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s Oct 2017
No
he’s addicted to the high
from egotistical joy rides. he revels
in self pride, arrogance apparent in
his stride. but his confident exterior
is built from narcissistic lies. he can’t handle
hearing “no”- rejection leaves him mortified.    

this is not the first time
he's come to me ****-eyed.      
he asks for my consent, politely i deny.
he refuses to listen, preparing to defy.
my fear becomes palpable-
his desire
fortifies.

“no, no, no!” yet his hands
are on my thighs. “we have to tonight.”
his words cut like a knife.
i don’t understand why
i’m forced to comply. (this is my body,
don’t i get to decide?)

my bones calcify, my heart’s
a ship that’s capsized
i’ve been dehumanized and
yet i'm forced to act alive.

i look in the mirror
and let out a long sigh-
is it his soul or mine
that’s been demonized?
s Oct 2017
my mind is a war zone, my body’s shackled to depression
get to know me if you want to but use your discretion
i’ll push you far away and then i’ll beg for your attention-
i’ll convince us both it’s love though you’re merely a projection.
  Sep 2016 s
Sarah Caitlyn
it's the end of a less than
five minute conversation
some mumbled
excuse about exams
and a sighed okay
don't speak your mind
you know the repercussions
then that dreaded question
"are you mad"
at you?
no.
at myself?
maybe
at whatever being is
somewhere in
the universe?
I don't know.
But not you.
no, it's never you.
yeah, I know it *****
s Aug 2016
anxiety kicks down the door
and holds you at gunpoint-
he, who is the most unforgiving of all,
does not care where you come from,
what you’re doing, who you’re with.
he hijacks the system. he takes over
the plane you were trained to fly. he
is a terrorist who you cannot escape
from and you cannot imprison.

you are not safe in your body.
first piece, edited
s Aug 2016
anxiety is a terrorist
who holds me at gun point
and hijacks the plane that
i should be flying.
i don't know where we're headed
or what i'm going to do.

i am not safe on my own.
s Aug 2016
why
the things that i think about-
no one else would want to think about
and i'm convinced nobody does think
about them.

i treat my past memories as razor blades
and carve into my skin until
i am lacking sufficient blood
and i am struggling for oxygen.

i wish someone would explain to me
why you still have such a hold on me
and why your words still echo the walls of
my empty mind
especially on lonely nights
like these.

why can't i fall out of love with someone
who never loved me to begin with?
  Aug 2016 s
Charles Bukowski
you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
friction or
distress.
they dress well, eat
well, sleep well.
they are contented with
their family
life.
they have moments of
grief
but all in all
they are undisturbed
and often feel
very good.
and when they die
it is an easy
death, usually in their
sleep.
you may not believe
it
but such people do
exist.
but I am not one of
them.
oh no, I am not one
of them,
I am not even near
to being
one of
them
but they are
there
and I am
here.
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