The hopelessness in a foreseeable car crash--
an emotion lasting a split second--
is unlike the crippling anxiety of a passenger
who fears the leather-bound mobile mercy seat.

Yet the mirage renders the victim just as helpless
in the impalpable facade of doom.

To never leave this room.

roses are fine and violets are too
but she is a garden
full of vibrant colors like the scarlet tint of her cheeks
or the amber glow of her eyes

she is the setting sun
a beauty so bright that i cannot gaze directly at her
yet so captivating that i cannot look away
i crave her gentle warmth on my skin

and if i tried to speak to her
the air in my lungs would leave my words in the dust
trapping them in the prison of my throat
and leaving me choking on the things i wish i could say

like how i go out of my way just to see her smile everyday

They deceive us
When they say
"Hold onto your dreams,
Never let them go."

Because they never
Tell us what to do
When you dream
An Impossible Dream.

Such a dream
Can never occur,
Not because you lack the ability,
But because it would defy reality.

Some can learn to let go
Of such dreams.
Yet the cursed who cannot
Live tortured lives of unfulfillment.

So tell me now,
You elderly, supposedly wise:
What am I to do
With my Impossible Dream?

I don't need no arms around me.
I pretend I love anyone. I pretend to drool honey onto the paper-thin skin of things that barely breathe through their own lungs that they've smoked black and blue and filled with water and soot and ****. I pretend to care for a moment, lighting a match on my teeth.

I don't need no drugs to calm me.
I pretend you don't make me sick. I pretend this isn't some kicked puppy ****. I stare at a weakness that swallows itself whole and then swallows itself again in the eyes, sizing it up, and erasing it with 3 grams of ****. Sedate yourself in your closet for a few hours, hide beneath six layers of clothes and clean fingernails and I love you's and pretend you're ever there for me. *******, how dare you be a normal ******* teenage when I'm sitting here rotting into the floorboards? My eyes are just puddles and my hands are still wrapped around your ankles. You don't need me. You don't need anything. You'll **** yourself slowly all on your own until you're someone entirely different, someone entirely yourself and you.

I have seen the writing on the wall.
I pretend like I don't think that me running a bullet through my hot, tired brain is an inevitable thing. I pretend like I won't lose my mind down the shower drain and unzip all my veins like a child's jacket, watching the blood trickle down me like rain on a window pane. I pretend like anything anyone says is really true, that I'm *really capable of living, that I'm really not too sick to ever be normal. I watch myself fall under the tar, sink into the roadkill, mold into the fluid marks under a raccoon, it's mask ripped off and teeth poking through its nose, carrion smacking the air with rolling guts in the summer breeze. I cook myself in the sun, let the deer's belly swell around me, I make my home in its smashed ribs. I pretend like it won't end like this.

Don't think I need anything at all.
I take a razor to my stomach, watch the fat peel open and burst like canyons. I tear it out with my bare hands, thick, tepid, organic. I lay it across the floor and throw up all the pills in order. I count them out, and lay each with a separate suicide note and not in any of them, do I say my name.

No don't think I'll need anything at all.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.
This isn't right anymore. I won't say anything anymore.

*All in all you were just bricks in the wall.

I am but a hopeless soul
Drifting in the sea
Of all my tears
From heartache
And painful moments
Why does this have to be
I want to know what love feels like
I want to find a man I trust
While he also trusts me
For I am but a hopeless soul
Drifting in the sea...

I feel powerless,
Stupid;
Like a *****,
Like a fool.

I feel hopeless,
Helpless;
Like a burden,
Like a disappointment.

I feel awful,
Tired;
Like I want to slip
Away into the endless oblivion.

Let's be honest here,
you might be hurt now or your feelings might borderline on hate
but when he texts you next monday, when people are starting to get ready for bed
you will answer his 'wanna come over?'
with 'sure' and 'im on my way'
and it would be okay, because baby girl you need this
you need something to look forward to,
so that tomorrow wouldn't seem like a bad idea and to make light a little more bearable.

But after please,
do not long to stay,
do not long to sleep on his bed or to have his arms wrapped around you,
and do not steal kisses from him after *******
because it would make you hope for something definite.
For him you will always just be a bed warmer
your number on his phone would never have a name
he might burn you with his kisses
but behind those lips is lust and nothing more

if you hope sweet girl your heart will be vulnerable to his charming smiles and his comforting scent
you will fall over the same dark cliff
with the same cold ground catching you

love, your wounds are still fresh
your bones are yet to heal
he is not a replacement
he's just something you need
to remove the remaining traces of the past from your skin

please do not give another man power over you

instead gather your abandoned clothes on his floor and walk straight to his door and thank him, you might not be coming back next time.

I'm depressed and deflated because it seems like it's either to lose or get shot is why we were created
Idve remained encouraged but this point can no longer be debated
How are you going to stop someone who doesn't even see a future staring them in the face misplaced patriotism stops you from seeing the tears and hopelessness on our faces that's written
Despair in the air because no one not even ourselves can find the strength to care optimism is a long lost memory
And even then our memories aren't pleasant by any means it seems all we are are muscular commodities fit for athletic endorsements and earning people but ourselves money but we can't use a platform because it would he like trying to preach to Vincent Van Gogh

I'm writing all of this from my perspective you know