It's hard to see
people growing in pain
like plants among thorns

Like the girl
who had running as
her drug of choice
cuts on her shoulders
trying to release her pain

The boy
who talked with his body
his freshmen year spent
sleeping to avoid
emptiness

The girl
with cat eye makeup 24/7
who tried to drown herself
an effort to escape
her maze of self-criticism

The boy
smiling as he talked
despite scars on his wrist;
a nearly permanent solution

The girl
semicolon on her ankle
asking me each morning:
"Why can't I die?"

I remember them all
the stories they gave me
the pain they confided in me
storing it in someone else
like a rusty file cabinet
in an abandoned room

Tension within my chest
like wearing a too-tight t-shirt
as my heart fights to escape

My body yearns to run
like a startled hare
to fly like a hummingbird
to fight like a hyena
to do anything to relax

My worries fly in my head
like hornets aiming for
my weakness and
my insecurities

Breathing tightens my chest more
trapping me in ****** quicksand

Journaling makes me more aware
of my heartbeat thumping
like a Shakespearean actor spouting
iambic pentameter in my core

I know all of this will fade
like the end of a scene in a play
but I can hardly wait, tears
standing at the ledge of my eyes
waiting to jump off the cliff

If I met her today
would I be ready?

Would we walk past that fence
chain-linked where I first saw her
checkerboard shadows on her face?

Would we go to the cornfields
and play hide-and-go-seek
chirping like lab rats?

Would she rub her nose against mine
and kiss me, feeling my stubble
sharp like quills on a hedgehog?

Would she hug me at a funeral
church bells swaying slowly
like a Foucault pendulum?

Would I rub her back, listening
the river in her voice sighing,
"My personal therapy man"

Would I whisper of her beauty
holding her as I feel her life
pulsing like a symphony orchestra?

Have I imagined it?
Does she even exist?
Would we even be possible?

I wish we were strangers
unknown to each other
like a pair of betta fish
separated for their safety

I still feel that old sorrow
like an ancient wine
fermented past shelf life
too moldy for anyone

That smile is poisonous
worms nestled in a snail
controlling all thought
to be eaten by the birds

Talons barely miss my skin
glazing over my neck softly
my only femme fatale

I sit quietly in my bed at night
reliving her reluctant death
her betrayal deep in my eyes
leaving her only with regrets

Lying in my bed
everything is dark
save one cell phone
the screen glowing
like dim blue luminol
sprayed on old blood

The room is packed
with various screams
desire from years ago
unchecked and ignored
an undiagnosed patient

My bed is a deserted oasis
circled by cardboard boxes
all filled with old skeletons
mangled and unidentifiable

My phone's battery dies
sudden like a faulty switch
forcing me to accept fate

Quiet tension
sounds ceased in class
except for the dull hum
of angered electronics

Secret tension
that angry face
glaring at me
inside the mirror

Quiet tension
a silent alarm
the bank robbed
all the loot taken

Secret Tension
a voodoo doll
put to its rest
the face removed
finally inactive

Secrets
all made public
a facebook post
told by alcohol

Secrets turning
to known facts
like the spies
found in their homes

The game changer
the fear inducer
the noise bringer

The tension is gone
leaving pain instead
and it is here to stay

Longing for someone
an unfitting feeling
like the math teacher
with a New York accent
teaching in Wisconsin

Waiting
for the baton to go down
so I can stop pretending
and let the anger free
the last note of an opera

Tuning out
like putting earbuds in
everything echoes through
but falls short from me
an incomplete pass
or a fumble

Moving on
infinite and torturous
an unending bootcamp
ending only in tears
and a reinforced spine