what do i write?

i can write all i want, but

the thoughts won’t come out.

what do i play?

i have all the keys but

nothing figured out.

what do i draw?

i have all the pencils but

i don’t have the inspiration.


how do i feel?

i have all the thoughts but




no way to tell you.

what do i do when

the skin on my chest isn’t
real enough to be
opened?


what do i do when
the buttons of my blouse
don’t fasten so
you can’t pull them apart?


what do i do when
the heart inside my body isn’t
really beating at all and
everything is rotting away and dead?



what do i do when




there really isn’t anything wrong with my head?

babe,
i lied.
sometimes i wish that i
just died.

darling,
help me cry because
my usefulness is a lie.

baby,
get down because
i sure ain’t feeling up.

honey,
come closer, please—
can’t you see that i’m
falling apart at the seams?

my love, my life,


come near and don’t leave because






i am truly in need.

hey baby,
don’t get yourself down.
it’s okay because
nothing was wrong with me today.

hey darling,
i’m alright!
nothing ever happened to me
last night!

hey honey,
don’t get yourself down ‘cause
nothing ever went down with me.





i’m sorry,
babe it’s nothing,
really.

you’re so close—
i can feel you under my skin.


you’re permeating my bones,
my ever sweet rose.


you’re so close—
i love how i can grab you so easily,
and put you in an exotic comatose.


i love your scent—
your fresh scent of regret.


you’re so close—
if i could just have one more turn...


you lay on the floor,
appetizing and deluxe.


i just want
one bite.


you’re so close—
so close that i could just crumple you up,
my ever sweet rose.


you’re fine-tuned to a
fatal perfection,
my dying rose.


let my water sink into your pores and
permeate your cells.


i shall bring you back to life.


you’re so close—
so close i could just touch you and
rip your heart out,
my lifeless rose.


oh, rose,
don’t go.


you’re so far—
after all,
you’re dead.
a jumbled bouquet




hanging out of my arm.

i’m scared that




love can just



wash out like a stain




freshly imprinted

in the delicate fabric










of time.

tell me,



what is love?


is it just



empty words and


lost promises?




is it something they say to keep




their girls under control and





to keep them from




leaving?




is it something they say to get their




fill of *** or





is it something with meaning?






i would never show you this because






you’d probably break up with me.

darling,

i



finally feel comfortable with my naked body...








i truly would like you to see.

i’m doing good!
you know, maybe there’s more to this than sadness.
maybe i’ll get through this.

i’ll dig myself out of this grave with my bare, ****** hands.

i’ll grab fistfuls of dirt and shove my way to the top.

i’ll pull out the weeds and i’ll scream and scream,

and if no one hears me out, i’ll still find a way.


and once i get to the top,


there’ll be people up there



waiting for me.

It pushes everyone away.
It ruins all my relationships.

I died at the hands of my thoughts today.

He tells me that he loves me,
He tells me that it’s okay,
But they won’t let me believe it.

is love real?
is happiness real?
is anything real?
because at this rate, it might all just be fake.


in fact,

that’d be better, because then i wouldn’t have to feel this pain.

i hate
everything
i hate
social media
i hate
myself
i hate
my body
i hate
this world
i hate
this pain
it will not end
no matter how much i try
it always comes back
to make me cry.

chills.
shaking.
sweating.
insecure.
normal.
can’t stop thinking.
obsessive.
disorder.
compulsive.
no real problems.
doesn’t care
even though he says he does.
bite back tears.
smile but you can’t.
meaningless noise.
it’s all in your head.
want acceptance.
can’t get it.
all in your head.
can’t face monsters under your bed.
past wounds opening up.
bleed.
don’t like how they look at him.
don’t wanna sleep.
feel imperfect.
wish i was perfect.
small things get to me.
wish i had her body.
wonder if he’d like me more if—





what if—






what could—





why is—






how does—




they don’t—




does he—





i wonder—





not alone.
have someone.
not enough.
greedy *****.
hold internal grudges.
mind can’t get enough.
it feeds of corpses of past feelings.



swallows you up.
try not to cry.
smile and laugh.
talk and eat.





try to swallow it up,
but it eats you alive.
a parasite
destroying you from inside.
if you can acknowledge it’s root,
you will someday understand—



the key to happiness—



it’s right in your hand.







“but









why do i keep losing it, mother?”






“sometimes, you need to get the fog out of your mind.”




“how do i get the fog away?”





“face your problems,



even if it’s to your dismay.”





“but mother, i know this. it seems really easy. could you please stop with these riddles,
and help me find that key?”





“but honey all i’ve got to say is,






some kids have lost the key,




but try to find it on their own.





you are a weakling, as they say.




















stop crying about how hard it is
to live your easy day.”

why do you push everyone away?
why do you hurt everyone?
why do you hurt me?
why do you care so much about what they think?





why can’t i break free?

—————————————————
~an introduction for ignorant newborns~


we live in a society built on lies...
when the hell will we get up and open our eyes?

sitting in the back seat watching time go by...
powerless to the person at the wheel...

when we unplug our monitors,
we unplug our minds.


take your pills,
now go back to sleep...


put on your headphones,
mindless to this rotting world
that perpetually dies.

turn the volume up,
and every time the volume increases,
your ignorance follows suit.

blind yourself in the limelight of cameras,
oh, beloved celebrity.

cover your feelings with makeup, and cleanse yourself of anxiety with your...

medicine.


talk about how “OCD” you are,
as you drive past the mental ward.








—————————————————
~interlude~


mr. president stands before a thousand cameras—

lights flashing,
questions asking.

what will he say?
what will he decide?
or,
will he lie?

he turns his head to one camera.
he smiles and says it’ll be alright.

he turns his head to another.
he frowns and talks about how there should be no more ******.

he looks to a camera in front of him and says,
“we are a free people...”




and i wonder



which broadcast tells the truth?



—————————————————
~ode to the top 1%~

on the top floor,

watch through the eye of god,
as the filthy ants scramble below you.

look through your glass window,
as the man on the other side cleans it.

frown upon him as if he is an insect,
instead of a man.

shuffle your papers,
as you shuffle the choices of who lives and who dies.  

posh parties,
and lively celebrations—

as well as child deaths,
and gun violence.

the TV isn’t working—
maybe you can see the agony on their faces through the static.

scoff and walk away—


thirty more people died at the expense of the NRA today.


turn off the light


that those children never had.



—————————————————
~an untimely end to this never ending struggle (conclusion)~



how will it all end for humanity?


will it end by war
or by famine
or by mass-******?


or will it end depending on the mind?



tell yourself it’s fine
with ***** and alcohol.



or tell yourself it’s not because of lack thereof.



but those aren’t the only paths.






you decide your end.




will you get up and make a change before you die?




or will you sit down and close your eyes?



will you help the woman who’s fallen,



or will you act like it didn’t happen?




so many paths one can take.





let us all try our hand





at this sick,
sick


game.







—————————————————
a special thanks to:
hatred,
hope,
dread,
life,
death,
change,
good,
bad,



oh,



and society for being such a pain in the ***.

i remember something strange from last night.

red
soaked into my skin and
flowed through me.

the sound of rouge
was the only thing my ears could hear.

the taste of aka
filled my mouth.

rojo
was the only image that my eyes perceived.

the loving touch of laal
caressed my skin.

but then,
i remember the beautiful image of rouge
twisting
turning
and morphing
into something otherworldly.

suddenly,
the horrid smell of rojo
pervaded my senses and
took hold of my sinuses.

the brutality of laal
scraped deep lines into my skin.

the hot aka
leaked out from the lines,
and
flooded the floor.

and soon
my eyes were blinded by
the curtain of red.


and when i woke up,

i was laying in a pool of rouge.



now, i look back and
try to recall
if it was just a twisted dream
that one sees
before their last scream.

when i am in your presence
i already begin to miss you.

when you walk out of the door,
i feel as if a part of me is being pulled away.

once you have left,
i see the ghost of your shadow,
feel your once-lived touch,
and i am also enveloped in the warmth that once was.

every place in my house reminds me of you—
the ledge where we once sat, and
the bed where we once kissed.

everything i see
keeps reminding me.

i play it off as you leave,
but once you are gone,
the feeling pulls at my feet—
pulling me into the shadows.




but the thought of you lifts me up.

but the sound of your voice makes me feel hope once more.

but seeing your face makes my heart ache.

but seeing your texts makes me miss you more than ever.


but that doesn’t matter.


because my appreciation for you always remains.


because remembering when we first held hands reminds me that there is so much more to come.


because every time i’m with you reminds me of the first time.






because no matter how long i have to wait ‘till i see you,



no matter how far i have to walk,



no matter how much land i have to traverse,



no matter how much i have to endure,







i will always think of you.
i will always miss you.
i will always hope to see you—
even if it is impossible.



but most importantly,










i will always love you.

[play message?]
>yes

“hi! i’m just calling to let you know what’s been going on lately...guess i’ll start now, since you’re not picking up...hehe...


it so stupid sometimes—
texting certain ways and saying certain things,
as if it will let them know that you’re not okay.

it so pointless,
because they don’t notice when you cry out.

they don’t notice because they aren’t you.

it’s stupid to wish they were you.

it’s stupid to think they’ll know.

it’s stupid to let yourself feel this much.

it’s a luxury to feel those little mental bruises.

it’s disgusting.

you’re disgusting.”



[end of message]
[play again?]
>no
[delete?]
>

Your light
Burns through me.

And a sudden throbbing fills me
When you look at me.

Your light,
Almost penetrating me,
Bores holes into my body that lays here without use.

My body broken,
Healing is too late to the
Appointment—

Too late to make a change in my worsening condition.

However, my soul has not been lost.

Make it shine one more time.


And before me you stand,
As if answering my unspoken command.

Carefully,
You guide your thick shell off your body.

Slowly,
You reveal yourself to me.

Light shines in through the window,
Slowly penetrating my pores.

But when I behold you,
I am entombed in a comforting darkness.

You lunge toward me,
Forcing your fragile body forward lustfully.

I cannot resist,
For your darkness calms me—
Entrances me.


And then you shed your final skin.

The true you has emerged,
Thrusting your naked spirit upon my body,
(Filthy with sorrow.)

I behold,
The ****** Innocence coming upon me.

I have lost my chastity to sons of the “evil being”.

No more innocence,
I am the ***** *******.

But this experience brings upon me
A different feeling,
Like that of deeply sleeping.

I draw myself closer,
Where your lips whisper.

I do not need to know what they say,
For I already know the words.

Our fingers intertwining,
Our spirits violently colliding,
I lose myself in the detail of your spirit.

No pain is felt when you are near,
For you are the one I hold dear.

You have lost your sense of indulgent chastity to the likes of me,
A worthless piece of filth with renewed purpose.

Linen and lace
Cover my face,
But they are burning.

We set fire to the peaceful smile,
The quiet enjoyment.

We ignited the fuse,
That we didn’t notice
When it called our names

Here,
With you,
I do not seek truth,
nor forgiveness.

I do not seek my lost chastity or body.
I simply seek you.

Our souls marred from the fire,
We do not care what we look like.

For as the linen burns,
As the fuse ignites,
As the trees stir in the wind,
As electricity is generated up in the clouds above,

We simply dance together,

Rhythmic and beautiful,


Even under all these lies.

I wish...
I wish I could appreciate myself the way you do.

There are things
That I could maybe consider
That would make me believe
That I am the slightest bit interesting,
Or different.

But I feel like those things don’t compare,
When I cannot be competent enough to succeed in everything else.

I still fail to see
What you hold so dearly in me.

When I look to myself,
I do not feel like I am to be mixed up in the crowd,
Or to be like everyone else.

I see myself as standing out in that crowd.
But not to perform or exude confidence,
But rather to overtake the dazzling show someone else is putting on
Just by being themselves.

I jump in front of this amazing person,
Unable to control my actions.
I humiliate myself,
With every eye turned on me.

Maybe
I’m not jumping in front of this person.
Maybe
I’m just being myself.
But being myself is exactly what I hate.

I am once again the Reaper of Happiness.
Not from myself,
But from others.

I am not unfortunate enough to have nothing.
In fact, I have everything.
I have someone who loves me
And who I love back.
I have people who love me,
Even though I don’t say it back.
I have friends who care about me,
And always have my back.
And I have parents
Who feel the joy of raising me.

I have everything


Except myself.

I have stepped out of my eyes

And I’ve seen what it’s like to be an observer.

It is a strange feeling of weightlessness that only occurs when I’m tired.

And it is then,
Then when I realize,
That I am able to live from afar,
Live off calculations.

Smile when she smiles,
Laugh when he laughs.

I am the shrewd observer of myself,
Watching my every move.

I am the eye searching through my window,
Unable to see the full picture of me
Through the thin slits in the blinds.

I am the reflection in my mirror,
Looking away when I remove my clothes.

I am the persona I see of myself online,
Taking ten pictures
Until it looks just right.

Sometimes,
I am the fake facade
That actually likes what she sees.

I am the fake facade,
Who’s smile comes and leaves.

I will never be able to see
What you hold so dearly in me.

Appreciation I give myself comes in small fragments
Like light shining in through a glass pane on a ceiling.

So close, and so intimate
That I can feel the rays warming my skin,
Feel their energy.

But so far,
when I try to reach for the glass pane
In hope
It is far out of reach.
But from my perspective,
It is something so easy to achieve.
And thus,
Happiness becomes something I must  conceive.

I will never reach the point
In which I understand
why you want our hands to be joined.

I am below you,
And you are above me.
A twisted hierarchy
That I will never be unable to see.

So therefore you’d be better off




If you don’t pour all of your valuable self

Into me.

i walk through this desolate place of
death,
remorse,
ruined love,
and regret.

i eye the gravestones—
the words etched into the marble.

i eye the faceless words
staring back at me.

i look at the flowers—
empty promises of remembrance and once-lived love.

i look at the flowers—
some wilted and dying.

the huge trees overshadowing me,
i feel lost in this cemetery.

i look to the stones in the area for people who have been cremated—
reminders of love, life, and existence burned into a million ashes.

i feel the presence of all the death.
i feel it sinking into me.




i wonder when i’ll join them?

I am in a room filled with light.
With no more life,
I have my fair share of strife.

The light blinds me,
And I feel all the terrible eyes upon me.

I am naked and vulnerable,
Sitting without defense;
A crumpled *** of paper
Is the shape of my stance.

A tear streaking my face,
I have not gotten the chance to find my place.

But then you come out of the light,
Your black cloak being the only thing I can see.

You kneel down next to me,
And your eyes find where I bleed.

And before I know it,
Your cloak engulfs me,
Your arms steeling me,
Just when I think I might fall into an eternal sleep.

You bandage the wound
That I was unable to see.

And you carry me,
All the way through the deep sea,
Which now seems so shallow to me.

With nothing to fear
When you are near,
I fall into a deep sleep.

And when I wake,



You are right next to me.

you say that loving the same *** is worth hating.
you say that these people
for their unchosen sin should be paying,
but deep down, you’re the same.
you wake up every morning
hating the same day.

you say that another skin color is what they should be wearing,
but really, you are also truly despairing.

you tell them to be this,
and be that.
you tell them that they’re too skinny,
or too fat.

you tell them how to be and who to be—i wish you could see through your hypocrisy.


because all colors of the rainbow are pretty.

because every size is alright.

because these people try with all their might.

because being different shouldn’t be met with fright.


let us all dance together





and fade into this beautiful night.

when i am with you, all i feel is safe.

i love it when you hold me, please, do it once more.

i love it when you kiss me—is this the way love tastes?

i love it when you look at me, because your soft gaze seems to encapsulate me.

when you say goodnight, my heart melts.

when i see your face, i finally feel as if i’ve found my place.




life sure as hell ain’t easy,




but it’s a lot better when you’re with me.

I said it was okay.
I said it was just another stupid delay.

I didn’t tell you


How much I cried that day.

I know you did a lot of horrible things to me.

I know and can feel
How bad you hurt me.

I don’t like what you did to me,

Or the things you said,



But I am willing to forgive.



I still have the scars from your belt on my back,


and I still remember the stifling feeling of your hands around my neck,




But I also remember your remorse—


The sadness in your eyes as you’d hold my broken body in your arms and tell me how much you loved me.




I remember laying there,
Tears streaking my face,
With all my limbs broken.


You could have a temper.



But you could also be the most loving thing I ever knew.


You’d yell and scream and shout and rant,



You’d break me.



But,

I am willing to forgive.



I hope that you’ll look at this note.



Look at it as if it was written in my own blood—
The blood you spilled.


And I want you to feel my agony.

Feel my pain.

Understand my blight.


And then I want you to tell yourself that it’s okay.



Because I hope you’ll see this.


I hope you won’t be angry any more.


Because I know,

In truth,



We both want to forgive.


Forget the whippings.

Forget the bruises.


But remember the pain.


Remember the tears.


And remember your remorse.



And forgive.


Forgive yourself.



Forgive me.


Forgive me for hating you.



And I promise, if you do, I will do the same.



I hope that you can understand.





I hope we can forgive each other.



I hope we can reconnect the bonds of our love,

And put the pain in an old shoebox.


I just want to be with the real you.


Even if it’s just for one more time.





Thank you.

Clouds are on the horizon,
Forming a gray crown
On this soggy day.

It looks like rain.

The mountains off in the distance—
They glow with a bright light.
A light that fills me with unease.

And as slow as a millisecond without you,
The clouds are above me,
Their masked faces scheming above my head.

There is that silent moment—
That moment when all falls still.
The wind slows,
(So slow, but abrupt in secret)
The light dims,
(The absence of light makes you feel tired, but it does so by slipping it slowly under your pillow in the deepest hours of the night)
And all is eerie, but peaceful.

Then I am caught by surprise
As little droplets of rain fall to the Earth.

And then, I accept peacefully—
The rising intensity in what becomes a downpour.

The downpour mixes with my emotions,
Which flood out in the form of tears.

Good thing it’s raining, huh?

Good thing no one can tell that I continue to cry.

But the tears come out with a desolate smile.

And through the mist I swear I see

Someone else who exists

Other than me.


It’s beginning to look like a storm.

The storm is grueling at first—
Traversing the mountains isn’t so easy.

But then, as I reach the peak I see

Someone else who exists

Other than me.

The rain continues,
Covering me.
But it’s okay.

For you are there at the end of the day.

But just like the boats
In a stormy sea that sway,
It is hard to understand these feelings
Everyday.

sitting here
as the world comes to an end,
i think i’m still



pondering why



my text was left on read.

I remember the days when you were a little child going off to kindergarten.

I remember the days when you’d trip on the sidewalk and your shoe would fall off.

You cried and whined and sometimes I got tired.

I remember getting upset with you, and putting you in time out.

I remember breast-feeding you and making sure you didn’t cry.

I remember yelling at you because you almost started a fire.

I also remember rocking you gently in my arms and singing softly into your ear.



When you were three, you ate chocolate pudding and slathered it all over your face.


When you were eleven, you yelled at me and told me you hated me.


When you were fifteen, you had your first boyfriend, and I cried.




When you were a baby, I remember the softness of your little hands in mine, and your delicate eyelashes as you rested.


When you were five, I remember you making me a drawing for Mother’s Day and writing, “You are the best Mommy in the world,” on it.


When you were thirteen, I remember you laughing and making jokes with me.


When you were sixteen, I remember you getting your driver’s license and taking me out to eat.


When you were seventeen, I remember talking and laughing and crying and having a deep conversation with you.



And now you’re all grown up.


You’re an adult in the eyes of society.



But in my eyes, you’re still my sweet little baby.


You want to rebel and dye your hair.


And that’s fine.


You want to spray paint the wall of your room and blast music all night.


And that’s fine.


You also want to move out.


Through all those tough times,
Through all that hardship,
Through all the times you said, “I hate you!”
And all the crying,


We still love each other.


I still love you.


And I know you have a car and a boyfriend and are going after your passion.


That’s great.


I know it’s great.


But why don’t I feel great?


I feel so selfish right now—it’s something so big for you—such a big step in your life.



But I hate it.


You’ll be moving out.


You’ll be with him.


You’ll be together.


But you won’t be with me.



I want you to be with me.


I miss holding you in my arms on all those sleepless nights.


I miss your cute little voice as a toddler.


I miss your care-free attitude and ease of living.



I miss you,
But you’re not even gone.


It hurts to see you packing up all those boxes.

It hurts to see you say goodbye to your friends.


Why am I so selfish?


Why can’t I be happy for you?


Well, I am. But at the same time, I can’t get over it. I can’t.


You’re leaving.


You’re leaving—


And you’ll be without me.


I know you can take care of yourself,


But part of me still worries you’ll leave a light on for too long or



You’ll get too drunk or



You’ll do drugs or



You won’t keep up with your rent or




Why am I doubting you?



Or maybe I’m just doubting myself.


Maybe I’m doubting my ability to find a reason to live without you.


Maybe I’m doubting my ability to be happy for you.


Maybe I’m just



Doubting my existence.


I don’t want you to go.



I don’t want you to go.


I don’t want you to leave me.



I don’t want you to leave.



Please don’t leave.




Please.











Please.










Don’t leave me at this bottomless pit alone









With no one left to love.













◦

Life

I don’t need to think too much about living.

Wake up,
Same time,
And I’m going to school again.

Enter the classroom in a daze
Trying to meet your gaze.
But I don’t,
And now,
I can finally say that’s okay.

I live off of calculating what people want me to say.
Laugh when she laughs,
Smile when he smiles.

I make up answers on my school assignments—
I don’t care anymore.

I’m so tired—
Shut the door.

The endless morning comes again—
I don’t want it to drag by.

The weekend loses its impact—
It’s all too saddening anyway.

Because I have to be without you
For a longer day.

I bite back my tears in class.

No, it’s not some ******* hormones.

No, it’s not my ******* age.

I can’t laugh.

I can’t smile.

It hurts too much.

As I sit there,

a    l   o    n   e,

The recurring feeling of intense nausea sweeps over me—
Encapsulating my body,
And completely penetrating me.

Go through the motions—
Get cheered up by my friends.

But when I see you,
The feeling returns again.

I care for you.
I love you and hug you and—




that’s





what makes it




worse.

Go home,
Long day.

Ask how I’m doing,
And it’s the same thing I say.

Stay up till two in the morning—
Watching shows until they’re boring.

Get four hours of sleep,
Repeat the cycle again.

I try to change the cycle.

And sometimes, I do.


But it all just starts back up again.


I wish it was all something I could understand.

It all seems to be getting to my head.


God—


If this is what living feels like,











I’d rather be dead.

Here I lay,
Still in my bed.

Here I lay—
Can’t get up to eat my
Food for the day.

Here I lay,
Seeing it through till the end of the day.


And there I lay,
My eyelids closed
In troubled dismay.

And the more I sleep,
The less I eat,
And the less I dream.




Here I lay,
An empty sack of bones.


They bring me food—
Force it down my throat,
And nothing comes of it.



And they don’t realize that this bag of bones
Is slowly suffocating
And suffering


Under the comfort of the bedsheets.

i’m honestly scared to death of
falling for you but
maybe i’ll just


let it all play out.

you’ve always




disliked me






on a grave scale.

there’s a knock at your door.
care to answer it?
oh, you didn’t hear it, did you?
oh, that’s okay.

she’s saying hi,
don’t you hear it?
oh, you have headphones on?
that’s fine.

she’s giving you a gift—
do you want to open it?
you didn’t receive it?
ah, i see. that’s fine.


wait, you noticed this whole time?


you opened the door, but she just didn’t say anything?

she said hi, and you waved back, but she just walked away?

you opened the gift, but there were only tears in it?

oh, so you do care about her wellbeing?






oh, so it’s all in her head?

maybe i should just stop writing poems



about problems that i supposedly have.

I wish you were someone I could read—
I wish I could know if you really love me.


I wish your voice was something I could understand.

Your way of speaking seems so soft at times—
You have a rich baritone that encompasses so many mysteries.

I wish your eyes were something I could read.

The way you look at me is like no other—
But I’m too afraid to look back.

I wish your voice was something I could understand.


When you sing to me,
The notes and melodies interlace in a ribbony flow—
Almost like that of caramel.

When I lay my head on your chest,
I can feel the vibrations from your vocal cords as you speak.


I wish your voice was something I could see.


Disguised in flowing silk—
Your voice can feel like a ploy.

I wish my contempt


Was something you could see.

you’re gone




and i’m back to feeling



bad



        again.

I’m too scared to trust you.

Too scared to trust anyone.


Should I have broken up with you?

No, I love you.


Or maybe I’m just so desperate that the feeling is disguised as love.

(Let’s be desperate together)

I’m so tired


So sick and tired
Of feelings


That I feel nothing.



I wish you could understand
That my fatigue isn’t only physical.


I want to feel the joy of love
The ease of life.

I want to flow and not strain and crack when I dance.

I want to sing for thousands,
Maybe millions

And let them hear my heartfelt screams.

I want to wear whatever the hell I want,

Without being judged.




Can’t you see?

I want to be free.


Why can’t the world


Just let me be?

And I see it.

I see it now.


I was right
I was right
I was right
I was right.



All my love







Was a lie.

when i look you in the eyes


i

        j ust

wa.   nt to


di.    E.


not because i dont

l ov



          e you.


but becaus

e



         my lov

E

        
shared

with you


doesn’t seem



R                 E               A                  L.

cover me in the shade of a thousand roses…
make me shine
like that of a million crystals.
coat me
in the salvation of all hope ever felt.

drown me
in the light of distant suns.
entice me
like the mystery of the many moons in this universe.

ask me all the questions any curious child has ever asked,
and my answer to all of them
will be my love for you.

show me
the luminescence
of all the light on this earth.



a new dimension has
transcended all others that have existed previously,



since you fell in love with me.

And alas!
The horrid demon has fallen!
And who was the one to slay it?
None other than your own head!

Alas!
You have pulled yourself out of this nightmare and inserted yourself into a new one!
Only in this new nightmare, you cannot die.
Only cry.

While the concept of reality slowly fades into being questionable,
Your screams are the only thing you can hear.

Once everything fades into the background,
A few objects remain.

The shackles on your hands and feet,
And the cloth gag that is bound to your head with a chain—
Like a cursed child’s headband.

The gag seems to press further into your mouth each time you cry,
Slowly sinking down into your throat.

It softly brushes against the opening of your esophagus,
And your reflexes kick in.

You choke,
Your eyes bulging out in terror,
The veins on your face becoming a fiercer blue.
Your cheeks flush,
And a hot,
Miserable bead of sweat trickles down your forehead as you struggle.

Further,
Further.

You sink into eternal madness.

Then,
Someone walks into the nonexistent room.

They have a syringe—
The metal needle shining brightly,
Even though there’s no source of light.



And they walk closer.



And then the needle is a spoon,
And the man is your father.

It’s just your father
Feeding you medicine.

You just fainted.
You know the drill.

The dark room was just the bathroom light turned off.

Same old, same old.

The chains are your leggings at your feet,
Because you couldn’t change out of your clothes completely.

The gag
Was just a suppressed scream before you fainted.


This whole thing



Was just a dream.

There is something looming over my city—
The city of my mind.
Something way bigger than you or me or the world entirely.
Oh, how I tried to protect my desolate little town.
(Where my home is all around)

There are things I can’t show you, fair confidante.
There are things in my city that even I don’t want to see.
(Don’t check the graveyard, too bad I go there everyday)

The corpses of past love and remorse
Tend to like to
Take a little walk
Outside of their burial spot.

“Watch out for them,” I say.
But you don’t seem afraid
To traverse the uneven roads of my mind
Everyday.

Oh no, I’m afraid you’ve run into the criminals of innocence—
The killers of that childlike luminescence.

You fight them without being phased,
But can’t you see the festering wound?
If bubbles over like a steaming cauldron—
It swells like a soon-to-be mother’s belly.

Every time you slay a threatening man,
The wound is opened further.
Seething,
Teeming with bacteria,
The wound rots,
And when I notice it, it’s too late.

You have bored a **** into my desolate little community


Unknowingly.

An ugly mark
On my broken heart.

But it’s okay.

For it’s time to start another day.


and the state of my body

                                     is that of


             utter

                               d
                                       E

                                   C
                  a
     y

It is morning,
And the sun shines again.

It is morning,
And the crippled man rises from his wheelchair for the first time.
He falls, but that experience isn’t worth a dime.

It is morning,
And for the first time, the depressed girl sits up in her bed.
She lays back down again, her mind
(thoughtlessly)
open.

It is morning,
And the miserable lot of souls heading to work
Look up into the sky,
Even if it means burning their weary business eyes.


It is morning,
And the ill-fallen girl raises her hand to the sky.

Her hope is renewed



                    one

last
                                         time.

The look of distaste
Spreads across your face.

Yes, this is indeed
Deserved hate.

I just came in
And took your place.

Yes, indeed,
This is my designated fate.

We have nothing in common,
But we both know the same feeling.

We both know the feeling of loving someone more then ourselves.

Yes, indeed,
It is guilty I plead.

So crucify me,
Pin me to a wall,
And stab me—
I don’t care.

For all of it
Is deserved by me.

A thousand times over,



I am sorry

Thousands of miles away
Is the one who thinks of you everyday.

Day after day,
I am the one that causes her dismay.

“Goodnight, I love you.”
Is the thing I always say
But I don’t fall asleep,
Nor do I dream.

But I lay there
Lucky to love you
Without a care.

And what’s stopping you
From loving her
When she comes back?

When she dresses up nice and looks you in the eyes and says
“Can you be mine?”

What’s stopping you
From loving her
The way you did before?




What’s stopping you from leaving me

                       when she smiles beautifully?

The glistening tile—
The shiny mirror.

The clear shower curtain—
The silver faucets.

The box of tissues—
The marble counter.

The bright lights—
The green rug.

The green rug
That my knees collapse onto.

The silver faucet
That releases the water
I splash my face with.

The box of tissues—
My only reliable friend.

The marble counter
That I slam my fists on top of.

The door that I lock—
The handle that remains unturned.


Please leave me here


In my place of eternal concern.

Together
We stand,
Hand in hand,
Ready for the bad things to come our way.

Together we lay,
To end the day,
And for our affection there will be no delay.

And tomorrow we will wake,
And our backs will ache.
But since we are together,
It will go down smoothly,
Like a velvety and smooth bite of cake.

And through the streets we walk,
Making small talk,
And stopping to write our names on the wall
In a colorful chalk.

We dye our souls,
With the flame of a thousand coals.
We walk the streets,
Me looking at you,
And you looking at me.

I think of the pure indulgence,
The joy of mirth,
The feeling of freedom.

I think of how I saw it in her eyes,
In her expression.

All of these things came together and formed what we call a smile.

I think of the dimples in her cheeks,
The soft skin I loved to kiss.

I think of her full lips,
And the hair she had that was never stiff.

I think of how
When she enjoyed chocolate,
There would always be some left
On the corners of that beautiful smile.

I reminisce
Upon the beautiful times we spent together.

The feeling of her fingers intertwined in mine,
Her tired head being rested on my shoulder,
And a smile—
A rare smile.

This smile was like no other.
It was not the one she gave to people when they complimented her,
Or the smile she gave when she received a gift.

This smile
Was the smile she wore
When she was with me.

A special smile,
One only for me.

Oh, how I miss her lips,
And her quick, determined smile—
It was slightly crooked, but that made it all the more beautiful.

Oh, how I miss her confidence,
The perfect posture and easiness.

Oh, how I miss her hair,
Because even when thrown up without a care,
It landed perfectly—
Every hair.


And oh—
Oh how I miss her other side.

The one she hides,
But not with lies.

This is the side
She shows to me
When we are both
Very lonely.

She tried and tried with all her might,
But she could not do so on that lonely night.

That night,


She decided to give up the fight.


Oh, how I miss her,



Naked and vulnerable



On that December night.

It has shattered.
It has shattered, but I put it back together.
It should be back together, right?
Right?


So how come it feels more broken than ever?

The door is oddly unlocked
As I turn the **** subconsciously
For whatever reason.

It creaks open,
And the soft afternoon light
Suddenly becomes blinding.

The floorboards twist,
Turn,
And scream under my weight.

And it begins to feel like
Someone’s been here before.


But I shrug it off
As if it’s nothing,
And keep going.

I send my feet to the living room
Step
By
Step,

Someone’s definitely been here.


But I shrug it off,
Not fully believing it’s nothing.
But nonetheless I keep going

into the living room.
Yes, that is where my feet go.

My eyes cannot fully register what is going on.


A scene out of a tragic painting,

Blood is dripping from the curtains hanging.


And there it lays—
The thing of ultimate dismay.

My mother,
The one who birthed me,
The one who raised me,
And the only one who loved me

is dead.

More dead than the ants we step on from time to time.

More dead than those who came before me
Hundreds of years ago.

More dead
Than my soul could ever be.

My mother,
A tapestry painted with blood,
Lays there

Desolate and beautiful.

A tear streaks her face,
As if to say,
“Why must you leave me in this place?”

I suddenly feel
That I’ve seen that look on her face.

I close my eyes,
As if it were all a bad dream,
Hoping to wake
And have some coffee with cream.

But I open my eyes to my mother’s demise,
And my ears start hearing
The sound of my own screaming.

The tears keep coming,
And she feels nothing.

She’s been stabbed
By someone who feels like me
repeatedly.
Blood spills out of her wounds
And I suddenly feel
That it once coated me.

The tears keep coming,
But I say nothing.



This tapestry
Was painted in blood.


And the artist,
I sickeningly realize,




Was none other





            than me.