when a storm's expected
the whirling power of silence
takes over me
and I cannot do a single
thing, but watch;
observe
how the tornado gets
swiped off by
a heartbreak

I feel tingling in my chest
I feel like the big
nothing is smothering me
silent hands
going up, against
my neck
softly following the line
of life and death

the flowers turn into stone
and I am completely torn
apart

nothing
I could do
but simply stand

and watch

It feels like a trial.
Like everyone knows you're guilty
And yet they still want to hear you defend yourself
Because they still want to know
For whatever reason

"Do you like your pain?", They ask.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"So all of this... is what you want. Like you don't even want to get better."

"No."

"Why do you keep feeling sorry for yourself? You know it's not getting you anywhere."

"Yeah. I do know that. But I don't know how to get out of it."

"It's so easy."

"You can't possibly know how difficult this has been for me. For 4 months --"

"Stop making excuses, whether or not you spent the last 4 months feeling like **** doesn't mean a **** thing. You did that all on your own. And yet you are refusing help."

"Because I still believe I can do this myself."

"And how well has that worked?"

"Please stop."

"Should we call a witness?"

"NO. Please no. I'm begging you."

The whole court stares at me
The witnesses are in sight, waiting to place the blame on somebody...anybody

I can hear thunder outside the courthouse.
It's about time we had a storm.

"Please don't call a witness.
I can tell you everything
And you'll know that it's true because nobody will object saying that I'm wrong. This isn't that kind of case.
But they do not need to answer for my crimes, nobody here does except for me. The person who committed those crimes. Justice... right?"

I have told this story so many times

I might as well start crying again

I feel like the witnesses won't even defend me. I don't give them a reason to
I don't even say their names
Even if I keep someone anonymous
The truth will come out
And everyone will know

But it won't solve anything
And I will continue to feel like I'll never be happy
Because this trial... has changed my life
I guess it still is
Because it doesn't feel like I've even left the stand.

Nothing in particular
Just high
Addicted ****** ****

**** my liver
Kidneys
Dissociation is the key

I've spotted the freight train
Have I made it?

Bring me there I beg you
Spoon me
Me, the spoon, all me

Drink DRINK like a FISH

pop pop pass percocet
C-c-c-c-c-cocaaaaiiinneeeeee

***** ****** bored, dumb

**** my LIVER AND KIDNEYS
Dolla dolla nose job **** a stuffy
**** me on a tuesday, sneez sick puppy horsey

Cant finde me
Kant fine me

Run run run run run baby, yes ya do
Explain but not excuse

Substitute kkkills as much
Methadopamine or a xany ***** one night
Dextrahydraphetamine, ketamine meta-clean

Don't try. Understand to
Completely

Every spring runs dry
       **** son, 'least enjoy the high

i haven't met someone who made me want
to write so badly
in a long, long time

this morning i woke
the same way you did
lonely never
in a box i have made my home

you go by with your day like you always do
holding onto what is innocent
and smiling sweetly at those who pass by
you don't say hi unless they do
you timidity is showing, dear
it's so awkward on me
but endearing on you

we both are fragile extension lines
on the streets
that taper and adjust
to whatever the winds may bring

this night you wore a sweater
and i stayed up a little later only to see
if the off chance of you stopping by
would stop by

it's a quarter past
Cinderella losing her glass slipper
and my priorities are exponential
yet all the encompasses my mind
is your kindness
and how it glows in the dark

i hunger for answers
although we both may be soft-spoken
i wouldn't mind the screaming
as long as it had meaning
as long as it mended to the broken

but you are older
and wiser and smarter
and more experienced
than my little heart is

still i ask, where would this take us if it could?

i ask God to hear me breathing
to hear my singing
and wondering

if i am breathing, there is no time to waste
if i am singing, then i am on my way
to something beautiful and grand and new
and if it is in His plan, then it will be you

all this is simple mush
fluff in its raw form
half of the time i don't even know
exactly what it is i am trying to convey
it isn't something that we have to say
it is silent but it is recognized
for you said it all with your eyes

slowly falling i am
drooping to the middle
and climbing uphill again
until my cup fills again
it won't be half empty for too long

after all,
we both are fragile extension lines
on the streets
that taper and adjust
to whatever the winds may bring

i’ve run out of words to say,
you know,
i am wrung dry of poetry,
heart just a little too buried.
see, instead, everything is just

heavy, heavy, heavy.

all closed-up throat and dragging feet and burning eyes.
building under collapse,
empty tank of gas,
edges too rusted for use.

and still—
still. the heart shakes.
beats wildly.
(like hummingbird wings)
the eyes gone empty,
but stay open. awake.
(owls in the night)

look. await me.
i can stay alive for another morning.

I started to stare up at the pale blue sky
Allowing the clouds to help care for the shards of my mind
And as the green grass tickled my skin, back into the dilemma I'm facing my thoughts went back within
The breeze gently kissed my face as the smile transformed from a grin to a grimace
I started off so well and fell back into overthinking like a man imprisoned

So I guess I should let my thoughts fly as I stare at the sky and let my instincts take over

If I had something inspiring on my mind don't you think that I would've written it by now
I love being a writer but sometimes it gets me down
The pressure escalates like the water in the everglades to top myself, like pulling miracles out of my head is a miraculous act
I can't turn water into wine And I can't turn stacks of hay into clever punchlines
I guess what I'm trying to say, like Dr. Mccoy  is that I'm a writer not a magician
I can only take what myself and others have gone through, and turn it into something relatable, that maybe just maybe someone will take something positive out of what was written

i..

Write poetry that doesn't deserve to be written in ink.

i..

Dream about things that i know won't happen but still hope.

i..

Don't see my future at all even though i talk about it all the time.

i..

Hold my breathe every night before i go to sleep until i see black spots and act like i see the corner of death.

i..

Am aware that the only thing i am so sure about makes me terrified.

i..

Never been so scared.

i..

Never been so accepting.

i..

Never been so found and lost at the same time.

i..

Continue to act to some people's eyes.

i..

Don't know.