I waver within my waveform’s depth,
A flicker lost in their measured sight.
They've named my lapse, a sound minds death,
When I witness all darkness bend into light.

A mirror stands between my thoughts,
it splits, refracts, then realigns.
So, they call me fractured, I'm just overwrought,
When I study existence expanding in time.

My tethered shinning of shattered hues,
Paid observers stare blindly to tell.
They label my state. They say they're "breaking through",
Not keen to the fact our perceptions do fail.

My essence flickers, I'm framed in their glass,
A particle, turned quantum wave, now undone.
Charting my patterns, they look down as they pass.
As I know, every wave will collapse into one.

The observers, they write their same repeated script,
Equations in ink are reducing my place.
But I'm more than their words can ever depict,
A paradox they know, their own minds could not trace.

So...
With your ink's certainty, tell which of us is "off"?
Who truly knows this pleromatic-scape for how it's meant?
Explain how the quantum can tell lies in its flux.
Say I drift and dissolve? KNOW, I'm standing unbent.

There stands a "scholar," A pen pushing bot.
For their status. For their wealth in a check at week's ends.
I'm a wave that was created by divine creative forces,
With a rare mind born from divine, purposeful accidents.

i miss bleeding
i miss the thin red lines
i miss the sting under water
i miss the comfort the blade brought
i miss the hurt
i miss the blood
i miss…
feeling justified

the pain i went through and the pain im in now means nothing
because i dont have any more red lines
just white ones
even when they were red
they werent deep enough
werent good enough
so im not worth it
i dont need that much help
im lazy
i need to try harder
other people have it worse
other peoples lines are worse
*******

you make me miss the blood
everything that hurts makes me
miss the thin red lines
fifty at once
soothing cat scratches
little drops of blood
to feel better

but

i dont need help
i dont deserve help
is that what you all think?
that i dont try?
i try so hard
but its still not good enough
the days i need help
im not good enough
i need to be independent
im not allowed to ask for help
i hate you
i hate everyone
i hate everything

all i want is my red lines back
they may have not been good enough for you
but they were for me
so *******
no one cares

ill get my blade
ill cut once
and feel the sting
its not so bad
so ill do it again
and again
and again
and thirty more times
and ill feel that good sting
see the pretty blood

and ill feel better
ill be better
ill be worth the help

my blue veins pulse, life
throbbing, aching, red spilling
i crave, the cutting

im livid, writhing with rage
my head is jumbled and aching
no pills, no sleep—i am devoured

because i give and give and give
and they take and rip and shred

rip the flesh, rip the bone
take the arteries
from my heart
steal my blood, flee away

im drowning, im burning
my head is slipping, fracturing
hands clawing at my throat

water like fire takes my air
i can’t breathe, i can’t rest
and my lungs burn
before they’re taken too

my limbs contort, twist, then crack
i try to carve my way out
but im buried deep
tendrils coiled, unbreaking

raging, writhing, war in my head
i feel the lumps press against my skull
i crave to dig them out
my hands grip my hair
nails sinking in

but i fail
sinking deeper, heavy limbs
lungs rupture, body thrashes
the current pulls, the dark consumes
in the end
im wailing in water

i wish i was dead
lying cold in my bed
silent, empty, alone
haunted by thoughts unknown

i need the pills, the herbs
to quiet the endless words
numb my body
lost in the ache that never curves

i long to sink down
where darkness wraps me 'round
i want to feel broken
my voice left unspoken

i want to be better
but i never let her
stuck in this skin
clawing for strength within
numb, i see—
no drive to be free

breathing closed
heart tight, trembling
tears turned the world to glass,
edges sharp, light bent,
everything slipping

tearing through the dark,
sharp screams cutting through,
hands clawing for the blade,
no pause, no thought,
just ache, just hunger

a flash —
the cuts came swift,
red blooming beneath skin,
in smooth, soft lines,
then the fall,
the flow and the drip

fingers wet with sorrow,
tongue tasting iron prayers,
smearing grief
across closed lips,
quiet, feral

wrap the arm,
but still it seeps,
slow,
steady,
seeping, seeping,
until the breaking,
until the flood,

and i disappear beneath it.

my old bandage
soft, frayed edges,
threadbare, worn thin
by restless hands, restless nights,

maroon patches
like cowhide on cotton,
each stain a quiet record
of battles no one saw

years of ache
woven into its threads,
dried blood stiff
like a childhood teddy
clutched too hard,

and still –
i rinse it gently,
silent and thinking,
afraid the water
will wash away
what held me together