we spend each season,
yearning for the next
jumping head first
into salt water
wishing it were leafs,
or kicking up leafs,
wishing it were snow

we just never stop
wishing long enough
to feel ourselves grow

then one day we wake up
to a shy sun, not yet fully risen
and the windows are closed,
and the blinds are drawn,
and for one half of a second
we look in the mirror
and we have no sense of time,
no sense of season...
we're just so much older
older than we remember
and we don't know
how or when it happened

the baddest addictions
are with good intentions
not to cause harm
but to feel okay
I can say
I've never broken an arm
never been under
a sadistic charm
broken myself
but healed up again
kept going back
to feel my heart
patiently beating
poisonous thoughts
are like cyanide
so easy to think
it's even easier to die
the more addictions I have
the better I seem to feel
how tragic is that?
life has some
but no appeal

i'm not scared of the dark
or being alone
or crowds
or monsters
or strangers
i'm not in fear of things
but i worry
i worry over everything
it stresses me to my core
devours my mind
makes me sleepy
if only i could sleep
i worry about the stupid things i said
i worry about the work expected of myself
i worry about my future
i worry about the judgements others make of me
i worry about the way i stepped left today
as i rip myself to pieces
just because i should have stepped right
i cry over my own thoughts
the worries i create drown me
literally
i worry about a mole on my skin,
what if it's melanoma?
i worry about how much i worry,
what if it's anxiety?
well i think it is
but i don't want to say it
what if people think i'm crazy?
i would rather be stressed