Fighting the sensations;
I am speechless and consumed
With nothing
       As well as everything.

The drinks all taste the same.
Conversations become dulled down
       To empty promises.

Skeletons of chandeliers;
Ghosts of past lovers.
       Memories distorted.

The inadequate use of words
Dripping off your
       slurred tongue.

I’ve been burned before,
Leaving me fearless                 in front of the fire.

Searching for a cure;
In the coffin of
                      false happiness.

Trying to balance between    
       Reality, and self-inflating lies
While I dream of falling,
       And crashing to my demise.

Detached,
floating beyond the confines of existence.
I hear and
see and yet do not
feel.

No pain can touch me here,
no hand near enough to reach
beyond my cloudy veil.
Ecstacy,
Joy,
Sorrow,
Panic.
These states bubble across the
surface of river,
my fishbowl,
my cauldron.

I lie underneath,

The emotions slipping gently from my lips
to the surface,
a perfect finish to the puppet beyond
my reach.
High above, my head floats
whilst my *** sits cold on the bench
near the boats
Alone
yet everywhere
Who knows if I can yet
be guided home
Again.

When it fades, its like a candle that ceases
to exist and so the flame was never lit..

You cherished a moment that was as
threadbare as the good reflections of us.

I look into your being and I see through
you as my heart now sees nothing within.

I try to be distant.
Detatched.
Drink a 50 cent Mountain Dew.
Dressed all in black
on a blistering day.
My back is a waterfall.
Pop two more quarters in the machine.
The mass gathering makes this funeral home
feel more like a sweat lodge.

"It's cooler in the chapel"
but that's where the body is.

I enter the mock church house,
close my eyes in passing the casket,
and sit in the back,
where everyone obstructs my view
of...
it?
him?

Eulogy delivered.
Songs sung.
Get up and take your last look.
My pores become geysers.
He's too still.
Too quiet.
Too peaceful.
Three observations
in a third of a second.

I remember his voice,
the way his palm felt on mine,
shaking hands.
Shake the preachers hand.
Remember.
Pull away.

Pop two more quarters into the machine.
Wash my hands.
Twice.
Go out to the car
to try my best to calm down.

I want to blow myself to smithereens.*
There's a tightening in my chest that accompanies the shame I feel.
I can be a good girl
I can fake a nice girl
I can detach from my own skin.
Smile. Nod your head. Agree with everything being said.
And when it hurts to be a shell of a person
Remind yourself that you've hurt him worse.

I hate my body,
But that's nothing knew,
Because I've always hated my body.
I hate my rock solid bed cover,
But I've always hated the bed cover.
I hate that it's hard for me to make friends;
It's always being hard making friends...
I hate that I have acne,
While other girls are tan without acne.
I've had acne for a while now...
I hate my phone,
I hate my clothes,
I hate my face,
I hate the fact I have massive anxiety,
Every day...
I hate that I'm never happy,
That I can never just simply enjoy life,
Even though it is summer now...
I hate that I can't communicate well with my boyfriend,
After already being with each other for other nine months.
I hate my huge ****,
Always did...
I hate not having anything to do,
For the time being.
I hate that I can't open up to my boyfriend,
When he certainly can't open up to me.
I hate losing.
I hate always being angry,
Always having something to worry about.
I hate pushing myself,
Even though I know I have to.
I hate that I don't really have the connection,
I used to have with my boyfriend.
I hate that it sort of faded away after nine months.
I hate that my boyfriend doesn't understand my feelings,
Yet I can'topen up to him,
Because I feel he won't care,
And he has no time to listen.
I hate we don't have fun in our relationship,
As much as we used to.
I hate that there's very little spark he feels,
I could see it in his eyes...
I hate that I'm starting to feel detatched from him.
Maybe he deserves better,
Than me.
Maybe he's not right,
For me.
I hate that he has no clue,
Of how much I still love him.
I hate that I can't show him,
How much I still love him,
Because we're becoming too distant.
When will we have that talk,
Where I could fully open up to him?
I hate that he's too good of a guy for me,
Intelligence, handsome, funny, respectful, athletic, etc...
But am I doing this to myself?
Or does he not feel the same way,
I feel about him every day.
Did he install a video camera in my house,
Or on my body,
Where he watches my every move?
And doesn't like what he hears or sees?
I might be thinking way out of the box,
But there's something not right now...
I hate myself,
I hate myself,
I loathe myself...
People say it's not your fault,
Or not everything is your fault,
But through my problems,
It is all my fault.
And I'm always going to think that way.
Maybe I'll become depressed again,
Maybe even suicidal...
Again...
I hate that he only talks to me,
In a matter of need,
Not want...
I hate that I'm not interesting enough for him,
That I'm just a casual seventeen year old girl.
Maybe It's me,
Because I feel it is always me.
Maybe he actually wants to leave this relationship,
But doesn't know how to do so...
Maybe he's not telling me something..
Maybe there's another girl...
Maybe he's mad at me...
But I still feel no spark.
I can only love him now,
If he loves me.
And I've never stopped loving him since our relationship.
I hope he loves me back.
And doesn't just say he does.
Because he really is an amazing guy.
It tore my heart apart when we were apart for so long,
Throughout the school year.
Maybe this is the best I'll ever get...
He is offely quiet and reserved,
When I invite him to special occasions,
But maybe he's scared,
Or nervous,
Or scared of me,
Or scared of us,
Or has doubts of us...
Maybe I'm wrong about everything......
But I know what I'm right about,
Is that I cause myself too much pain inside,
To the point where I wish I could just,
Run far away and hide...

what can i even say?
he fell in love

The black sun coiled around you by morning,
Gingerly tending your wounded mind
You basked in the tall shadow of two lovers;
Waltzing along the line of indecisive love

Seven has always been your favorite number,
As we embarked to raise the tiger-eyed moon
That desolate soul wrapped in your inked bones
Couldn't silence the riptide that conquered like our kiss.

You were an addiction that took five months to sober,
Feathering every "I love you" with a pitiful look to me
I guess we just headed off to war in different directions
We were spilling blood in agony for each other.

There are regrets surfacing in your heart
I would know,
It's in my palm, right?

"I am unwelcome and detatched, it seems.*"

How do you describe the feeling?
It's not just an ache,
aches leave you feeling empty,
make you yearn.
It's when your body fills,
no not your body,
your heart.
& for a minute you feel calm,
you're a paradox,
you're at one with the world, the universe maybe, yet completely detatched from everything.
A spectator.
It would be as though you were looking down upon yourself,
this human,
this soul,
that you know every secret of, every detail about,
but you're unconnected.
Seperate.
Alone.
I feel this way when I look upon a view, watch the world in wonder.
Like when you see your reflection,
no matter how vague,
in glass,
looking up at you from water.
& you reach your finger out,
& you connect.
The way the lines blur between what is really you & your double.
They blur until they are no more.
Like the lines between realities.