My head is full of static, or maybe im made of static, all i know is I’ve lost myself in it and im not sure how to find my way out. Ive lost all feeling, its almost like im not even really here at all.
I feel myself fading, i wish i could save her but i know that she must be long gone now, i feel myself becoming someone else, someone i ******* hate. But i cant stop it the static, the constant feeling of.....

“Forget it, I don’t know. Never mind. Its okay im okay, no its really fine i don’t know its just a bad day, don’t worry about it.”

Static fills my chest as my vision blurs and im gone lost in my head the world around me just gone, everything sounds far away,  sometimes i wish i could stay here forever. Where the world is quiet and i don’t have to feel, or really think, its the closest thing ill get to peace. But i always snap back, and the sounds rush in and I’ve lost another piece of myself.

long time friend, don't lie
I can see you
your sincerest hour
when you come with tail between legs
there is pretext

lie about lies, stop stop
it don't matter
ascend disconnection
the whothewhatthewherethewhenthewhythe or the howthe
give no pooh-bah

it’s so hard to grasp the letters that keep f          
                                                                ­             a    
                                                                ­                     l
                                                                ­                  l    
                                         ­                                             i
                                                                ­               n      
                                                         ­                           g  
down the notebook page.

i try to hold them lovingly with my not so delicate hands but they                                                             ­                                                   
           l                                                                ­                                          
              e       ­                                                                 ­                                
          a                     ­                                                                 ­                                    
                k
through my fingers
and i watch them as they climb my walls and
jump on my bed
they flee through the glitching door
and through the floor
some go through the window cracks
i try to warn them that it’s raining outside,
but they stick their tongues out,
letting out impish laughs
and run for their lives
and disappear between the thick raindrops

right above my head a group of cursive ghost letters
exit through the ceiling
amidst the chaos one of them falls
and lands on the blank notebook

it’s the letter D
for Despair

Tell me,
How many sips does it take,
How many puffs does it take,
How many pills does it take,
How many sniffs does it take,
How many needles does it take,
To feel the way I do?

I am the spark that starts the fire.
I am the flame
the oxygen that fuels the burn
and the inferno.

I am the aspirin
that cures you
and I am the cyanide that kills you.

Only touch me if you dare;

I am a land mine.

I am a lone flower petal.

I am the hand that takes the gun from your head
at your lowest points.
I am the finger that pulls the trigger
behind your back.

Who am I?

i am a skeleton,
with crumbling bones
and an irregular beating heart
on the brink of collapsing.

i am an ice cold silhouette
of a girl with sunken eyes
and shriveled lungs
slowly shrinking inside
my concaved chest.

my hips protrude like shards of glass,
shattering onto the gaps between my thighs,
and my collarbones
are sharper than knives,
slicing and dicing
a year off my life everyday.

i am a rotten corpse,
with worn out ribs
and a cracked spine
disintegrating into nothing but
ash and dust.

this is what death looks like.

i am not my own.

what's that feeling
oh what is it
what's that feeling of
anger
compliance
fogginess
confusion
anxiety
anxiety
anxiety
a­nxiety

that feeling of
shivering
grinding teeth
breathing less
wanting less (food)
food
is
disgusting

but you've hardly eaten since two days

you know you need to eat but you can't and you won't and most importantly you want to but you don't because you can't and you won't

i am dying
i could be dying
i could die

shivering shaking vibrating
my feet are purple from folding them in
from folding my body into itself
and disappearing

shame

Co u    n          
                t
                             y        o
                                                u r
   p  

              a          r
                      
                                 t                         i
      
  
                                           c                      l


                                                              e
                                                                   s

                                   .

Morning rinses,
bleak as night’s wishes.
Mirror stares, a returning glance,
empty and a portrayal of trance.
Running wet hands through a face
which then becomes faces out of place.
Fabrication of dried skin, weakened,
by morning rinses, a beg to look thin.

It is the one thing that keeps the mind
distracted by  the tangled brain saying nevermind.
Skin glistening, memories, enchanting like they’re
misery struggling to know, just where?
Where do these ideas come from?
Surely, nothing exists in a mind so dumb.
Possessed by the walls,
struggling to hear the morning bird calls;

Morning rinses.
Morning rinses,
of the face so purely lacking anything,
or is it just telling you something?
The worlds of regret are finally drowning,
but you are not the one who is allowing.
No, you are just the observer,
and this morning will last forever.