ive always been told to make sure i dont rely on people
i need to make sure i rely in myself
i need to make sure i can take care of what i need to do
and cast aside what's irrelevant

and i completely agree
and ive slowly started to condition myself to do so
i hope im successful

its kind of hard though now
when advice with good intentions backfires like that

i dont rely on people, yes, that is true
but i have problems trusting people when they trust me
i dont know how to stop concealing because when i finally want to open these pages i cant seem to break through its spine
i cant seem to figure out the right things to say until after the brass shells have dropped to the floor

success ***** for once

my love,
continue with your unfiltered commentary,
ask your questions that pierce my heart because you know that i'm lying to you
ignore that i'm bleeding
just as i've ignored you as you have already bled to your death.
life no longer flows through your veins
as affection never really flowed through mine.

Alone in my head,
I'm feeling so low,
You wont understand,
No one can know.

My eyes are so tired,
I can't sleep at night,
Your face haunts my dreams,
When I turn out the light.

It happened so suddenly,
It happened so fast,
I knew all at once,
That none of this would last.

Was I just a game?
Was this all just for fun?
Did my feelings matter,
To anyone?

"This didn't mean anything",
That's what you said,
As I was so shamefully,
Getting up from your bed.

I held my head high,
As I walked by your side,
Tears welling up,
I was dying inside.

Weeks have passed,
Keeping secrets, telling lies,
I don't have the strength,
To look either of them in the eyes.

My heart has been broken,
Not once, but twice,
Once by my best friend,
Once by the love of my life.

Deep down inside,
I know it's my fault,
So I'm just going to lock it,
Away in my vault.

Sometimes I still think of you,
When I'm lying in bed,
Still all alone,
Inside of my head.

"On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur."*
Mais, à mon avis, quand j'ai vu quelquechose avec mon cœur,
Quand j'ai décidé
ou j'ai entendu
Les choses devinnent malheureux pour moi.
Pourquoi je choisirais quelquechose
ou quelqu'un
que voulait me blesser?

I've read so many things to try to comprehend the way I'm feeling.
Years of research.
Decades of those prior to me.
This extraterrestrial rush of chemicals flowing from different parts of my brain
It doesn't feel right.
I hate it.
I am concrete.
Earth.
Grounded.
Why must these things keep trying to pull me away from the soil in which I was born from and will return to?
From dust to dust.
Ashes to ashes.
I can't fall down.

Everything is ephemeral.
Me.
These figments of my imagination that claw away at me.
These thoughts that keep whirring,
grinding the gears inside the factories polluting even the most miniscule crevices of my mind.
But this is slowly warping my earth
My dust
My ashes
To mud.
Water.
Air.
The molecules change.
Atoms vibrate sporadically.

Dust to dust.
Ashes to ashes.
Fall down.

this is an alphabet of all the people
who have dug holes in me,
and of all the people
who are still digging.

this is a gardening guide
for would-be lovers and pretty faces
who do not even realize
that they are carrying shovels.

this is a weather forecast written
from past experience,
a reminder that winter
is not kind on crops,
no matter how firmly you pack the dirt.

this is me,
reflecting on seeds planted.

this is me,
reflecting on seeds left to die.

A,
i suppose it is fitting that the first letter
is also the first person to show me what it is like
to have seedlings sprouting up from inside you,
the first person to show me just how deep you really have to dig
to make the sting last.
you never came back to water what you planted.

H,
i’d like to say to that i ripped out your roots with my own two hands;
i’d like to give myself some credit in all this.
you don’t look as lovely as you used to.
you say i’ve grown distant.
i’m sorry.

J,
you always feel like being on the verge of something big.
you feel like summer, like a deep purple,
a bath of darkness.
you are everywhere that plants do not grow well.
and i have always felt — and still do feel — 
that that is such a grave injustice.
still, though you cannot speak the word “devotion,”
i beckon for more seeds.

P,
my greatest heartbreak.
heartbreak, though, is but a flesh wound when seen from afar.
and so i thank god for the miles between us.
i can feign forgetfulness when you are far away.
after all, what is a shovel in your hands if those hands cannot reach me?

S,
you are but a bud waiting to bloom.
and yet again i find myself so very afraid of growth.

(a.m.)