Ones who were friends torn away
Off against you
No longer caring or accepting you
You're on your own
Everyone for themselves
On the battlefield, you've fought your hardest
To be beaten and rendered hopeless  
Right when you break down
When you're on the ground, just not caring anymore
You pray to be shot
You pray to be killed
For you don't even have the strength to end yourself
The worst has already happened
What worse could happen
Please, tell me
Then suddenly, finally, you're hit
Sliced through with a bullet
As you slowly go, flashbacks of the happy faces come to mind
And go as quickly as your life
As you're left there
Alone
At War
You lost the battle
But not you're self

a lovely place
of lovely memories
full of young future
and
furniture

My memories take over my mind.
They torture me like depression,
Eating me alive.
Why can't I get away from these memories?
Why can't I just let it slide?
Why can't I stop the flashbacks?
Flashbacks that keep eating me alive.
I want it all to disappear inside a box
A box that I will never open again,
And maybe then I'll finally win.

I tasted a lingering shot of ****** *****
on my tongue
before my mouth tasted
the rest of the night.
I pretended that I was
much drunker than I was
because I thought that would
make it easier,
less painful.
I gave myself a pep talk
and should've understood
that nothing wanted
needs convincing.
I've suppressed the act so much
in my subconscious
that I only remember it in flashes,
like a slow motion replay of a life-ending
car accident you'd see in a movie.
In some ways,
that scened ended me;
the world was fuzzier
than it had been the night before,
when I woke up no longer wearing
my agency.
The normalcy with which I picked myself up
from the dingy navy couch
was underwhelming
and haunting all at once.
I left with my dress and my shame clinging to me,
fearing not for myself
or how I had said no so many times before,
but instead that
giving it all still wasn't enough for you;
losing myself,
unraveling my soul wasn't worth
what I thought it would sell for.
All I saw was
the satisfaction that I had given that didn't satisfy you.

An emptied shell;
you took it all,
and I've been hollow ever since.

Flurries fall onto the window
As white fills the street
With a clean white sheet of snow
The phone rings
Schools have been cancelled
Call up my friends
“Let’s go down the BIG sled hill”
We meet up around 3PM
Where no little kids around to ruin our day
We pack snow to make a ramp
And drag our sleds up to the top
As we race down the sled hill one by one
Faster than light
Speed, I am speed
Feeling the freeze and staring at the jump ahead
Until we feel an elevation
Then we are sent flying high
Soaring faster than planes in the sky
Until we land
Hard landing but we land
Every laugh, every giggle fuels are adrenaline
As we take on the ramp
And build it up and build it up
Until we get the biggest jump
And once we get tired of that
We race down the hill
Trying to knock each other off to win
So we can go the finals
And be crowned a sled champion
In our fake world
And we rinse and repeat the same formula
Our creative minds wonder
Until it turns dark
Where our mothers come to pick us up at 8
Where we get hot chocolate at McDonalds
And head back to someone's house
Where pizza and drinks await
Where we go downstairs and play video games
And talk about girls all night
And sleepover and stay up til late
Still playing games
Having deep talks
Life, sports, girls, parents, etc.
Truth or Dare, What are the odds
Until we start to feel tired
And pass out and start dreaming
On the next snowfall
Under the white blanket

i touch my soul and release the ON switch.

The darkness beckons like an aborted child full of possibilities never explored.
Potential never reached.
Heights never teached.
Things never speeched.
But life goes on thrashing like a rude animal, desperately devouring all in its path with no end in sight, and no table manners.
Trembling slowly, my hand reaches into the abyss for a drop of light to comfort my flickering life force. The only channel of hope that now rushes with the ferocity of a dying turtle, with no home to speak of.

TICK TOCK, click clack, the only sounds that remind me that reality never shuts off.
Where’s the remote?

It was never invented.

My shadows play dead to my consciousness, never there to teach me my concrete lessons.

So I scratch my bed stings, reminders of my past, itches of my present, and marks  in my future.

The fade to black is my only resolution.

The gavel sounds and I pinch myself, hoping it’s a dream, no it’s just a scheme, ultralight beam?

The ticks turn into Morse code. Translation?



Start over.

Frigid fingers running down my spine
Wrapping around and squeezing my lungs
Coating me in thick layers of ice.
I'm forcing my feet flat on the ground,
Gripping onto the present so tightly
My knuckles turn an ugly shade of bone white.
Eyes darting, landing on things
In the now, hoping to not get lost
In hidden movies that attack me from the shadows
Mental VHS tapes that replay in high definition
Making me doubt my sanity.
Terror running so deep that I reach for blades
To carve not just into my skin
But my very own identity.
Chopping off chunks to store the flash flood
Without drowning in the swamp.
This saving grace rapidly turning
Into the one and only thing, I may not survive.
Shards, past broken off come back
So brittle and sharp they threaten to pierce
My heart at the slightest wrong move.
I have lived through one war only to enter another
That seems to have higher stakes.
Panic freezes my veins and leaves
Beads of cold sweat on my flesh.
I am paralyzed and frigid.
Gasping for each and every breath.