The darkness that consumed me made me feel like wanting
to die, even before the age of nine.
However, let's count our blessings that none of the individuals
in the house owned a nine. I find myself engulfed in these thoughts,
I make a desperate plea to hold on, just like hanging
clothes on a line.
The voices inside my head ring relentlessly, like an
ominous chorus on this figurative suicidal line.
            1-800-273-8255
Please could you pick up, it's feeling serious this time.

My heart remains motionless, resembling a lifeless mannequin, and if you look closely, you may witness the damages.
I cautiously open the door to my own insanity, but the idea of grappling with its dark influence feels overwhelmingly intimidating,— I can't handle this.
Fear grips me as I contemplate unveiling my eyes, for I
dread the somber reality that they will behold.
Once again, I urge my thoughts to remain steadfast, like
clothing hung on a line, as the echoes of the voices -
The voices inside my head ring relentlessly, like an
ominous chorus on this figurative suicidal line.
            1-800-273-8255
Please could you pick up, it's feeling serious this time.


A peculiar itch consumes my lips, almost as if I long for
the  Death's kisses. Within the depths of my depression, I struggle to maintain a sense of identity, for this overwhelming sadness has become my greatest weakness. I endeavor to traverse the arduous path of mental instability, navigating the metaphorical distance of a "crazy mile".
However, I feel invisible, unnoticed by the world as I bear witness to my own pain. The allure of escapism entices me, enticing me to run towards the temporary relief that a blade may bring,— cutting myself more this time.
Once again, I beseech my thoughts to cling tightly, like
clothes delicately draped on a line.
The voices inside my head ring relentlessly, like an
ominous chorus on this figurative suicidal line.
            1-800-273-8255
Please could you pick up, it's feeling serious this time.

Over there: the Ocean,

inside me another one --


Without Lighthouses.

As I string words together
From existing thoughts
Aiming at shaping souls
That will make the future
I ask…

Will there be more questions
Will there be more wonder
Will there be more action
Or just more plunder

Will there be more thinking
Will there be more linking
Will there be more sinking
In the depth of life

Will there be more focus
Will there be more locus
Or just more shrinking
In the width of sight

Will there be less shirking
Will there be less cringing
Or just more complaining
About the strive

The saboteurs
Are not only those
Who tell lies

But us
Who help them
Defeat us

By closing the window
And blaming the sun
For not shining in

That…
     is a bigger sin!

A wise man once said
Strive for knowledge, not money
Because knowledge guards you
While you guard your money

If you start questioning it,
she will too,
and then she'll be grateful
that you made her stop and think about it all
because she'll realize you were never
what she wanted.

But what it'll take you a while to realize
is she wasn't what you wanted
either.

I feel it bubbling up again
Like nausea, the feeling right before you *****
Uncontrollable and unstoppable
And utterly gut wrenching and ugly
A crush---

I can't just crush on you
Without being crushed
The weight of wanting like a boulder on my chest
It hurts, it heaves
It takes over my brain like a parasite
I feel little worms carrying thoughts of you across my synapses
Eventually, my cells will be rewritten with your image
The image that I've created in my head
And the image of me that I imagine you want

I will look in the mirror and I will no longer see my face
I will only see through your eyes, I will see myself as what I need to change to be wanted by you

I can't do this
I'm ripping you off my skin, I'm clawing my way back through the mirror
I am holding my eyes wide open
Reality check---
I can't lose myself in someone else again
I can't break my own heart
I can't crush or be crushed

Live! Not dying
like all the sad-eyed people
but like the dog
that dances in the window

Wake up and look
There's sun, there's stars
there's daisies
and it swirls
in your ***

Wake up to a poem
Your blood flows
Spring comes and
there's bread in the oven

I'm not saying anything new
My words are clear
as water, as your soul
The sea falls and rises
but man is cruel

It takes me a lot

of time to properly show --


my inner beauty.

So what are the facts?

Just unforgettable, are --


my reconstructions.