I like to lay in the bed that smells of us
where I'm losing my sadness in idle days
when spring means nothing,
when the walk in the endless garden is no longer a purpose,
cherry blossoms distract my empty eyes,
instead of sketching a smile my eyes hit the ground
the green grass screams at me and wants to chase away the gray,
then I talk to heaven,
I look for the sun that seems hidden for an eternity,
the singing of the birds, a tortuous composition is bothering me now,
but sadness has its beauty
I feel it in a subtle silence
and I search where there is nothing left, for healing...

If I should end
then,
well, I guess that's
that.

Self preservation
makes enough sense,
until I rise
from ancient fears.

A smile
can't crack
to
predators
on the
attack.

A smile
in heart,
in
spirit, soul,
against
the world.

The cruel will turn to worms.
I might scream, nail under nail,
but I'll not have failed myself.

The cruel will turn to worm
food,
And they may get to you,
but,
so what?

The cruel will turn to worm
food,
And they may come for you,
but,
so what?

My time is mine,
and I, don't have time
to fight systems
of imaginary lines.

(I paint them)

I'm surely turning, slowly,
into worm food, too.
I don't want to waste my time
with you, fighting.

If I should end
then,
well, I guess that's
that.

the storm clouds threatened
to pull me into the blue river
and drown me in a mix of cobalt and smoke

i was pushed into the rift
the folds of brine,
so i pulled out my pockets
hoping the last bit of blush pinks
and buttercup yellows
would save me from the patches
of leaden gray

everyone has scars
they don’t want others to see
including me
mine just so happen to be
written on my body

this body
holds more darkness
than the galaxies have ever seen
these hands can’t hold a thing
but scars underneath
from swimming in oceans
alone, trying to breathe

now i find myself
in deep waters again
the ever tightening gyre
pulling me back
into its cold embrace
but i find comfort in the same
gray hues of mental illness
i’ve lived in for years
its broken here
but it’s home
with cracks in the foundation
and holes punched in the walls
why have i let this become my home?

it’s become lonely here
but don’t get me wrong
i wouldn’t wish this upon anyone else
to have so much pain within
or to hate themselves enough
they want to starve and scar
their own beautiful bodies or
their own beautiful skin
why am i feeling
so numb again
?
3/31/2019

I'm not a monster
But I can be trouble
So I don't need people
To come and burst my bubble
But who wants to be alone
You monsters love playing games
Can you not wait till I am gone
To start giving me cruel names
From family to "friends" till we start over again
Why does it want me to suffer so
All I wanted to do was try to blend in
But here I am left empty in a one-man show
Often I'm writing, and I'd rather not be
Constantly wondering if this is meant to be reality
Begging for someone something to change this ending
I'd hate for the only love I get to be when someone is sending.
But I can't say that I don't get love and life
It's just I'm not fond of the distant love that's out of sight
So, be blunt and listen to my hone cry for you to come home
Cause I don't want to be here in this darkness all on my own.