Lust oozing from pores
Late night, during the day too
Must stop, search the soul

All the gods are now asleep!
So..
You might want’a get back on your feet!
Now the power is in our hands!!
We can decide to be happy or not give a ****..
Love thy self,
in to good health and a positive peace of mind.
Take a jog and lift some weights..  
Make the best of life!
……
To the bar!

The day has come where we all say goodbye
as if we wont see each other again
in our lifetimes
the last day of school
      I am left to
eight more hours in my own
      mind
I hope I see you next year
but only if I'm still here

I yearn for a chain of moments to be myself
By myself
Just me and no one else
Why then do I put those thoughts in a jar
With no air holes
On an out of reach shelf?
And expect it not to
Affect my mental health
Solitary has it's value
While family and popularity
Can be an overvalued wealth

©2025

You, my past and my present
You try to help with lonely lessons
You, you **** me and you bleed
Through every vein inside of me

You, my future and my end
You stitch me up with torn back mends
You, you keep my joys unfound
I gotta gut me to end you now

It never will be easy
To get tumours removed
That’s a fact especially  
When that tumour is you

I need to rip off my own flesh
This cyst, this germ, this flu
It’s me, the chronic sickness
That needs to be removed  

I’ll dig you up with sharpened steel
And rip this tumour out
I don’t think I can fully heal
Without killing myself

You, my love and my sorrows
You bleed me out until I’m hollow
You, I’ll never say goodbye  
You’re all I have and I’m all bled dry

You, you’re something I must lose
But you are me and I am you
You, you’re something deep engraved
And I’ll live with you until my grave

Melt the lump rising in your muscle.
Burst the pulse swelling in your mind.
Take a ride to the haven in your veins.
Carve pottery from the remnants of your ashes.

I understand the pain that stings your abdomen when you hustle.
I know how much those harsh periods confined you.
Your eyeballs screamed out the stigma found in your stains—
colors that made rainbows when they flashed.

It wasn’t your fault.

I know the stains may shame you,
but believe me—you won’t die.
Don’t lose the fight to that material you can’t afford.
There are days coming when your body will leave this cave of ignorance.

There is a solution that will change the game.
There is something called antibiotics that will dry your tears.
This red fluid is called menstrual discharge.
It isn’t an illness.

How does one break free of the cage that they themselves are?
When do you become something other than the accumulation of yet another scar?
I am me, but who am I,
Not to the world but simply to myself?
Why is everyone else's
Description of who I am just a laundry list
Of obvious and subconscious
Cracks in my mental health?
What could I tell a younger me
That would change the reality of his destiny?
He would have to see all I had to see
But without tragedy would I even recognize me?

©2025