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what is lonely?
when it’s a feeling
you’re suffocated by
even when
someone has their arms
wrapped around you

my friends say
they love me
but how could that be true?

my husband does
whatever he can
to avoid being
in the same room with me

and who could blame him?
i’m not even alive
i’m just here
faking every breath,
every moment
until i’m finally laid to rest
there is nothing left
of me
a rotten frame
that falls apart
more and more
each day
there’s not much left to say
i guess
i’ll eventually
fade away
but until then,
will i be okay?

i find myself disgusting

that i

that i

that i

it only gets hidden
but it never goes away

i feel sorry
for the people who love me
what a waste of their time
to bother caring
for someone
who spends so many hours
dreaming about dying
i have an ugly mind
why am i even trying?
i’m a ghost
i’m a shell
oh no,
once again
i’m lying
it’s good to know you
because of your laugh

when i see you smiling
it lightens the dark spots
on my heart
and fills my tummy
with butterflies
and knots

i really care about you, lots

i know that life is a *****
and your brain sometimes tells you
nasty lies
and ugly fibs
but my friend,
we are all ****** up
we all have have things
we’d like to change
life is just dumb like that
life is so strange
but you’re not alone,
and i can promise you
i’m just as insane

please don’t disappear
into yourself
because that’s when it gets scary
that’s when the intrusive thoughts win
and we can’t let those *******
have your trophy
the dark corners of your mind
will do their best
to blow their dust
into your lungs
but hold your breath
and turn away
to see just how far
you’ve come
cracks form all around my body
like an egg shell
and the icky, gooey bits
underneath begin
to seep through
to the surface

my heart hurts so much
as it bleeds
filling me from the inside out
with thoughts of my
pathetic needs
creeping up on me
every night
while i’m trying to sleep
and reminding me
why there’s so little
in which i believe

i spread my teeth apart
to form gaps when i smile
trying to let my secrets out
one drop at a time
but every time i bleed
i keep picking at the wounds
instead of letting them heal
there’s nothing scarier in this world
than admitting how i feel
i don’t always know
if it’s worth the fight
what is wrong
or right?
should i open my eyes
in the morning
do i continue the night?

i don’t want to know myself
as well as i do
and there is still so much
that i hide from
but what i know to be true
is awful
and there is nowhere to run
but further inward

which is becoming harder
and harder
to achieve

you see,
there are so many masks
layered on top
of me
keeping my eyes covered
and causing blindness
to what really needs
to be seen

but admitting
that you’re afraid
of yourself
is stupid
and who am i
to stand between
and myself
and all the
crazy things
i dream
i try to open my eyes
and realize they are
nothing but buttons
i try to spread my wings
and plummet
to the ground
it’s all been a lie
and they’re only
made of cardboard
that gets soggy
and falls apart
when it rains

can anybody hear me screaming?
or is it all in my head?
doesn’t my false smile
tell you the lies you want to hear?
masking my tears
and living within a façade
to blend in with the crowd
trying to make sure
i’m not crying too loud
my mind swims
in a pool
of self doubt
and i never even know
what i’m
so depressed about
relahxe May 26
In the depth of the night,
when the crickets and cicadas
are holding my pain,
and they chirp as each tear wets the pillow,
I would like for you to hold it too.

To be fully seen is to be
a closed book with a lock,
for he who has the key.
He who cannot wait for the night
to come and let his pain be held
and also hold hers.

He prepares himself and reads
a page or two a day,
immersing himself more and more
in the story of her.

To be fully seen is to know well—
he could grab a pen and scribble all over,
add a page or two,
write instead of you.
Yet give him the pain, and the pen and the markers,
excited to see what he'd do.

Because you have his book, too,
and all you want to do is highlight,
draw a rose or two,
plant a kiss or two,
where the scars are visible,
where the pages are torn.

When it feels like too much—
two people and two books—
to be fully seen
is what I am here for:
to open the book of my heart
and my life
with hands trembling,
with eyes caught,
with heart open.

Did you throw away the key?
Forget it...
I want to read your book, too.
For every page that ends with a question,
I'll make sure to add my answer to my book.

To be fully seen,
as a soul, naked,
floating in space,
with you,
you can let go,
with all my secrets,
with all my questions,
with my book.

You can tear it to pieces if
you so decide.
With my heart trembling,
and a bag of markers,
I'll return your book and the key
and be glad I was fully seen.
At least, I tried to be.

Sometimes, no matter how much you explain,
the person cannot read your book well,
nor remember the details
carefully underlined by you.

Maybe, just maybe, the closure is to see
it's not the quality of the book;
maybe the genre's just not his cup of tea.
i’ve struggled
with my mental health
for my entire life
and i realize
that i can
either be
really fun
and happy

really miserable
and it can be difficult
to know
how to interact with me

that pushes
a lot of
people away

i’m like a yinyang
of Eeyore
and Tigger
that spins
and you never know
you’re gonna get
Arlo Disarray May 26
i unscrew
my head
like a lightbulb
let all
my thoughts
spill out

if i hand you
my head,
will you see
i’m dead?
is this
the end?

a better me
doesn’t exist
at least,
not yet
but i’m trying to
tiptoe my way
and for now
i’ll take
what i can get
Arlo Disarray May 22
all the flags
waving in front
of me are red
and the thoughts
of dread
and feelings of
are fighting
in my head

there’s something
about having to hide
that makes me
feel dead
but at the same time
i hate seeing myself
and all my ugliness
in the light
maybe this is wrong
maybe it’s the only thing
that’s right
in my life

i don’t know
i can barely
sleep at night

i know i’m a **** up
and even when i
the efforts are
i end up
with no end in sight
never even
dreaming or hoping
that i’ll end up
on top
or even in the middle
i’ll keep bringing
myself back down
to the bottom
the hole is deeper
than the darkest
part of the ocean
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