Moths, searching for the sun,
Draw towards all light
Even if it is nothing
But a broken, flickering lightbulb

It's all coming down.
That which I built up over the years,
brick by brick
with bleeding hands.

I realise now
what it all meant,
those unthought actions and
unacted thoughts.

And I see it all before me
like the sad endings of the movies
you don't want to watch.
Your face in the mirror just like
you wish it wasn't.
Secrets in a drawer and
you regret having looked.

Each story they tell you is like
another dash
- on the canvas that shouldn't be
painted.

Maybe there's a reason for it all
and one day you'll be given a diploma
you don't really need.
Because they're telling us
you'll learn.

But what do you do when you
haven't learnt yet
and the mistakes are still
being made?

And that which you are hiding from
is chasing you
like the sea at your ankles and
it's too cold
so you're running
and you're scared
because this wave is bigger
than the one before.

Suddenly you're drowning
down and down
until you feel your palms press
flat
against the bricks from all that time
before.

You open your eyes for just the
slightest second
to see them stained red
and you know where that's from.

But they're in your way,
why won't they budge?
And you feel yourself
slipping away from under
whatever it was you used
to shield yourself.

It's all fading
and the bricks are
rebuilding themselves
but only in your mind because
that is what happens at
the end.

And you're wishing you had smiled
at the boy on the swing who
didn't yet know the world
and the girl running out of the
school gates on her last day
and the old couple who
kept on bickering.

You wish you had smiled
before it was too late.

I am a coward. It is my weakness, and in knowing this I should be made stronger. However, my weakness perpetuates my weakness. My meekness and desire for peace makes me **** near gutless.

         I write to love. I write to dance. I write to feel.  I write to live.

I could have sat with the gangrenous, seeing the sawing teeth shred skin to cut further in. I could have held the hand of the dying; saying soft soothing words while they were vomiting blood. I could have joined the ranks of the foreign legion, became a non-religious missionary. I bet my writing would have been improved and all my other talents better used.

As I said before I am a coward. My heart breaks easily from poetry, movies, songs, photos, and tv shows. Imagine how quickly I would crumbled faced with the real reality. If I could see the seething rage, feel the ****** stumps, clean the bandages, while listening to their horror stories how easily I would break. Worse than Humpty Dumpty with smaller bits that crack and split permanently deformed, spiritually desolated.

I can watch the wicked human show from a distance. I can immerse myself in the darkness, but there must be a quick escape. I have to have a switch to click and make the nightmares go away. If I stayed, my thought would stray to the razor blades or pill bottle ways.

         I am a coward. I am sorry. So here the naked man is with all of his cowardice. I am sorry I could not be a better less bitter superman. All and all I am so terribly sorry for my weakness.

The song we once loved now a funeral song.
The sweater you used to wear when it was cold can no longer keep you warm.
The last voicemail I left just a cry for help that will never be heard.
The words I needed to say are locked in a safe that no one knows the combination too.
This feeling of regret drowns me like the time my father threw me in the pool to teach me how to swim.
The taste of coffee on my lips can never rid the taste of your mouth.
My heart is beating in a monotone tempo. It doesn't skip beats anymore.
My stomach only handles nothing.
My body feels less and less everyday.
The empty bottles are speaking for themselves.
I don't want to live like this.
I don't want to live at all.

grant,
i was not tired of
running until
the first time
you held my
hand and said
its okay,
be still,
be quiet,
be brave

with you,
time moves
slowly

and i
let
it

he’s telling me about the girl at school
he can’t get out of his head,
and how he feels like
it’s always this chain of
"i don’t want all these people that want me,"
(i winced)
“and the one person i want doesn’t want me
in the same way.”
(i inhaled sharply)

i told him he’s overthinking it,
and when he asked, “how do you not?”
(i forgot to breathe)

my eyes got watery, but i blinked quickly
before they could settle
(i exhaled)

and replied,
“i'll let you know.”