meant what I said

n.j.

I have lost my words
Which I turn to for repose and release
They have disappeared and transformed
Into slurred speeches and mismatched colors
My fingers, they search for comfort
Lacing each other in confusion

I cannot find the words I am looking for
My thoughts have remained quiet for too long
What I thought was a spectrum I could rely on
Is as bland and dull as the skin I have worn

My eyes are a perception of lies
Only visualizing in black and white
My mouth a conception of verbal conundrum
Confusing and replacing words
Once so facilely found

I am born into a world
I'm not even sure I can call my own
I do not know where I am from
I cannot find the words I wish for anymore

n.j.



https://perennialink.wordpress.com/2015/11/06/unpoetic/

My hands are cold
And lonely like my soul
My lips are untouched
Craving for a kiss, wanting more
My body itches
Waiting for you to be by my side
My life is dull without you
Because you are the center
And love of my life

n.j.

I need to be saved
And wake up in someone else's arms
Feeling the absoluteness of security and love
Whether be covered in tattoos or scars
I'll accept you wholeheartedly
You're every embrace and flaw
Every feature I fall in love with
And everything else in between

I promise you this

But in return would you accept
Someone in need of saving?
Someone as ****** up as me?
Someone covered in detailed flaws
And darkened scars
From thighs to wrists?

n.j.

You're kind of like yesterday's rain
You're gone but not completely
I can still smell you
And feel your presence
How you set foot
And left your mark
But only for a while
Before you leave for good
And come back again
Unexpected
And I hate how you
Just leave without saying
A simple goodbye
Just a reminder that
You were there
And that you'll be
Gone again

n.j.

What's worse,
Is when you're trying to hold back the tears
Then it starts to hurt
It's like fighting between suffocating
And biting in the sadness
Of the things that were always worth

n.j.

I want to die

And that's not just a saying
I want to rip my lungs out
And stop myself from breathing
I've grown to hate not love
The so called "temple" He gave me
Day by day, always at thought
Accompanied with only the beauty of death
And the overwhelming feeling of envy
I'm tired and I just don't know
How to keep this facade on longer anymore
I'm sick in the head
But no one seems to care
I'm tired of the mistakes
And of the people who are never there

So I'm writing this poem
It's stupid I know
A bunch of useless thoughts
Put together for a final show
Maybe I'll be gone after you read the last word
Maybe I'll be crying to sleep again
Maybe I'll fantasize of shooting myself in the head
Maybe...

But I don't know

n.j.

Sitting behind a computer screen
Trying not to succumb to the temptations of self-loathing
Media has become the cause of my downfall
And the primary causation of self infliction
For months and years I thought and believed
That I was fine, that I was okay
But the slightest contemplation of death
Still brought me relief
I find my fingers running through the keys and letters
Scrolling past every page and article
The demons feed on the lack of confidence
The low self-esteem
And I, the degraded human being
I still set a goal for non-existence
A perfection too impossible to achieve
Yet I know that I’ll always be another face in the crowd
Another flame that’s about to die out
Another girl with too many scars,
Another girl bound to fall apart

n.j.

it's eating me away
clawing at my walls and corridors i built up to keep my feelings safe
i'll be their last meal for the night
and when dawn comes i'll be remains,
blood and bones ready to ignite

n.j.

loneliness is my best friend
so far, she's the only one who has stuck for so long
while the others up and left

n.j.