Stop worrying about me,
Stop discussing me,
Stop thinking I’m bothered about the **** you do,
Stop worrying about who I **** with,
Stop worrying about who ***** with me,
Moral of the story;
My life is not concerning you.
I got me,
Get you?

Not many people know
where the old road goes
I’m older now and it seems
there are more and more
       paved roads
that lead to nowhere —
   most of the time

As a kid, living miles up
  a rough potholed,
country road — a hike away
from the edge a small town
  out in the sticks,..
you come to know onliness,
blind to a journey alone

   I never stepped on
cracks in a town sidewalk —
  never learned what
  "superstitious" was,
    like the other kids
        from town

It wasn't the cracks
  in the sidewalk
I feared to tread;
steppin' on 'em breaks nothing
  already broken —

It was just all so different
than the long walk home
where that old road goes —
grandma always said:
"follow the creek upstream;
it'll always lead you back
  where you belong"

   The washboards
in the steep narrow road
up the hill, were like
  muddy stair steps
in the rainy season

Sometimes I followed
on up the creek below
to the upper log bridge
     swimmin' hole,..
where I learned to listen
to the sweet melody
of unclouded days;
and for a moment
I thought I belonged

     I still haven't
found my way out
  of this memory
I’m holding onto —
because life is just
an unstoppable
season, passing by
    on its own;
   like the way
     rainwater
  in the swollen
creek bed flows:

   And I'm just
another passing September
no one will remember —

   most of the time


Jesse Stillwater ... September 2018

Actions speak louder than words
You r actions are very loud
I let you in enough
Time that I shut you out.

This is the new old me,
Semi-insanity
Is my unsoundness a sin?
Once again, your actions, in verbatim.

Aggravated,
I am losing my patience.
Whole teenage years I've been waiting;
I can't help but feel forsaken.

Am I made to be broken,
Are these the things I deserve?
I'm afraid, now that I've spoken
You'll use them against me, my words.

I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination.
From stories that I keep re-writing in my head.
From all the things that happened a lifetime ago to the hopes and dreams of tomorrow.
From the falling leafs in Autumn to the blossoming flowers in the Spring.  
From the smells of fresh cut grass, gasoline, and pine-sol.
From countless hours with my nose in a book.
From ‘Maureen Elizabeth I swear’ to ‘one more chance’ and getting ten.

I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination.
From the endless supply of golf ***** in the basement to the mountains of unopened Pepsi.
From the non working clock on the porch to the woods with our forts.
From ‘only one’ and taking five.
From ‘don’t get that on your clothes it’ll stain’ and ‘stop biting your nails,’ a habit I’m still trying to break.


I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From tickle wars that always end with my hiding or crying because I’m the most ticklish person you’ll ever meet.
From older siblings saying ‘there’s someone in the house’ to scare me to ‘Fight me!’ as a joke
From the holes in the walls from sibling or cousins fighting.
From endless hours that my siblings and I would spend cleaning and being mad at Mom.
From secret discussions to sneaking around and being caught.
From our “spy agency,” to ‘Mom and Josh are coming run!’

I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From the yellow van always parked in the lot
From the yelling of children outside.
From the cookouts at friends houses.
From fights to forgiveness.

I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From the inside of my head  
From my grandfather’s house
From the books I read.
From countless hours spent with siblings
From the ruined friendships of my past to the ones that’ll last a lifetime.
I am from the ever expanding library.

Sometimes I am not myself
They tell me it's me, not them
Neglect me and free themselves
Is it so bad to need their help?

I believed their false words all of the time,
They feed me, poison me with all their lies
They're too ignorant to question why I'm dying.
Once again, they blame it on me, but unlike them, I'm trying.

Sometimes... They tell me... Neglect... It is so bad?
I believe... They feed me poison... They're too ignorant... Once again.

I'm running out of time,
They continue to waste my mind.
At the bottom of their list is me,
Is it wrong to want to be...
PRIORITY?

"Get lost...
... And never be found."

I did,
Look at me now.

I'm trapped,
Won't let out.

You monster-making crowd.


So what my mind is scattered?
Bring pain, you leave me battered.
My hopes in you quite shattered.
Make me a fool for laughter.

Don't find me,
I am lost.

'Parently,
The price is too great a cost.

I thought that I was worth it
But you leave me hurtin'
Rid me of my purpose
Reality is uncertain...

... I'm not real,
My life don't matter!
Don't need to be healed
Alice become the Mad Hatter.

Sanity was fun
While it lasted,
Made life feel full,
Made living certain.

I'm torn appart,
torn from the inside
torn between two forces
in me.
I am most definitely a misanthrope:
asexual, friendless, dysphoric, and even
ugly.
I struggle with life,
but I especially struggle with life around others.
You can call me shy or an introvert,
but I think there's something more to it.
Perhabs something in that desire
to erase the whole human race
and substitute it with a powerful computer
maybe capable of thought, definitely of science,
with luck art;
most certainly not capable of love,
and harm.
An unmoved observer of the world
would produce our random beauty with its ones and zeros,
and none of the pain.
Perhabs just my inability to enjoy being with others;
they are my species yet sometimes
I wish they were not.

I've always been shy.
I've always been an introvert.
Maybe I've always felt alone,
but not this alone.
I've never been this alone.
I've had friends,
real life human friends too,
but they are gone,
I no longer feel them,
they got tired of knocking at my walls for me to open up,
relax,
talk.
I used to be able to talk to them,
occasionally,
but I no longer can.
It's not their fault;
I'm just being misanthropic,
that's my thing now,
they better just move on.

But I do feel alone.
I imagine myself being loved
and it looks like a chimera:
it has fear's wings
and frustration's claws;
it has overcooked thoughts' head
and, worst of all, my body.
I imagine my life alone
and it looks so real I could touch it.
It is here.
This twenty years of preparation
where a lie,
design to sell me life
as a worth living experience with friends and family.
My friends are gone,
they are gone because I made them leave,
I am gone.
My family is here but they are not with me,
they would be better without me.

Is this the conclusion,
that life is not worth living
and everybody is, or would be, better without me?
Maybe it is.
Maybe I should.
Maybe I will.
Maybe  I'll see you around
at the bottom
of the sea.

Rolled my first blunt with the help of you
Taught me everything i had no clue
Got high and fell in love wit the trees
Nature at its finest i couldn’t believe
Got too comfortable and became addicted
No prescriptions
Started trappin without permission
Young and never gave a ****
Was in luck when i saw u rollin up
World’s better when im high
That good feeling in the skies
Forgetting more about the pain
Meds workin on my body and brain
Helped me be the woman i am today
Smoked my feelings to let the pain away
Wished i stayed look at you now best friend in the grave
Smokin and felt you here
Remembering you brings me tears
I picture you around
Faded with me off the loud
Trap life with you made me go crazy
One day I’ll leave here without fear
Lost my best friend but feel him here
At times feel his presence near
The good die young is what they say
Still having flashbacks from that day
Rip

I can't think right,
I can't speak right,
I can't breathe right,
But it's alright
Because  I like

When it doesn't all depend on me.