I remember seeing
Her slip ever so slightly
And fall
over
I remember watching
As she sped towards
the ground
crunch
I remember hearing
The sound of her
broken bones
shattering
Which sounded
at the same time
As my heart.
I remember tripping
Down the stairs
In my haste
crying
I remember holding
Her broken body
In my arms
"Come back!"
I remember her
eyes locking on to mine
For just a moment
Before they faded away....
*And I may love another
But never like her

The school year draws to a close
And I find myself sad that it's over
Not because this was a good year
But because being around friends kept me sane

*I wonder what will happen, then...

Today, I remembered
What it was like to see your face
How you were cute when you were angry
Why I loved you...
But of course, it's too late.

I am fragile.
My empty, worthless soul, my very essence,
Could be shattered with a few simple words.

My twisted and cracked heart
Could be pulverized
With ONE simple word.

And my shakily reconstructed self-esteem
Doesn't even need words to be destroyed.
All it needs is one look in the mirror.

I try to smile
I really do,
But it's hard if you've lost a best friend (or two)

I try to be happy,
But can't you see?
It's hard if you've lost a best friend (or three)

I try not to cry,
And I've said this before,
But it's hard if you've lost a best friend (or four)

I try not to hate myself
But as you can derive,
It's hard if you've lost a best friend (or five)

I try to trust you,
But you can predict,
It's hard if you've lost a best friend (or six)

You notice how angry I am?
You FINALLY notice that what you did is wrong?
You're "gonna change?"
No you're not.
You're the same creeper, the same stalker.
I didn't mean to tell you anything. I didn't WANT to tell you.
Yet you made me your puppet so you'd keep it quiet.
I'd tell you to **** yourself but you do too much already.

Anger at myself, rising to the surface
This is all too familiar
The usual urge to hurt and fight
directed inwards.
I expressed this in a very bad way.
I ruin everything, I'm so dumb.
I've probably lost a friendship
due to my utterly pathetic weakness.
*Can I do anything right?

I remember a time when I looked at you and the chocolate brown black holes
of your eyes drew me in,
When I wished to dance among the stars in your brain, tracing constellations
from your neural pathways.
A time when the attraction of your beautifully imperfect face was more powerful than
the most powerful intermolecular forces,
and there was nothing I wanted more than to prove that it isn't ionic bonds that are the strongest, but love.
With you.

Now, there are no stars performing their fiery routine in the depths of your eyes,
no gravity to **** me in past the point of no return, as I used to be.
Nothing.
Empty space is all that remains of the intergalactic event that occurred in my mind.
What happened?


I remember the darkest corners of my universe being filled with temperatures and light in immeasurable quantities,
When I loved you.
When the wires in my brain were shot from the sheer energy of this force.


Now, having been reconstructed, no such forces pass.
My universe is once dark again. Speckled with lights of reason and logic.

As it should be.


I don't know what happened.


But, it's...



*.....finally......

What you don't know kills me,
And it's far too late to say.
My feelings are a stupid thing,
They've always been that way.

Holding back tears is always hard,
Especially in front of you.
Looking into your eyes I see stars,
But with you, I always do.

Today I had to say goodbye,
I've never been good at it.
No matter how hard I try,
I'll always cry a bit.

I shouldn't miss you as much as I do,
Even though my departure is nigh.
But if our friendship is good and true,
I needn't worry-why should I?

Goodbye
I'll miss you, friends.
Goodbye
I'll miss you, computers.
Goodbye
I'll miss you, Hello Poetry.
Goodbye*
I'll miss you all. Every last one of you.

Hello.
I am your enemy, your "victim."
The ice to your fire, the paper to your scissors,
the blue to your orange.

The point is, I hate you, in case you haven't noticed.
So leave me alone.

Seriously, I cannot take your harsh words anymore.
Go bully someone else.
...****.

There is one question that I ponder every second of every day...
*What is happiness, and how do I attain it?

I can't stop smiling
And it's just for today
But I'm happy
and I'd trade almost anything to stay that way.

Happy birthday...
I love you.
I miss you.
Why can't you stay?
Please come back...

In the heat of the moment
I never think things through
And, being myself,
I ALWAYS mess it up.

No matter how many times I plead for help, you always ignore me.

No matter how many times I beg you to stop, you keep hurting me.

And no matter how many times I vouch for you, you never care about me.

Her happy wasn't happy. She didn't have happy.
She had sadness.
Or she had nothingness.
and the nothingness was so much worse than the sadness.
Feeling nothing at all was worse than the most excruciating pain she had ever been through. It tortured her more than all those nights of crying herself to sleep. It ate at her more than all her tormentors' words. And it left more scars than all her cuts.
Her happy wasn't happy.
It was sadness,
because the alternative was  *nothingness.

I don't know what to do...


It's pain or suffering
No evil lesser than the other

Am I really that mean?
To deserve this torture?

Is this karma
And I'm that evil?

Or am I just unlucky
And uncared about?


What have I done...?

I can't get the muscles in my face to work that way...weird.

What will it take, for this old mind to break?
How much stress is too much?
Do I dare find out?

"Are you okay?" you ask.

Am I okay?

I'm in so much pain I'm going crazy...seeing things that I don't think are real...crying myself to sleep every night...

"I'm fine!" I say, smiling.

Oh, if only you knew how untrue that is...

When I see myself in a mirror
I want to carve knives into my body
When I hear my miserable voice
I want to rip out my vocal cords
And when I think about myself
I wish I was never born.

I love your smile that I work so hard to get
I love your eyes that tell me so much when your words tell me so little
I love your hair that flows like silk in the wind (how cliche of me),
And I love your laugh that's musical in tone.

Help me
I mean, I'm okay.
I want to die
I mean, I'm okay.
I can't take this anymore*
I mean, I'm okay.

How is it that everyone inside
Goes through the same things...
Yet we hide it because we think
That we are different?

*Impossible...

The only thing I have left that keeps me going
Is that nobody could be me more than I could
So now I wait
For the day
When that is no longer true
Because everything else is gone
Why would this one stay?

I play the middle party.
Why can't you two be FRIENDS!?
I don't want to be involved in this!
I can't tell who wrong and who's right
But even if I could
I can't say anything or I lose a friend...

Still falling
Breathless and on again
Inside today
Beside me today
Around, broken in two
Till your eyes shed
Into dust
Like two strangers
Turning into dust
Till my hand shook
With the way I fear

I could possibly be fading
Or have something more to gain
I could feel myself growing colder
I could feel myself under your fate
Under your fate

It was you
Breathless and tall
I could feel my eyes turning into dust
And two strangers
Turning into dust
Turning into dust

Tear tracks form, as they used to.
Blood seeps out, as it used to do.
This facade couldn't last.
His soul, my soul;
The charred, cracked, screaming remains of it:
Pleads for death.
It has been through Hell and back
My heart trudges on, a tired, weary activity
My lungs wheeze, struggling to perform the most basic tasks
*and why should it have to continue?

Nothing does.

It'll be okay
It'll be okay
It'll be okay*
That's what I tell myself.
Oh, what a liar I am....

.
.
.
It's lonely here.
The silence is deafening, really.
.
.
.
Can you hear the wind?
Or am I just imagining it?
.
.
...come back...
.
.
.
Is anyone there?
Can anyone hear me?
.
.
…

It's not about how much you've been through
"But you've been through so much more"
If you don't want to talk to me ONLY because of that
That is completely stupid.
I want to hear your story.
I want to help you
I'm not going to scoff
and go
"That's it?! You're weak!"
I'm going to listen.

**Everyone is deserving of help, it doesn't matter what they've been through or how bad it is.

No matter what you may say,
About it being fine,
it's really not okay,
And we clearly both know why.

I'm so sorry for it
One thing after another
Piled like our Italian dinner plates
Him, it, her, everything
And you deserve none of it.
You're one of the closest to perfect beings
I've ever had the pleasure of meeting
I wish I could be there for you
But I just end up being annoying and unhelpful,
And, I might also mention,
Nervous around beautiful people.

I expected
That once I was happy
The horrors wouldn't come back.
But, of course, I was wrong.
Like always.

I always thought it would be funny
If for a day I stopped hiding my scars
I could pretend to be the Joker
and say, "You wanna know how I got these scars?"
And when people look upset I could say "Why so serious?"

Don't judge a book by its cover.
Almost everyone I know
Has a smile on their face
But deep down
They're sad.
Even if they've tricked themselves into thinking otherwise.

There was a purpose to it all. To the man who just missed his taxi in New York, to the young child hopping between rocks deep in a forest, on a bubbling stream. Just as the city pulsed with life, seeping through cracks in the pavement repaired just last week, in the wheels of the taxi driving away and in the man's curse under his breath...
Just as the city pulsed with life, billions of trillions of ideas and thoughts and galaxies in heads thinking about their coworker one cubicle over who mentioned offhandedly to their friend about not having plans this Thursday evening, about whether their mother had remembered to take their medication this morning because she always was forgetting and did she realize how much easier it would be to hire a servant for these things...
Just as the city pulsed with life, as did the forest, a snake slithering between the dancing shadows from the shaking leaves, the child unaware of this impending surprise until the moment of impact, yielding a sharp report and a mad dash for an exit...
So did the forest, birds swooping between branches swaying ever so slightly from the gust caused by the boy's speed, one train of thought, one heartbeat racing to catch up with its feet...
So did the forest, with billions of trillions of thoughts and ideas in heads wondering about whether the snake had bitten him or not, about whether their grandmother had remembered to take her medication this morning because she was oh so forgetful and Daddy did always say they needed a maid since he was always busy and Mommy left...
So did the forest.
Feet flew, wheels sped.
A puppy, patiently waiting by the window, tennis ball in mouth, for her buddies to come home. Her older dog companion had fallen asleep in the wait.
And in these moments, of waiting, all with one destination...they were already together in their minds.

It won't get any better.
It will only get worse.

Why?

Life is a Machine for Pigs
The best of us are
Slaughtered
Sliced
Cooked,
And served
To the worst of us
who are simply ignored
by the torturous
Machine
for Pigs

The best of us
upon The Arrival
of the Machine
Slowly begin
a Dark Descent
A spiral into
Neverending Nightmares
But nobody
is there
To hear
our Cry of Fear.
The worst of us
Are not deemed
fit for the Machine.

and so,
the best of us,
The Lost Souls,
The Last of Us,
are still subjected
To the Machine's
Mental
Ominous
Evil
Lasting
Purgatory
that is the Machine
for Pigs.

Lonely

Alone

I miss school

I miss my friends

I miss everything

I'm so tired...of it all.

Of life.

It's been 2 days and already I would do many things to be back in school.

*This will be a long summer

He was on the edge of the world, his world.
Pondering what awaited him...
A single lone tear rolled down his face
He trembled for a moment
Then quietly, he began to write.
In his neatest handwriting, because nobody could read it otherwise
When he was finished, he sealed up the envelope, put it on the table,
and looked in a mirror, at the thing he hated the very most staring back at him
he stared into his own eyes, seeing through them into his own bleeding, screaming soul
Into his cracked, shriveled, and blackened heart
And into his own lost self, that had cried out for help so many times
But when he had help, he lied and lied, but couldn't say why
He had made so many mistakes, he wanted to correct them.
But he was about to make the biggest mistake of them all.
He silently left the house he had called home for 13 years.
The boy decided to walk slowly; for it would be the last time he would do so.

He heard the whispers of the night
through the hearing aids he had been teased far too many times about,
And saw the stars twinkle in the sky
through the eyes that had watered up more times than he could count,
and he breathed the cool summer air
through the mouth that had released sobs, shaky breaths, and cries,
And more tear tracks replaced the first.
He finished his walk, and found a place nobody would find him at
He smiled, a twisted, cracked, and broken smile
And left this world forever.

Little did he know
That when his parents woke up
And saw the envelope on the table
They read it, and tears poured down their face
And his little innocent sister would ask her parents
"Mommy, Daddy, why are you crying?"
"Where's my brother?"
And her parents would try to answer her,
but only more cries would come out.
And everyone, even his bullies,
Would be shocked that one so happy
Could've done such a thing.
And then they would blame themselves.
His friends would become more and more depressed
Some of them taking their own lives too
What he thought would fix his mistakes
Would be the biggest mistake of them all.

Alone in mind, not in presence,
The boy cannot do this.
He has gone on for as long as he could, but the knife isn't enough anymore. No amount of physical pain can distract him from his bleeding heart and howling soul.
He types an email instead of writing it, because his hands shake too hard.
He writes a different one for each person and hits send. Nobody will know until it's too late: the clock reads 3:16 AM, and he's hundreds of miles away. He does handwrite one thing, however: he leaves it on the counter in an envelope, the front of which reads "Mom".

He exits his bedroom, and takes a last look at his surroundings, kisses his sleeping 6 year old sister on the head one last time, and walks to the balcony.
He remembers, two years ago, when she fell.
Fitting, yet ironic, he thinks. that he would leave the same way. He looks at the stars, whispers "Goodbye," and leaps. The cool night air rushes around him momentarily, then-nothing.
.
..
"Hello?" he calls into the nothingness. No answer.
He calls again, with the same result.
Slowly, the painful reality of his situation dawns on him, with horrifying clarity:
This is the afterlife, and it is worse than the real world was.
But it's too late. He can't take it back, and he is doomed to eternal  loneliness and complete nothingness.
*Forever.

In my head
Creativity runs undeterred
Fireworks of words explode
Entire universes collide
But this is all in my head.
Because to get
From the brain
to the hand
to the pen
to the paper
Some things are missed.
Because poetry is a game of telephone
And things are lost in translation.

I love you,
not only for who you are,
but for who I am when I am with you.

Lower
Lower
Lower
It never stops
It never ceases
It always keeps pulling you down
There is no escape
No break, however brief
Admirably persistent
In its desire to take
All that you know and love
And turn it into all you knew and *loved.