I used to hear voices, of this I'm not proud
Often while thinking, I'm "thinking" out loud
I mutter sometimes and don't really know why...
Some think when I mutter, I talk to myself.
But I no longer talk to "myself"
Just "me" and "I."

when i wake
i battle with thoughts that
cloud my eyes
dewy from tears
i am utterly and totally
drenched in sadness

when i rise
i do what i can to
make a cup of coffee
let the dogs out
brush my teeth
and go to work

(clockwork)

life cycles through waves
of feeling this way and that
never quite being able to grasp
on to a specific emotion
to describe how i am feeling
like how i can wake this way
and lay my head down to sleep
feeling something close to hopeful
ready to rise again
and the thoughts no longer exist in the morning

i find myself very odd
but people don't get to hear
this side of me
mostly because they don't ask
but i don't mind

(clockwork)

i have seen terrible days
i have seen days filled with miracles
i have seen days that are bleaker than bland
but i would prefer to have the days of
feeling something than nothing at all
so i push forward
take my medication
go to my therapist
and go to church

sometimes i wonder if God knows
the inner workings of my thoughts
as well as the Devil
a baptism could never submerge
my thoughts
yet i sing on praising Him

what i do know
is whether i am up
or i am down
i am here

(clockwork)

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i’m cold,
and my shaking fingers are
shooting missiles toward you from
fifteen miles away.
texting is the worst form of communication.

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
can’t you ever answer the
******* phone when i call you?
do you even love me? do you
care that i’m in pain?
do you care that i’m waiting here,
alone, cold,
while you have your car and
some other ***** snuggled up under your arm?

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
what am i supposed to do,
leave you when you say you don’t care about me?
others have told me that i’m resilient
and i don’t want to make liars out of my friends.
i can take this. i can take this.
i’m not afraid of pain.
keep hurting me. tell me to **** myself
and i’ll kiss your calloused fingers
and worship you like nothing else.
i am on my knees
and the lentils you had me kneel on
are beginning to cut through my skin.
baby? do we still call each other,
baby?

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
do you remember that morning
when you called me a fat ******* *****
because i spilled coffee all over the kitchen floor?
do you? because i do.
and i would crawl through the coffee and the
scattered glass like a dead man does through hell,
trying to get to something better
but knowing they never will.

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i am not crazy.
well, i am crazy.
but i’m not crazy here.
here, i need you to hear me.
don’t just say you do-
actually do it.
pull my heart out and look how it
pulsates with love.
every beat was made for you
and you just won’t look.
you won’t listen.

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i have put my hands
through blazing fire to
soothe your enormous ego
and you can’t pick me up
from the ******* bus stop.
****! what’s a girl got to do
to find a man that will
lick her wounds and devour
her fears? am i not worthy of love?
should i just **** myself?

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i’m a mistake. i am unlovable.
i am a ruined being left alone by God to
suffer in this hell we call life.
everything he says about me is right.
i’m difficult. i cry too much. i’m too depressed.
i’m crazy. i’m crazy. i’m crazy.

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
what was i thinking?
i don’t need a man. i don’t need anyone!
i am more godly than anything up in the sky
or beneath the earth!
i am the vacuum of space
and i’ll suffocate those who think
i’m anything less than perfect.
why won’t he pick up
the ******* phone?

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i check my phone.
it’s 7:11pm.
the bus isn’t coming.
i don’t think it ever was.

have you ever felt your memories crawl up your throat?
the pain of each nightmare coming afloat.
the flashbacks swallow you whole.
there's no hope for your soul.

do you live your terrors day after day?
the corrupted thoughts won't go away.
its blade slices your skin
allowing the bad thoughts in.

save me.
hear me.
pull me from this pit
please, before i quit.

give up on this.
it's them you'll miss.
release me
subdue me

please let me be free.

These knotted guts
eject my pulsating heart,
while I wait for my welfare
to imminently crumble–
I’m lunging from my vessel.

I frantically survey for danger,
but the culprits remain covert–
I turn up empty on my basis.

But failing to subside, I wonder…
do the wires of my diagnosis
wrap me in incessant neurosis?
Or has conditioning to trauma
trained my brain to fear?

Regardless I remain engulfed
by this looming devastation,
and my neck constantly aches
from looking over my shoulder.

Look, here I am
Reclined, legs akimbo,
Outwardly bulging to lordosis.
A pint of blueberries on my hips, form
A **** train through my lips

I had been honored by the Hoarding Board:
Primly donuts, princely Kinder,
Father Belvita, priggish pretzels.

They were folded
With teeth, into acid.
They're all memorialized, in thrall
Wrappers nested within wrappers

Yes. Here I am
Churning away
My heart pulsing lust
My fingers settling dust.

Your concerns in front of the mirrors
Of dressing rooms, of fitness-gymnasiums
Petty.

I'm above all that,
I ate all of that.
Pretty.

Astonishment,
Admonishment,

Quivering lies through the eyes of arrogance doubt.

Fancy hearing the turbid tones of truth as the skies fall upon….you.

Yet you blame.

Shame for shame, playing your endless games.

Ill-guided moresence proves the downfall of all,
Your ill-fated squalor talks more than you know.

Yet your speech is mute to yourn.

Baited falter,
Caught in your own web.

I will listen to yours no longer.