I know it is me.
It is my fault.
I loved you so hard, for so long.
But I've known.
There is another one.
Another person,
Who is making you feel better.
More than I could.
If I was home right now
Then the only thing that was home,
Was my body.
My life doesn't have a purpose anymore.
How did I get so fuckt up.
****
I wanna talk
But I know
That I won't control myself.
So that's why I stare at te white wall infront of me.
No emotions
Just me
But who is me?
That's a question that no one can answer.

little black shorts latched
onto legs thats stumble
as they walk
those legs are at a loss for feeling
numb, and the girl can feel her arms slightly more

hands out, car door open, legs in

little brown paper latched onto hands that tremble
as their fingers shift
on his own lap
those hands are numb
and the boy can feel his feet slightly more

lighter out, paper lit, smoke in

little black shorts catch ash and soot as she grows more and more numb
every body part
just short of defying gravity everything physically numb floating
except for emotions

exhale in, exhale out, pass

little brown paper
fizzled out in hands
that no longer knew
the difference between reality and dreams everything physically numb
except emotions

little black shorts unzip trembling hands move in
a longing to be numb floats between the two

You are the one that taught me to become heartless, then you got upset because that means I became heartless when it came to you too.
e.g

what is a real friend?
my definition...a real friend is a person that doesn't exist because half the people around us would exit like Bruce Jenners **** and become non existent, during crisis.
i know it must be hard to digest like Donald Trump going into office...think about it, the ******* is busy banning muslim's, yet if you ask me, he would be the only terrorist i see, in a mosque full of Osama Bin Ladin's. wait how did i get here

5/23/17

i don't need to know where you were
or why you were
you're capable
and i'm unhinged
so i bite my tongue
while slowly unraveling
a silk ribbon
expecting to be gracious
and instead leaving
finite and forgotten
yet it's so wildly enticing
i can't keep mind off it
just like you
you were a weightless breeze  
gliding the timeline with intent
to sanctify the hollows
where our souls are supposed to be
an immovable statue
an immaculate picture
for whom i must convince myself
that control is okay
so the tables can turn

it's hot coffee and warm paper cup steam
and illegible tattoos without a theme
it's late night eyes and restless hours
and cheap notebook paper towers

it's sleeping until noon and arriving late
because of weekday parties that couldn't wait
it's worn out chucks and shirts with holes
based in a religious background and thrift shop clothes

it's community cups and feet without shoes
seen by long eyelashes and the color blue
it's ink rubbing off on freckled hands
from crumpled papers thrown in trash cans

it's an improbable dynamic and an impossible feat
because of barely-earned titles and grinding teeth
it's the quiet thoughts and midnight dreams
that, come the sunrise, are not even feelings.

Δεν προλάβαμε.
Ήταν τόσο γρήγορο την πρώτη μέρα.
Κάηκαν τα πάντα
και έγιναν στάχτη.
Χάθηκαν πολλές ζωές.
Κλάψαμε, θρυνήσαμε,
αν και κοιτούσαμε από μακριά.
Δεν τρέξαμε να βοηθήσουμε.
Απλώς συμπάσχαμε.
Την επομένη κάηκε ξανα η πόλη.
Οι κραυγές και η μυρωδιά της καμένης σάρκας
έφταναν σ'εμάς.
Μα εμείς απλώς κοιτούσαμε
την κακία των ανθρώπων.
Οι ημέρες περνούσαν γρήγορα
και έφερναν νέους χρόνους.
Κάθε βράδυ καιγόταν η πόλη
και εμείς είχαμε συνιθήσει
την κατάσταση.
Όλα φαίνονταν τόσο γνώριμα.
Τίποτα το καινούργιο.
Γυρνούσαμε απλώς την πλάτη.
Και όλα αυτά μέχρι σήμερα
που η φωτιά και το μαχαίρι έφτασε σ'εμάς.
Μα ήταν πολύ αργά για να αντιδράσουμε
σε αυτά τα απάνθρωπα πραγματα
και τώρα περιμένουμε με τη σειρά μας
να νιώσουμε ό, τι ένοιωσαν και εκείνοι που κάηκαν
πριν από εμάς.

This silence is brutally violent
The voices in my head went silent
My thoughts continue to race
They stir no emotion, just empty space
A pulverized heart keeps beating
The thumping in my chest keeps repeating
The wells in my eyes have ran dry
No more tears will be cried
Not a thing to keep me reeling
No emotion, no feelings
I'm afraid I've succumbed
Laying on a bed of thorns, feeling nothing but numb