People do not come with a
paper back book filled with
things we will learn to love.

We figure out who we are
from the ones who are around us.
From what we read and watch.
People are confusing and hateful
I thought we were Gods children?

But who am I to be talking.
a  atheist of some sorts.
I myself do not believe in god
but those who do, shouldn't be so
so serious.

A book written long ago
should not be taken
to heart.
It should just be a guide
to people who are lost.

I am lost
yet I do not believe.
I will find my own map
someday.

She walks into school
      and it starts again
           the shaking,
               it rips through her like a wave
She hears the sound of the voices
      in the hallway
         yet she cant make out what they're saying
She thinks all eyes are on her,
     everything is just one big blur
She hears laughter and
     she automatically thinks its
        directed at her
She waits in the bathroom
     like she does every morning
        for the halls to be clear
She walks out
     and wipes away her tears

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

I want to run away
I want you to pick me up in your car
in the middle of the night and venture off to places we don't know.
I want to wake up besides you in the middle of nowhere
with the morning sun hitting your beautiful eyes
and the feeling of freedom
and true happiness
and real love.
And if this is what being lost feels like
I never want to go back home.

Tell me to go home again, tell me that I look tired one more time. Maybe that will be the push I need. Ask me what’s wrong again. Maybe this time I’ll tell you that I’m tired of the sun rising in the northwest instead of the east. This time I’ll tell you that I so badly want to detox from the drug that is your name. Because every time I hear it, smell it, and taste it I fall deeper down the rabbit hole. Spinning and swirling down the spiral to get to your home. How can you be friends with someone when all you crave is the sound of your name on their lips. When all you want is their hands on your hips and in your hair one more time. Drink in my thoughts the same way you sip that cheap beer. Tired of those eyes that watch you like the preview of their favorite movie only to decide to save it for another rainy day. Pause, rewind, play. Repeat.