What’s the difference between unwanted and unneeded?
You’re unnecessary, verging on disappointment, disgrace
Breaking faith and bond, hoarding intent and hopes false
Unnecessary child

Give me pure existence
And watch me lose my mind
Without meaning
I’m fingerless and blind
Give me pure existence
And watch me lose my heart
Without love
I’m a stringless puppet

Sometimes I look at you and wonder when
exactly, when
the beginning of your voice
started sounding like a scratched record

and at what point, exactly,
did your eyes change to being so dark
all of the time

I want to know at what point, then
had you learned to smile so factitiously
and **** in your gut
and pose at the right angle

I want to know, more than anything
when you started being so
miserable
all the time.

And the more I think about it,
about you,
existing,
the more terrified I feel.

Tailor-made,
You’re full of form
And ache.
You’ve covered yourself in knots, you can barely make
Out your own doubt,
And where it’s coming from
Now.

Darling blue,
You speak in rhymes, you soar through acres
To the same old room.
You’re a head full of ideas, and a heart that craves and craves
To be real,
And to feel more than you can keep
In one place.

But you can’t hold such hope, without a helping hand;
And you can’t trace the clouds, without losing yourself in them.
No, you won’t know the rush, without the halt and the loneliness;
And you won’t ever love, without hurting time and time again;
But you will anyway.

I hope you wait for the one,
I hope you find happiness,
I hope you love more than life can give.
I hope you live without hurting,
As much as I know that you will.

Maybe we’ll get through this.
Maybe we’ll get through this.
Maybe,
Maybe we won’t.

Maybe we’ll get through this.
Maybe we’ll get through this.
Maybe,
Maybe we won’t.

Just don’t lose hope.
Just don’t let go.

She sees the pain around her,
and understand their fears.
She is far too conscious
of other people's tears.

She hurts herself to cope
with all of these sad stories.
She doesn't understand her thoughts
and is terrified of insecurity.

She learns her thoughts are normal,
and that she is far to kind.
She must not worry,
because her friends are not far behind.

loveless
sings the bats in the stale night
--bats are often eyelashes of this night and they travel in packs--
while contending for the tender fruit
i imagine they are well fed with treasure
       but oceans love
is the wave i seek in this molded night
   to that known to be a saturated vibrancy
content is the ripe mind as my legs do unravel
wet and moist does this mind bring the most  voluptuous promises of oceans love
as these waves hit at my ankles knees hands neck lips cheeks eyes forehead
engulfed is the skin with the salt and a rush of an unforseeable force neither containable or predictable
i am so wet

I am the bobby pins and hair clips you find in corners of your room, on your dresser, or behind your bed.

I am the pictures on your wall that I made when I was once manic.

I am the crumbs you find in your bed that was once my “three or four nights a week bed” which I used as a table.

I am the cafe where we met, and kept meeting.

I am day drives to no where.

I am the Middletown train station before the movies.

I am the mint lotion that keeps the bugs away.

I am the notes I would leave you, that found their way on your wall.

I am the bandaids.

I am that strand of medium length brown hair you will find in your shower

I am that guy, from trivia at that other cafe, that I wanted us to be friends with.

I am the hands that would unlock your locked pointer finger.

I am that key on your key chain.

I am the leftover tea that is always too hot for me to drink, and is left near your bed.

I am ice cream with CHERRIES, and edamame.

I am the sheets on your bed.

I am the downing film theater when you needed to feel better.

I am New Jersey.

I am the reason Netflix recommends Independent dramas with strong female lead. I am the netflix.

I am the stain on your mattress.

I am the drool on your pillow.

I am the sugar in your cabinet above your roomates whiskey.

I am all of the groceries and dates I paid for.

I am all those pictures of me on your phone which made their way to your computer.

I am the light wash boyfriend jeans.

I am that bottle of wine that sits with all other bottles, that you see when you walk out of your room and into the kitchen, and out the door.

I am the reason you once felt content.

I am the reason the corkscrew sits on that stool.

I am the reason why your toothbrush is wet, before you use it.

I am the two red sharpie marks left on those sheets that I got us.

I am mexico. The trip to mexico that could have almost seemed doable.

I am the sent of oils which remind you of hippies.

I am the shoes left at your door, or the teavana jug of tea in the kitchen right now.

I am the fourth of July. I am that pool we never swim in. I am the projected films on the fence.

I am the talker, the thought keeper, the fighter, the writer.

I am Sensual Amber

I am UBE

I am my legs on the wall when I dry them.

I am the tiny pills on your dresser.

I am just someone your next girlfriend will be better than.

I am the bobby pins.