When I am done with my poem today
You might see it.
Well, if you're reading this
then you did see it.

I'm sorry.
As the fingers strike the keys
my mind is sodden.
Vacancies available, as they say.

Anyway, cast your thoughts
to those who will not see this.
Either occasional lookers
or Hello Poetry zealots
may let these pixelated words slip by.
They won't be affected.

But you are.
Now, I'm not expecting to change your life
but maybe I've got you thinking
at this moment,
when already in the past I've finished this
and sat back silently,
wishing the dull pain
of the past's barbs in my mind
away.

You are potentially similar.
Or maybe you already switched away.
****.
I forgot again.

I got up to talk to my dad.
I took out the garbage.
Did you stop, leave in the middle of this poem?
It's okay because me too.

You have read this poem,
maybe considered it.
I am almost done.

I'm not sure how this is going to end.

I guess I'll just put out my poem now
for people to find and to not find.
But remember
that the small stuff
from insignificant sources
feels for you.

My Heart was Open
My Eyes were Closed

Your Heart stayed Closed
Your Eyes stayed Open

I didn't get to choose to fall for you.
I just did.
And I accept all the consequences.
I'm sorry I'm weak.
That I couldn't be there for you.
That I'm an inconsiderate girlfriend.

I'm sorry.

It's true that I can be hard to accept
I'm honestly odd and socially inept
I live in my head and I just disconnect
I'm falling to bits and there's so little left

I spend most of my days simply drifting along dreams
Drinking til I'm numb and I've silenced all the screams
I drink until I'm nothing, then I smoke til I'm unseen
And when I am not wasted I really hate everything

**** living a long life. I'd rather just live hard
I play the hand I'm dealt, and I'm using every card
I'm living fast and dumb and always letting down my guard
But I'd rather just be numb than have to feel weak and scarred

Yes, my mom abused me and she told me I was ****
And yeah, her boyfriend ***** me and he filled me with his ***
And after that I was homeless, for six months I was a ***
There's so much in a short time that I've had to overcome

At this point, it's just easier to drink my days away
And sometimes I'm able to write, even when to my dismay
I never rest because my mind always wants to create
And as I try to live out life, I slowly dissipate

all poetry does is create an aesthetic with words
all I can do is sit inside my room while lightning flakes
across the sky with fireflies and dragons of rain, gallons and gallons
drifting down in not-quite-a-race over my lukewarm roof
white faces sit together in black chairs while black faces dot the walls
I am warm now, when I used to be cold- but I don't know
if I can feel anymore, I'm rubbing my toes but they're numb
I don't know if anything is broken. Is anything broken?

My soul is different then yours.
Mine is old, yours is young
Yours is light, mine is dark
Mine is a cage, yours is a latch
Yours is fire, mine is ice
Mine is a lightning flash, yours is a moonbeam
Yours is the Sun, mine is pluto
Mine is scars, yours is music
Yours is pages on a book, mine is a poker game
Mine is my own, your is not