i always found it easier to blame myself
responsible for your feelings
incapable of handling my own
i felt so much wiser when things were unknown
now I stand in the future and now I stand in the future and now I stand in the future
but im still the same age
im still the same
12 with that look on my face
14 with a secret to trace
16 with the weight of the world
18 with so much to conquer
20 with nothing to do
20 with nothing to prove
20 with nothing to lose
maybe the cycle stops when I do
but this time, blame yourself.

Start by wearing your heart on your sleeve.
You don't know any better yet,
up to this point the world has been good to you.
When your heart starts catching
on door knobs
and being battered against the black top,
you carefully tuck the gently scratched ***** in your pocket.

In your pocket,
out of sight
it's a little harder for the bruises to land.
Over time
the blood stain of time spent hidden
seeps through.
When the first blow lands
it knocks the wind from you.
You still don't lock your heart up.
You just move it back into your chest.

You don't sew yourself shut,
cracked ribs spread wide,
a tourniquet wrapped around one chamber,
the abused ***** still trying to beat
it's an erratic rhythm,
but it's a pulse.
It's not even shocking,
when daggers come from the front
or behind
and twist into the gnarled flesh.

Arterial spray,
broken pieces you've given away,
cover the walls.
Bones curl around
to try to protect you,
but you've never been able
to close yourself off completely.
The worst part is,
you sort of enjoy the pain.
For a moment,
the heart remembers
before the first bruises marred the skin,
before you built a cage to exist within.

I was alone in the abyss, searching far and wide,
Its smile shot to me like an illuminating light.
I tried to grab the beam but there was a voice that said
Darling the beam isn't real, just ask for it's hand.
And out it came a hand so so bright
The darkness surrounding was consumed by its light.
The colors I saw were vivid and clear, all I needed was this hand to wipe away my tears


Alas the beam couldn't wash away my sins, I needed to see more and was consumed by greed.
It's human nature, it's our need. I wanted to see more of you, from the abyss I wanted to be freed.
The hand pulled away with such might and such speed and told me it didn't want to mislead.
I begged and begged but no matter my plead, I was gray and it was bright, it couldn't mix with my creed.


To the hand now I say, why did u illuminate my night to day.
If I had never known the brightness of the colors, the world around me would've remained gray.
Now as you slowly pull back your beam I ask in dismay, as you go please take this pain away.

if only any crowd i enter
could give me that same old
mystic ecstatic airborne drug
of elated nightblindness...

or at least a break from this
damp dormant disillusionment,

you would definitely find me
anywhere roaming rampant
restless and so discontent—

        —instead of gasping
        for oxygen that
       we didn't already
        use up together,

or suffocating myself
with the refused exhales
i used to scream out
as soon as you weren't there
to listen to me obediently
accordingly silently suffer...

                 you did tell me once before
      that you will do to me
                     ...whatever you wanted to;

well, now that i seem to
no longer matter to you,
would you be so kind
and take away all this*
useless infected air away too?

       cause if breathing
   just means to inhale
            the same breath i used to
         cry out every single night
    i let you scar and bruise me...

(a billet-doux to HP)

4 minutes til (virtual) class
“Dang”, I think. I need to post today's poem!
I paste the poem, the title, the tags.
I have the sense that once the page says “saving draft” I’m *******.
So I quickly press save.. and..
502 bad gateway
“Argh,” I say under my breath, glancing at my clock.
I press refresh.
Do you want to submit the form?
Of **** course I want to resubmit - I press submit.. and..
502 bad gateway
“Oh my f-king GOD!” I yell at my iPad
I press refresh.
Do you want to resubmit?
Yes, yes, YES- I resubmit, I submit, I supplicate, I grovel.. and..
502 bad gateway
2 minutes
I scream a line of obscenity that would **** the Pope if he were here.
I refresh
One of my roommates inquired, “Are you ok?” from her room.
I resubmit and.. and.. and..
“Yes!” I yell, to reassure my roommate, “Website issues,”
it finally, finally posts.
A “Whoom” sound announces the start of my virtual class.

Please, tell me...
Tell me if you love me,
I still don't know what you think of me
My heart serenades for your love endlessly,
I won't bat an eye if all went down tragically

With my life of screaming melancholy,
tell me that you loved me.