you are still in the corner of vision
and you haunt my doorway
and i can see you in my lipstick and my computer and the reflection in every other girl’s face
i’ll swing around and my eyes will glow and your name will spring from my lips
only to not be you
it’s not fair,
but that’s just how it is
how it has to be
it’s not your fault that your shadow creeps around mine
or that i see you whenever i buy a stick of eyeliner
it’s not your fault that you were a hurricane and i was a house made of wood
your name hangs around still
and your eyes follow me through doors
i am ashamed of my infatuation
but i am relieved that you never knew
now i can keep you as a friend
no scars
clean
and
easy
break
i broke up
when i bit my tongue before speaking then kicked myself when i let my words spill
i broke up with the image i had built for you
the imaginary reality of you
you are a history book devoid of reality and only of pretty lies
but god lies have never been more beautiful

the novelty fades
along with the glamour
sprinkling down like a cheap glitter shower
a spring shower;
soft
creeping along your hairline with the smell of light lilacs in a secret garden
dribbling wonderfully through a greasy scalp
one of the most ****** showers that’ll take place for a while
leaving loose indentations and wet feet and a swirling drain clogged with six years of hair
i should have thrown myself a line
now there’s just stale-smelling rooms and a lost little creature
rich in words
shallow in talent
its mouth is a river and help help it’s drowning

my head’s turned to mush and my heart’s turned to stone
i'm a rock caught between the spokes of your bike
twirling and whirling my hair brushes the ground with the bumpity-bump-bump of each rise and fall
it's hot down here, so close to the pavement
worms are frying, they better watch out,
or the rubber sole of a midnight wanderer will eat them right up

also your feet stink I would wash your shoes if I were you 

i wish i wish i wish i wish
i wish i could make words fly from my tongue and spin worlds and not cower from the unseen
i wish i could melt through carpet and slip through cracks in the concrete
i don't want to be anymore
being is hard
i would be satisfied with a nonexistence
no more bridges to burn or heads to crack
no more bleeding eyes and empty shampoo bottles that cost too much and run out too early
no music that will get old
no glasses that will drain themselves
no more trying to fix something that isn’t there
no more pathetic musings
no more tear-stained pillowcases and forced laughter through one-way glass
goodbye persona 182
you were beautiful while you lasted

standing in the kitchen
just the two of us
and a flame
flickering blue
the smell of a gas stove
and your soap
that's too strong and too earthy
i lied and said that it smelled nice in the store
because you liked it
and now it simmers in the foot between us
and we watch the processed red "food" burn
from a can
beefaroni
watery thin red
it tastes like nothing
in the clear bowl we used since the beginning of time
intensely
words slip out
between the carefully guarded gates of my mouth
empty empty sad sad
all a facade
that you now see though
2 minutes together
and my mind is screaming
secrets well hidden
lies well deceived
you press the bowl into my hands
and turn out the light
"oops"
you apologize
no real need
i've walked enough times in the dark to know my way around
in the quiet pocket of my room
the 4 walls
soul witnesses to my fall
watch as my head spins
and my eyes close
heat burning through the bowl
burning fingers
but i don't feel anything
no more room for food
i can't find the strength to place it down
i wasn't really that hungry anyways

breathe in
savor this my dear
breathe out
this will be one of your lasts
breathe in
drink in the air
breathe out
taste the oxygen
breathe in
push the dust from your lungs, sweet one
breathe out
let it scatter among the air
breathe in
let it fill my own body
breathe out
this will be your last
breathe in*
goodbye

someone is breaking glasses outside my window
tink tink tink it’s a broken kind of pretty
the kind of pretty that rests in old mirrors and dusts on good books in hipster-esque shelves with smiles worn into their wood
tink tink tink
i think of the times when i thought i would be a person wild and free and that’s what i thought a person was

please let me break one too.

i've imagined being who you are it's what keeps me up at night and makes me sob and **** violently as i think of leaving marks on people the way you do
and i feel bad for you i really do but i also see your your eyes so cold and your lips forming insults and dodging away from me we're not calling a ***** a ***** here we're calling it a queen and worshipping it

underneath my skin is a creature
with hate for brains
rain for blood
liquid for solid
solid for liquid
its a ****** up creature and each breath is a victory
a challenge?
it doesn't know and it wails and hits me and hurts me
it paints on my thighs with purple and yellow and green
it paints on my fingers with tears and *** i don't wanna have
car ******* crash this car is ******* crashing and i want a **** cigarette

all i can break,
is my metaphorical fingers
as they **** and fly and zing and upchuck my thoughts,
barely there somehow i do not know i do not feel i am far away
and pummel and spit on and crush and **** and bite and tear and torture until they are out of my head and i am a silk sheet fluttering on a soft cold bed
by a father who felt compassion once
and maybe still does far away get out of his head, come back to earth listen come back to us
then maybe silk sheets would flutter and there would be colors and light and movement and pictures and more than this cracked broken glass jar theres no ship in this bottle just air and ants and the aftermath of a parched throat

days are spinning by and i think this is what remission feels like
empty apathy
and struggle
i wish i could write
better things
but this is all that i feel.

constantly losing battles is so hard
we play a losing game
monopoly maybe

i long for the person i used to be
or is this the person i’ve always been?

hold flowers between your fingers and think long and hard about something
something that you want real real real bad
maybe it’ll come true
probably not.

so full of pain trying to be subtle i should be bleeding
word choice alone
should have given you a clue
and the consistent undertone of raw pure unadulterated angst and bitter humor
that isn’t funny at all.

Adventures In Good Deeds
i helped pick up the trash and i thought about volunteering at a soup kitchen
if only i could find the on switch
5 Hour Energy .

am i decent enough for one word biographies?
do i hold enough presence for silence?
can i afford to not begin my sentences with sorry?
i am barley a person
just a body with good organs
and no license to complain
“ma’am kindly shut the **** up no one cares.”
that’s what they’ll say to me i’m sure
the thought police
who hate me and i don’t feel anything towards them
because i am nothing but apathy and stupidity
i don’t deserve anything
not joy or bad i don’t deserve either
not because i’m neutral but because i’ve never done anything to feel anything
not that i am undeserving of feeling the bad things
but there has been nothing in my existence to make me feel
spoiled brat woes and hearts sealed with classical silver duct tape
maybe a dash of pepper on a delicious meal that had no need for pepper
i don’t

Patchwork Happiness
on the dot
24/6
sunday’s for church where the atheist goes because he fears and dreams

i’m submissive,
to my small light rectangle,
rectangle of hope,
beeping with admiration and love,
an opportunity to scorn myself and read deeply into everything and imagine constant hatred and captured screen images shared with disgust and ellipsis
i want that hope and light and soaring amongst blue sky and hand holding
then i don’t want the inevitable tears as i imagine all the ways you hate me,
all the little cracks inside you, filled with hate for me,
love yesterday melted away,
leaving empty holes for hatred
reserved for me,
more than anyone,
because who’s worse than me?
your love is pretend,
i’m sorry,
i just.
feel like.
it is.
not that it’s you. you don’t make me feel like that.
my brain just
tells me that
!
i’m not sure if its you.
you snap at me a lot, you’re hard to read, but you have a soft heart and softer eyes and a big smile and nice lips that leave pretty imprints on my cheeks

i
don’t
know
you’re so perfect.
where in you is there room for love for me? i am so flawed, so underdeveloped?
will this be nothing in a year?
will we not be friends?
i’m scared but i did something. i did something i wanted to do. we’re more than friends right now. we’re relationship partner cheek kissing hand holding giggling people which is fine with me.
i hope not too much changes.
don’t be weird.
i hope you like me.

wanna **** myself and never see anyone again
my stomach is balled up and i turned my sun on and i wish it was off
i wanna lay down in a desert at night under the prickly arms of a cactus and have tarantulas creep across my flesh, while coyotes watch my slyly, i want to feel hunted and hopeless,
maybe adrenalin,
thrown away far down in the sand.
i wanna shovel sand down my throat
dry
small
i want it to get stuck in my teeth and creepy between my vocal cords and rattle with each inhale and exhale
i wanna snore under the stars and rot away,
with drying lips and dryer eyes, coughing up sand and blood,
lipstick on my teeth,
matte now, whether or not it was before
i want vultures to watch me,
with beady eyes and bald heads,
the men at school.
i wanna cry and die and not be able to cry because i have no tears left
i wanna rot in heat and sand and amongst nothingness
for the boundaries between reality and Keith Haring sunset painting and therapist offices with rainbow hands.

the emptiness fills me

like nothing else has ever done before

the emptiness ***** the thrill from me

like no death has ever done before

the emptiness kills me

slowly

softly

it doesn’t feel right
to write about you
i am sorry
i love you
a little
(i left my heart under your doormat)
(please don’t ever check)
i am sorry
for all of this
even though you probably didn’t know
(you might have)
i hope you never read any of this
i can’t get you out of my head
and you’ve throughly clogged my arteries
i am so sorry
i’ll be okay
i hope you are
i hope we both are okay
in the end
in the middle
in the now.

i’m sorry dad father baba

i’m so so so so sorry escape my lips time and again and again and again i’m made of apologies that i release with gusto in whimpers on any given day [problematic days] i have so many of them they lie under the surface and bubble and stew and boil and i’m sure they’re expected but not no none none whatsoever their nature is a mystery to Outsiders

if you don’t live in the Great Vast i cannot explain it there’s nothing there damp sweaters and apologies through blubbering mouths sewed to record players
but it’s there and it’s been there forever
and i know it will be there forever.

today is your birthday and i don’t know how old you are
i don’t even know the minute and hour and second i don’t know if this is your real birthday or not
we went to target and i splurged money that was not my own on a nice green shirt that you will wear under white jackets
i know you will do this because i know a part of you
a tiny part the part that is My Father.
you have given everything and not really hid but rather just never revealed who you are
tough tough tough i can spin words about the You that i know that will make my own head twirl and crack on the carpet just because i have seen a sliver of one of your selves
i think you are cruel.
i think that you have the outside lining of a teddy bear and the second self of a *******
and the real you is something i have never seen before.

you also got a family from different puzzle pieces this year
2 are lost 1 is faded and the rest are drug addicts
happy ******* birthday.

******
**** ****
****** **** **** ****

safety pinned skin
composed of stardust and sin,
capability within
i dont trust men
i dont trust men

i just can't remember
pulling up blanks
**** this i hate this
nothing comes as fast
its blurry
blurry as bushes in car windows
slang-packed
******

the end *******

starting is the hardest part
although ending is never easy,
i remain firm in my belief that starts are harder than finishes
how do i break my mind and move my hands?
teach me how to dance, teach me how to talk,
teach me how to walk again
move my legs for me and bend my fingers around the bottles
imprint them with your own personal brand,
and walk fast
push me ahead and tighten your fingers around my shoulders
i i  i i i i i i i i i i
i’m always talking about myself,
so tell me about yourself, if you will
i don’t want to know
but one never wants to know when they propose that question
they want to fill the long silence with something besides toe-tapping and nervous sips of cheap wine in a pretty bottle

and can you blame them?
long silences are like cinder blocks on the chest
the sooner you can crack them and mold them into something that passes as beautiful the better

and what other subject do we know better than ourselves?
let your words carve their way into the blocks
and find their caricature
they won’t reach my ears, or god forbid, my head
but that’s alright talk anyways
and i’ll blabber words i don’t understand and feel un-uniqe things

i’m not special, i’m just one in billions
infinity goes on and i blend right in

i can’t allow myself to make typos anymore, or say wrong things
because now i’m normal
normal normal normal no more repetition for me thanks

and i don’t want to be anymore i want to be ill and disgusting and pathetic

i’m a selfish ******* and i hate every bit of it

i only look good in half-light
with a cup of motivation
and music scratching in the tips of my ears
bare
no ill-fitting clothes
the ill-fitting skin is enough
just the meat suit and tight shadows
curling up my legs and over my arms,
twitching as they breathe down my neck,
it’s an incorporeal kind of feeling
this is a half-living you see,
the most effective coping method, i’ve found.
shut off half your brain and turn out all the lights
easier for the shadows to find you then
sit back
relax
let the phonograph sing you to a three-quarter dreamland where only the soft satin tendrils of sound stroke the insides of your earlobes and press themselves into your palms

fall back

it’s nights like this
when my fingers are sticky and reek of popcorn
and my stomach purrs like an antique car
that i cease to exist
just a quiet little thief
tucked away in a prison of white stucco
stealing oxygen and racking up an electricity bill with a lopsided pink lamp
honey on my face
a “beauty treatment”
an edible headband sunken into my hair
gnats crawling between my eyelashes
black dots just as hungry as i am
the music of the wind plays outside my window
rattling long forgotten memories
and stirring up dust of the past
there’s a constellation in my hand
universes up my arm
purple lines swirling together into incoherent shapes
semi-deep whispers escaping my lips
that are pale and dry and hurt to touch
bad pop music crawls through crackly headphones
same song, different artist
and my sheets
animal print, picked from years past and never changed
due to either nostalgia or laziness, the world may never know
disengage themselves from my bed
twine around my ankles
sly cats looking for milk
and hunger eats at my heart
i count the minutes as they spin on
by the soft timpani as it thumps eighth notes through my chest

just hormones
i tell myself
not real pain
not a big deal
but everything hurts and i want to die
just hormones 
hiding behind eyeliner
it masks the red 
i wasn't crying
allergies
mine are bad this time of year
i wasn't sad
why do you ask?
how ridiculous
i
don't
get 
sad
i don't need help
 i just need some time alone
no people
just the static crackling of a car radio a few yards away
a talk show with the volume **** turned too loud
screams and laughter from where my friends stand
they aren't like me 
they don't want me
i don't want them
i'll hide in a corner
hide behind a mask
of eyeliner
and lip gloss
cloaked in shadows
drip drip
goes the water
it's cold over here
but hidden
nobody can see me
i'm just another person on their phone
clipped into technology 
indifferent 
not in pain
just hormones 
i remind myself
you aren't really hurting
the slightest touch will turn your eyes into waterfalls
so stay hidden 
stay safe
it's ***** over here
bird **** on a window
how is it that even possible?
moist
disgusting
guarded by 6th graders
to afraid to approach me
but i can feel their eyes on me
creepy pasta
is what they discuss
as they beat their violin strings
with their bows
unpleasant noises
there's my mom's car
pulling up
get ready
smile
energy
brush your hair back
natural
act natural
"How was your day?"
hard
"Fine"
it's just hormones.

let me lay here
and whisper soft words to myself
as old spirits travel across my room
dancing on the ceiling
flickering across my vision
they shout things i can’t hear
invisible to my eyes
invisible to my ears
let me fight back tears
and give up
let me wish
for things i’ll never have
let me hate everything
let me hate myself
let me harden
be indifferent
no more pain
the spirits prance across the ceiling
a show only for me

she deals out kisses like hard candy
with a coy smile
and a swivel of her hips
a sweet little laugh
that sounds like ice
before you know it
she'll have your heart in her hands
"love" is what she'll call it
and you'll believe it too.
but "love" doesn't last long
with a swivel of her hips
and a sweet little laugh
your heart will go with her
and you'll just be another name off her list
another heart in her jar.

my brain is a garden in the fall
cold and dry and lifeless
bright prospects, once blossoming are long wilted over now,
throughly stomped by thick-soled boots

and discolor sets in.

filled with the fallen, it has been throughly raked apart, spread across the front lawn and scratched into lumps. they’re run over and jumped on and i just feel twinges in them now

there's a certain music to crying
a steady tempo in the organs as they shake
the bass drops with the shaky hands
your heart as i run you like a treadmill
boom boom
that's the chorus

the background music as it plays and plays
you can’t turn it off

it's too loud
not loud enough

the steady drip drop drip drop of tears as they fall over everything
your hands as they shake
i can feel them through the cheap plastic of the phone
it’s the best kind of conductor

everything is shaking
the speakers are turned up too loud

Hotel California
is my recording studio
where i go to **** my friends
burn all my bridges
the flames make my eyes sting
and my nose run
this pillow is too hard
but nothing is really soft, is it?
everything is rough and tough and western
old cowboy movies in sepia
the kind that my daddy watched
the kind he filled his mind and body with
life is dust and steel and gunshots
senselessness
under all the glamour
there's nothing
just sharp edges and loud music 

so much snot
how am i still secreting it
i thought it would have run out by now
after years and years and tears and tears I should be dry by now

i'm just a record machine
spitting hits back up as I wobble on unsteady pegs

i scream out the Eagles like nobodies business
i bleed lyrics and drip smooth jazz

i’m a music machine 
this little number is one of my own
i call it "what have i done"

will you hold my sheet music close to you?
sleep with it under your pillow? 
keep it balled in the bottom of your pocket?
or will it be pawned off to the highest bidder?
i weave my anthem and you absorb every word
mine
yours 
ours now
our music
don't let it float away dear

i can feel all the bones in the back of my neck
with my hands
protruding
hard
rounded
under the tight blanket of my skin
they keep my head up
big job they have
it’s always hanging down
heavy with the weight of little things that don’t really matter
so few in numbers
so many in strength
curled into a ball
i can feel each one
a little bump beneath my skin
can they really be connected?
blankets curled around my feet
too hot
too cold
the quiet light falling over me
there's a skeleton inside of me
that's all i am
underneath all this blubber
bones
i feel my neck bones
heavy with the weight of little things

i think bodies are just vessels for soul
they are not who we are, they are not the definition of us
they’re just storage until we pass on to that place that is neither great nor terrible nor recognizable or nameable in the slightest
not a heaven or hell
a feeling in the direction we touch as up
nothing there
nothing we have words to describe
it’s a just

pull me through time pull me through rips in the universe that my gods scratched with harsh voices
bask in the pale of ignorance and the lack of structure in my words
bathe in my pretentiousness
and look for the beauty
in the small things
the spot on her nose and the way a pine tree smells
scream scream scream because i'm almost something scream scream scream because i can't feel who i am from the inside of myself scream scream scream because i have lost so much i have suffocated a person inside of me scream scream scream
whisper whisper because i hurt myself today whisper whisper because there's ink in my veins now whisper whisper there's purple underneath my nails and it isn't my own whisper whisper whisper
i'm turning my suffering down so i can fit into the lives of others and be comfortable i cannot bare to take up all the space my body wants me too
what will happen?
i will slip under the quicksand and my body will go back to the earth
which is pretty okay all considering I CAN HEAR A CAR SCREECHING I CAN HEAR A LIFE FLEETING I CAN FEEL THE WORLD SPINNING AROUND ME I COULD JUMP OFF I COULD JUMP OFF IF I COULD FIND AN EDGE

ok
no
no
no
i'm not
i haven't been
and i never will be
but i'll pretend
sink deeper into the recesses of mind
the darkest corners
walls made of  loathing
and anger
and envy
no
no
no
i'm not okay
"I'm okay."

dawn is the best time for musings
the light is semi-bright and it casts everything into slanted shadows
it sets an artistic kind of tone,
a pleasantly cold atmosphere
my letters spin out clearer
my sentences flow out oh, so much better
it’s morning but not quite
every thing is still still
not as a grave, more so a comforting blue-white blanket over a pair of legs
cars don’t dare rush by, no dogs risk a bark
just the synchronized breathing of a thousand resting minds
and cool blast of conditioned air as it circulates around the room
it’s too late for the monsters to come out,
and i can traipse fearlessly through a castle of sheets and words that i cannot say when the sun shines brighter
the world is still young

i'm not interested

in living anymore

i don't want to die
living just doesn’t hold much interest for me

i don't feel good

i don't feel happy
only tired

tired tired
 always tired
i live in a perpetual nothingness

i can never find words
they lodge in the back of my throat and spiral out flat

may as well cut my vocal chords out
and replace them with yarn
maybe i’ll be able to string sentences together then

i’m buried in layers of ink and skin
they allow me to close my eyes and fall away
into my own personal oblivion

where it's dark and jazzy elevator music plays in the background
and there’s no sharp pings under numb detachment

there's a different breed of darkness to my oblivion
it's soft and shadowy
rippling over all my anxieties like a velvet tide
light shines in dusty shafts from no set direction
it doesn't illuminate anything
it’s nicer that way

i forgot what happiness feels like
not this halfway happiness that’s induced by comfort food and fuzzy blankets
but real happiness
that comes from deep inside of your being and spirals and glows

this is just a long complaint

hem hem

observation
about me

my life

is it really mine?

i feel so detached from it

i spend more time in dreams than i do in it
sweeping castles of words and swing sets that swing themselves


can i just leave?
fade away
into my oblivion
the one with the jazz music and the infinite velvet walls
i've come pretty close
may as well go all the way

i'm an inadequate mess of negativity
i can't function quite right anymore
unfunny angry pathetic boring
i'm me
and i don't hate me
hate is a strong word
i'm just tired
a slowly graying towel
long used and recently wrung-out
hung up to dry
dripping mediocracy onto a standard tile floor

ha

i'll show myself out

seismic waves
are so pretty
so elegant
so refined
when they’re not worn between you and the ground

she was like a splash of acrylic paint
on a canvas of watercolor
she did not fade in
she did not soften
she was bright
bold
beautiful
something different
the other watercolors
whispered and laughed
she held her head high
but i could see her lips tremble
they pulled her into them
they watered her down
she sunk into the canvas
just a little discolored spot on the paper

11:29 PM
how long has it been 11:29 PM i wonder
how many times have we leapt in circles through space,
and how long until it will be 11:30 PM i wonder

11:32 PM
how long ago was it 11:29 PM i wonder
and did my headphones say “small” or “smart”
sing it again if you please, i beg of you
i just can’t quite catch it
the webbing of my ears was built by a faulty spider,
drunk on success, he was
one too many flies he caught in a day, they say behind hands in soft voices
now his work is a mere shadow of what it used to be

8:24 PM
i can’t bare moving my eyes upward
and seeing 8:25 PM
it would make my stomach twist and my organs grow cold
2 minutes line my eyes with dark marks and i’m only existing on a plane of melancholy

2:46 PM
i
want a reason to be sad
i need justification
i need a reason
not an excuse
because the world is cold and my printer broke
and i lost my favorite stuffed animal
and i’m not a five year old anymore
because i ******* hate Nike so ******* much

somewhere past 11:23 PM
i lost the minutes in a haze of emotional speeches, never to be heard outside the blue-lined walls, and steam
a fuzzy 11:40 PM reflects a faint shape of a vessel,
carrying one soul,
destination; THE END
arrival time; unknown
eyes brimming with anxiety i exist outside my head only

i lost track of the time
i don’t know if it’s dawn or dusk or day anymore
i only know muted poundings and pathetic drops of water across the floor
the white white white white white floor
i should get a watch

it's been a long time since i strained my mind
tried to make words and sentences
and i think i forgot how
i can only remember the late nights with my christmas eyes and throbbing hands
now my veins are fit to bursting
although it's been so long
truth be told,
i don't think i feel enough any more
mild annoyance
and the occasional bouts of apathy and despair
i'm a one-way train and i'm going in circles
there was an episode of the twilight zone, where a couple had been dropped in a mysteriously empty town
and it buzzed with the sounds of silence
a child’s laughter echoed above them
and they were frantic little rats, the **** of a human-napping
there was a train they rode, an empty train, that moved in circles,
it was their last salvation, it was to move them from the eerie town to their own home
instead in drove them in a full circle
it turns out they had been abducted by aliens but that's beside the point
i'm a little train
leading myself to hope and wonder and safety
instead i'm back where i started
the only difference being the fear ridden needles pricking at my stomach now
i can feel them going deeper
i can feel them getting sharper
they'll be unbearable soon but i don’t think about that
instead i think of the promise lands,
of ice that isn't hot and a grand estate and a playground that doesn't smell like old french fries
a permanent state of dawn,
filled with pastel and richness and unadulterated beauty
there's a toothpick lodged between craggy teeth
it's dead dead dead but it's so beautiful
the rising sun that embodies the word majestic
and there's a pair of strong hands can guide me through my time
a constant plane of calm and a constant feeling of happiness
it's such a nice feeling, warming as it pumps through your blood and explodes in your chest
spreads fast it's content and it shakes me to my core
it runs so fast, just there and gone

i'm in the station again now
bags packed
eyes duller than a broken doll's
i’m ready to go go go go go
take me on another circle i need the closure

i don’t know where The Pond With The Red Dock is
[turn past the black boots and the corner of infinity
it is only spoken with ashy lips
carved out of pure reality]
[in actuality it’s an ocean]

i like to look in the mirror
and dissect the person staring back
until features are just jagged lines
and stolen shapes
protruding chin
witchy nose
curved into a long *****
a beard of pimples
surrounding small lips
and a mustache to strike envy into any man
caterpillar eyebrows
darker than the hair on my head
which is dry and flat and falls into my face
chipmunk cheeks
practically falling out of wide cheekbones
long legs
too skinny
knobby knees
hairy white tree trunks
that i suppose pass for legs
spider fingers
no curves
just a pale board
with eyes and skin covered in mold
and red
always red
from
tears
always tears
society's worst fear stares back at me
"ugly"
my own words
i say them to myself now
i see your point

my barricade has become a prison
4 walls that shrink every day and slowly cut off my oxygen
they worked too well i sing to them in a melancholy tone
more often heard in the mouths of whales
there's a sea of bones and they’re pricking at stray scraps
look out there, past where the sky meets the earth
if you look hard enough you’ll see it
cold and empty and sloshing it calls to me now
“leave me now” i say to the space beside me
before you go pre-heat the oven to 950
i need a warm place to rest and that sounds about right
skeletal hands grip around my expanding skin and pull me down
tight tight tight they sew me a corset of my own rough skin
teeth flood my throat and scratch at my collarbone
self-inflicted sorrow
heart disease in a can
barreling through my system, how much longer do i got, doc? 
my bones are unknitting and my brain is unraveling
pink tendrils sinking to the bottom of my skull, goodbye little ones, i never did use that much anyways
my skin peels beneath my fingers and my light won't turn out
5 am and i'm a halfway alcoholic all i need is the *****
my capillaries have frozen and i'm an ice rink now
sliced and diced and punched into shape
ready to ride over 
no words left no line gaps no punctuation 
who has time for that when they're doing nothing?
i haven't eaten in a week
and i'm still spewing everywhere
pressure points and muscle strands oozing against my frame
i can feel all my ribs beneath my hands
and the jelly will vaporize and i’ll just soften
maybe if i push hard enough the skin around them will shatter and i’ll collapse inward

well now
it appears that i’ve undone myself

i can still smell my hair dye and see the sweet similar smiles of the people who put it in my hair and i can still smell your shampoo and see your tongue tarnishing my name and i can see you looking at people in the cold way you looked at me and the cold way that you hurt me and i can see your hair flicking and you drawing people in and making them see a person who isn't there a reflection it only shows the pretty parts not who you are and i can see those similar smiles smiling and laughing and i can hear you making everyone hate me and ******* honestly ******* to hell

LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIARLIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR YOU WANTED ME BECAUSE I WAS SHINY AND YOU REALIZED I WAS SCRATCHED AND LEFT LIAR LIAR LIAR

i seethe when i hear your name i hate it!

hate it! hate it! hate it!

why are you so far in my head why are you pulling all the strings why are you yanking my chain and letting me walk like a dog who's been in the yard all week and is tired of smelling his own **** and wants to go smell some other dog's ****

how did i let you in isn't there a rule against this you feel like a vampire you ****** up all my happiness and confidence don't you have to ask before crossing a doorway did you ask or did i invite you in

i've cried so many nights and i lie and say my medication needs to be upped and that i'm just in a bad place but if i'm being honest here, and i'm trying to be honest, as honest as you were not, you lit everything inside of me on fire and watched me burn and only when i asked if something was cooking did you call the fire department

i've cried enough tears to put out three of me three of what you lit inside of me and i want to cry now and the tears are at the brim of my eyes and peeking out and murmuring nervously they don't know if they're ready to stop yet they just started existing and now they're about to stop and die and there's no hotline for them to call what do they do they retreat back today they take deep breaths and use coping skills

tomorrow they will take breaths and using coping skills and tell a trusted adult in their life when they wanna fall over the brim and cease to be

quiet minds lightly preoccupied
unspoken words that don’t need to be said
a white house in a white room
where all the light is green
pushed through an old bottle
just the three of us, like it used to be
    -minus one
naivety lost
it’s shadow still hangs in the dustiest corners of the room
i leap through velvet mountains
and dive through smokey books
no sounds can penetrate the walls of our silence
i can see the smile in your eyes
twisting your face for the first time in forever
giggles and remnants of the past
as we delve into years back
of white afternoons

i miss myself

****,
i was eloquent
****,
i was going places
****,
i was so young
****,
i'm still so young

****
is all i can muster, these days.
my poetic musings crammed into red-indigo-dark blue,
whereas i was pretentious
starry-eyed,
with a moonlight filled mouth always open

i was hopeful beauty and grace
and my mind was always spinning,
music was not compatible with me,
too much going on up there,
didn't need anything else.
all i do is music now.

man,
i'm just sad now,
sicker than before.
my feet always tapping,
complaining of a bad back,
weak stomach,
poor eyes,
short memory,
knotted stomach,
i'm writing pill bottles and music instead

where am i?
i don't know where i am now
i feel so trapped and lost
out of control
not healthy,
this isn't,
nope.
i ******* know it and i know that i'm so gone

i crack my fingers and clear my throat
trying to force out something that was once so natural,
something that kept me alive in my time of sparseness and loneliness
i can't remember a single friend from that time
i am my best friend now
and it's strange how things come and go,
the ebb and flow,
one day i'm lost in mania and bright lights and open mouthed kisses and the next
i am contemplating my solitude,
hunching my back and spending all my time in front of a mirror
there is much 2 see
there is much 2 be
i'm working on myself
by myself
for myself
i have room for others but they have to knock
i'm not inviting anyone in,
who knows
who's a bloodsucker
who's a *******

who knows who knows maybe a hope filled who knows maybe a less bitter, hope filled,
    who knows

1
mania
brightness
kisses
false kindness
hope
happy times
lies lies lies

2
emptiness
gray
black shirt
ill fitting jeans
dry hair so dry dry dry dry
a girl held it and remarked
on it
and i cried that night
my heart was so large
so so so painfully soft
and virginal when faced with reality

3
no food
no food
no food
not allowed
no hope

now

progression?
regression?
i'm going somewhere and that's better than nowhere
maybe my words will take up a lilt again
and i'll rhyme cleverly again
maybe i'll find a happy medium

who knows who knows