i've held the knife
felt the cold edge of the blade against my throat
my wrist
that tiny voice inside me screaming with joy
'it'll all be over'
'pull the plug!'
i'm terrified of living.
of enduring this ceaseless torment day after day after day
seething, writhing, floundering in an ocean of pain
but the terror of attempting and being left unsuccessful scares me even more.
the fear of failure in every aspect of my life
it comes back and bites you in the back
when you finally had the chance to be free
end it all
it chains you down and keeps you there
watching you struggle
i can't escape it
the endless ******* cycle of self doubt and fear
so i'm still here
seething, writhing, floundering in an ocean of pain.

the clutches of depression never truly let go
you have a few good days
a few fond memories
some laughs, the feeling of loneliness is combatted by warmth
a warmth that kinda sorta feels like home

and then one night you're back in your room again
city lights flickering in through the window
the feeling of dread creeps up in the back of your mind
it engulfs your brain

you swallow it down but it only spreads to your stomach
your lungs
cutting off your breath

suddenly you're suffocating again.
you're on the bathroom floor with the blade in your palm
wishing for it all to be over

just like you were.

writing turns pain into poetry.
something dark, cold and dreadful into beauty.
etched into the universe forever.

but,

when i'm happy,
when life is blissful,
when the rain feels euphoric
i become at a loss for words..
i go blank
the feeling of felicity is fleeting.
and is then forgotten.

life goes back to being blank and empty,
and the beauty of the moment that once existed,
is lost forever.

why do i bear my sadness like armour.
and let the happiness slip through my fingers.

Certainly, AI

isn't the future, it does not --


escape from what is.

why do i always have to fall in love with the people who will never love me

My hair is unruly,
I don't like my teeth.
I haven't seen my debit card
in three ******* weeks.

If I'm not early,
I'll be ******* late.
"Just be on time"—
my brain doesn't work that way.

I did three loads of laundry,
yet have four to fold.
I planned to make a salad
but the lettuce has mold.

The lettuce has mold?
The lettuce has mold.
I swear I just bought it,
I didn't think it was old.

What day is it?
Do you know the time?
I can't find my keys
but I'm thinking in rhymes.

Did you tell me the date?
I'm sorry—I forget.
I'm sure that you did.
I just haven’t remembered it yet.

A mile a minute
is how my mind goes.
Do you want to rearrange the living room?
Should we go to Lowe’s?

These boxes I found
haven’t been opened in ages.
I found an old journal
and sped through the pages.

I should throw it away
but I think I might keep it.
It’s treasured this way,
and no one learns my secrets.

I’m sorry I’m on a tangent,
did we have plans?
I’m sorry to abandon,
I live in my head man

I’ve got so much to do,
I couldn’t possibly go out.
Have you seen my bathroom?
I must clean the grout.

You can stay if you want,
in fact, I’d like that very much,
if you don’t mind my gibberish
and constant running amuck.