I can’t help these thoughts
of not being good enough,
of being a burden,
of self hate and insecurities,
of death and the many ways
I could finally be released
from this Hell of a life.
But then again it is my own fault.
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah it’s fine.”
“I understand.”
“Oh no don’t be.”
“I’m sorry.”

January
She is the start
She is the failed resolutions
She is the cold

February
She is the love
She is the new relationship
She id the hope

March
She is the gold
She is the green
She is there

April
She is the joke
She is the rain
She is the heartbreak

May
She is the beauty
She is the spring
She is the new beginning

June
She is the happiest
She marks the best time
She is a party

July
She is america
She is warm
She is the summer

August
She is the end to the fun
She is the start of something new
She is horrible

September
She is the beauty
She is the hardest
She is the Autumn

October
She is the scariest
She is the start of the end
She is the cavity

November
She is thanks
She is acknowledgement
She is the leaves on the ground

December
She is the snow
She is winter
She is the end.

I am in relationship prison.
Being told when I will have a visitor
Never knowing for sure day-to-day
Always on someone else's terms.

My voice silenced.
Not for lack of a voice but
Learned behavior that expressing my feelings lands me in isolation
So I stay quiet.

There are no romantic words
Or tenderness.
No making love just
*****, slutty, impersonal ***
To feel something. Anything.

"Good morning (prisoner)"
Is what maintains this relationship.
No other conversation
Words that are superficial and empty
Until "lights out" at the end of the day.

Resentment and anger begins to build
Innocent of whatever crime that
Landed me in this awful place
Just praying for a pardon and
A glimmer of compassion.

"It is hard to maintain a relationship in prison.
It is deeply frustrating."
I once heard a prisoner say.

There will be gloomy days when
you will look back at your old self
and think about this one choice you made that
changed your life in many ways
You will think about the day you decided to leave
You left family and friends behind
hoping to find a better future on the other side
You were young and naïve
you were that quiet kid that
no one thought could ever leave
yet, on that September 6th 2013
holding hands with Fear and Hope
you boarded a plane that took you miles away

There will be gloomy days when
you will wonder why
on that day Fear didn’t pull you aside
and tell you that life
wasn’t going to be as bright on the other side
You will wonder why that quiet kid
had this strong need to leave
You will look back in sadness
and grieve the loss of those happy times you took for granted
You will be drinking the same coffee
mum used to make you on a Saturday morning
and you will be listening to those songs
dad used to play in the car on a Sunday afternoon
You will grieve what it feels like a loss
of those you have always loved

It’s on these days that you will feel alone the most

Inside your head it will be as dark as the sky
on a rainy winter afternoon
and your eyes will be as heavy as grey clouds
ready to let the rain pour down

It’s on these days that you will grieve the most

Though, they say there is always calm after a storm
and no matter how brief it can be
you will eventually find some peace
and it’s within this peace that
you will find the strength to remember that
not everything is as gloomy as it seems
It’s within this peace that
you will honour that quiet kid
who is no longer as quiet as they used to be
and it’s within this peace that
you will celebrate their new life as a fearless kid

When things feel
Both so very wrong
And so very right
At the same time

It becomes
A fight
Within yourself.

l.v.s

the weight of all my previous selves
is perching at my back
if i look slumped, not steady
i’ll be fine, it’s just temporary
maybe. hopefully.
i feel so heavy

is there a future me ahead
or will i finally settle?
when i know me, when i’ve found myself
will it be set in stone
bricks and mortar
whispering promises of home

or do i wash away again
like mud on concrete?
if the rain pours, i slip away
but then, but then
it’s okay! because then, then
the sun shines on a stronger me beneath

so i think myself finally whole because
i can hold the weight of the world
i am concrete.
i am washed away.
i am resurfaced clean, if bruised,
a pathway for all to find steady feet

‘til the cracks in the concrete reappear
‘cause i know, i know
i’ll let you walk over me,
that somebody will plant a seed in me
the roots will shove up and up
break through me
‘til shattered but still existing is all i can be

i am constantly remaking myself,
constantly being remade.
is anybody anybody
if we’re all endlessly changed?
this sense of self i have this day
i have no faith that it’ll stay

how many drill bits to the brain
does it take to make concrete fall away?
how many new faces
‘til a man, this man, that man, the man
‘til I go insane?