Like ships in the night
we pass - side by side - not breaking our stride,
not looking left, not gazing right,
barely glimpsing each other, like light-
houses, signals blinking brightly.

For the longest time we were alone
still are, no change tonight, we won't;
I've felt your presence long ago,
it was a silent gift.

How did we not recognize each other
after screaming for so many hours?
Listening to your soft cries  (your blue eyes),
Norwegian wood between us guards your lies -
you pretend to be rich and pretty;
I know you're just the janitor of the ferry.
The first mate, the captain, all remotely
far away and you're all that's left -
you are the second best.

Thankfully I'm not picky,
I don't care if you're not pretty,
I only need to see your hands and heart -
the rough patches are a part - of you, of me, of all the world,
and you're so out of reach, of sight,
and I know that it won't feel right; despite that
we shouldn't feel alone tonight.
And you have a wife-

and I know but I don't care.
You won't hesitate to stare,
and I can feel your bitter look upon my back,
the fingers that won't touch my neck
no matter how much I beg and plead for you to take me
and love me, unconditionally,
before I fall into the sea,
the water claiming me fully,
the waves brutally forcing me
under themselves, generously,
drowning in my bed.

Pushed to the side.
Faded into a lifeless mist.
Presence is gone.
Do I even exist?

I thought it would be just a normal day
seeing the way
clouds drifted across the sky
That is why
I wasn’t prepared
I got scared
when I heard that cry

The entire world screaming as one
Clouds catching on purple fire
blazing into the void of space
Thousand times more scorching
than Hell itself

Seas turning even more poisonous
than they already were
Swallowing lands to feed
the flames above

            Safe to say, there was panic.

Every living creature
in senseless horror
Tearing each other apart
just for a chance
to save themselves

                                     But there is no escape.

In no time
fiery skies and toxic waters
caught them

Devouring
Tormenting
Burning
Drowning

They were fed pleasures and pains
unknown to God
They were shown their innermost thoughts
and they retched in disgust
at the sight of their true selves

Mutilated beyond any recognition
so they could be born anew

Now
they were ready
Now
They were monsters.

Nothing i say
Nothing i do
Not even a sorry
Neither an excuse, nor a sentence
Will change years of silence

Now, all is meaningless
All in the past
The scene was set and
The page have been turned

There is nothing
Nothing will do
The case is closed
No me and you

I feel things fiercely. A whole new level of pain, sadness, and very occasionally joy. When my heart breaks, it falls from the top of a mountain to the deepest abyss of the earth. When I am hurt, I feel the pain of ten-thousand thorns piercing through my skin, a hundred poisonous snake bites, and 24 years of self deprecating thoughts all stirred into a single tear. Some might call it dramatic, but if they knew the impact it had on my thoughts, my smile,my whole life , they would eat those words as fast as they spit them out.

She's just being dramatic.

She's just too extreme.

She doesn't have control of her emotions.

You make it sound like I chose this, like I continue to choose this. When something "small" happens, like a friend not turning out to who you thought they were, or a moment not living up to its expectations, my whole world quakes. I cannot help it. I can't fix it. I didn't pick this. I didn't want to feel so impacted by the smallest movement. This is the way I was created and believe me, I am trying so hard to fix it - more than I could ever explain. The process of caring enough to fight instead of ending my life is something that might come easy for you, but takes a lot of convincing for me. Please try to understand. And if you don't, that's okay. I don't want to be here anyway.



-t.s.

When they couldn’t tell where you were going, those woods were dark.
The moonlight didn’t make it to your neck, the winds
****** the wet from your eyes and carried it until it was stale.

There were no creatures in those woods, only the incomprehensible whispers
Of men who had been lost there before:
Men with wives and ancestors younger than they.

Those woods were safe, but they had too many questions to answer,
Too many questions to remember or know at all.

Your feet reached a tree trunk that didn’t fall there on its own,
Knees clenched, your stomach caved into your spine.
The moonlight reached your neck just long enough to whisper
The last sentence those woods would remember:

“Go, you aren’t needed here anymore.”

You never realized that moonlight has a taste,
Or that you can spin from it an invisibly thin thread,
That is used to weave paper for the Titans.

Stars hang from around your neck like marbles,
Like so many trophies and answers to the questions you never knew to ask.
The Inky Black rests on your shoulders breathing the deep sighs of the giants
And the Oldest Ones, the ones before us and them.

The skies have left room for you now.

Every seldom moment your daughter reminds you of something you once knew
But forgot to remember, not for lack of trying.
Her questions about the questions, and a memory of a tree trunk.

In the distance, a softly whispered murmur escapes from the confusion,
And the lights around you sputter.
But there will never be, nor has there ever been
A star that remembers when those woods were dark.

dear world,

or.

at least,
this one,
where nobody knows me,
where nobody can really hurt me,
because,
how am I supposed to feel hurt by someone or something I don't even know?

anyways,
i'm just.
so tired.
i can't even sleep properly anymore.
i wake up the second i feel somewhat conscious,
i can't deal with the ******* of being everybody's scapegoat.
and when they need help,
i'm the person they turn to.

just.

even at this point in my life,
why am I still so indecisive?
I don't want to live,
but I'm too scared to use the painful ways of dying.

this may sound like another typical dramatic sad girl story,
but.
for me,
for someone that was so happy,
for someone that was SO confident.
so confident about how much she valued her life,
and anyone who tried,
tried to end their own,
was a ****** that needed to get some help,
somehow,
overdosed on painkillers.



intentionally.

and all I got,

was

the inability to hear for a week.

i don't know who or what's keeping me here;
I've lost all hope for my perfect story.
i'm sorry if i'm scaring you away,
hell,
i'm scaring myself.

but,
i'm probably just 'exaggerating' at this point.



                                 -YYC