Inside me lives the regret of high school.
Was standing beside achievers worth it?
I stood proud, loud; but what did it cost me?

My crippling body—frail, pale, and exhausted.
Was this the trophy? Was I proud to show this?
I was among the great, yet I was a pretender.
A pretender that I was okay with this lifestyle—
To keep up with the pressure, but was I really?

In the end, who was I trying to impress?
Was I supposed to feel this empty?
I achieved something, yet it meant nothing.
I stood on that pedestal, but the crowd was empty.
Now, I carry on the weight of who I tried to be.

I'm the first to leave,

because I'm a spectator --


of repetitions.

… and then he massaged after months

my heart lost its rhythm  
my mind lost its focus

my fingers lost their control
my eyes lost their dullness

That weight in my head
like honey in a jar
Dripping pain against insides of my skull on whichever side I roll
It's heavy, but floating
like black and sluggish cloud
Dripping, dizzy
Caused by dehydration, maybe stress,
or else the tears I never cried are staring to solidify.

Pale light
shines down
reveals the blank page.
Nothingness; an opporunity
- infinite.
the fool rushed in,
fiddled with some words,
adding up to nothing.
That’s the worst of it;
light wasted
and ink
and paper.

A taste like a hay,
Nothing satisfies
No one can save me
From my ability to realize.
Internal combustion takes over me,
As I stand on my own;
Trying to keep me down all the time I had myself shown.     
So, save me from this, make it end? I thought I'd say;
“No, I’d do everything to keep you breathe instead of to live.” It said.

✿   ✿   ✿


Haiku is not true

poetry by any means:

formulaic = dull