Deep fog sets over the craggy mountain.
I watch from Anacapri.
The smell of lemon fills the surrounding
And alas,
I am at peace.

When I die,
I don't want anyone to cry for me
I want you to ululate with joy
And sing loudly, that song that I love
I want you to dance around my grave
To the African rhythm
I want your hips to sway to the beat of life
And remember all the joy I had in mine
I wish for you to share stories
Of my triumphs, my sorrow and my peace
To recall the time I laughed with you
And the time I clutched my ribs,
And laughed at you
And those moments I allowed myself
To cry in your arms
Most of all, remember my eyes
That lit up when I smiled
That expression that constantly gave me away
When I had something to say
Remember that skin to skin embrace we had
As we sat watching the fire die
And my stumbled walk when I said goodbye
When I die,
I don't want anyone to cry for me
I want you to weep for me.

Death to me is a scary but
normal thought in my head.
I feel unreal when someone
mentions that I will not be
alive in a billion years when
so many things could be
happening.

Death is unreal to me.
When someone I know dies it
differs in my brain as to
how I react.
Sometimes I will do nothing for
days on end and I'll just sit
in my sadness and tell myself
that the world has ended.
Other times I go on like
nothing is wrong.

My panic attacks usually
set in when I think things are
getting good again.
I feel lost and unreal
and I start to panic
in many, many ways.

Is that music is my head or
actual music playing?
Is someone talking?
Where? Aren't I alone?
My vision is blurry
my heart is racing
my mind is going
i   n   s    a    n     e.

Sometimes it is a bit worse.
I start attacking my heart.
The things I love= gone.
None of it matter.
She never loved you
What do you mean?
Your family hates you
Why would they?
You aren't pretty
But I was told several times today that I was.

Life feels unreal
and so does
everything
else.

"They only burn themselves to reach Paradise"
                                       - Mne. Nhu

original courage is good,
motivation be ******,
and if you say they are trained
to feel no pain,
are they
guarenteed this?
is it still not possible
to die for somebody else?

you sophisticates
who lay back and
make statements of explanation,
I have seen the red rose burning
and this means more.

Once you told me “I’m going to write you a poem”
I took your jawline in my fingers and held your eyes in mine and said
“Don’t ever”

only it came out a little strangled and raspy
like the voice cracking on a freckle faced pubescent boy

You didn’t heed my warning
and a week and a half later I got three pages of
star signs and
rose petals and
wishing wells and
my eyes compared to 24 other things

And three months later you started to look like
a wilting ivy
a dehydrated leaf
a floating corpse

and I still blame it on poetry
and the way it eats at your soul
and rips its way through the lines in your palms

it nails words into the gaps in your spine
and wraps itself so tightly inside you it contracts your muscles
until it controls you

until the letters desperately written are more like *****
just something forced out of you to let go of a little sickness

I could say
“I told you so”
if I was still 9 years old
and didn’t know how it felt to let a pen and 26 letters control you

I could say I told you so

but instead I am just buying my third cup of black coffee
and trying to find another pen