"What's wrong?" She asks. Spoken simply, for its a simple thing to say. I didn't get much sleep last night. My brain was putting up a fight. Tossing and turning for hours on end, pretending to be unaware of the sun peaking over the horizon.

I haven't had much of an appetite. Sure I attempt to eat what I'm able, but it never sits well. I may ***** it up but time will tell.

My thoughts move too fast, sometimes I forget when to laugh. It's hard to know how much is real cuz everyone thinks it's an act. But it's real, everything I feel in my head and my heart, and the whispers and the shouts, reality fading and freaking me out.

I don't think I can cope with all of my madness, i lay gasping for breath, with feelings of death clutching my chest. I'm not sure how much time I have left.

I haven't left my room in a week, my body feels weak, I can barely stand on my feet. Maybe it's from too little to eat or not enough sleep. Sometimes I will my heart not to beat. So many thoughts fill up my head that I realize I forgot to speak.
"Nothing, I'm fine" I manage the squeak.

I'm in control of my thoughts
But that doesn't mean
I have control of the reins.

You might be steering the horse
But you're not the one that decides
Whether it will listen,
If things will run smoothly
Or you'll be thrown off.

That's how my brain gets sometimes
It charges wherever it wants
And I have to hold on tight.

I'll pack everything up,
Crawl into bed
And latch on.

l.v.s

the only time
i have ever felt calm
is in the presence of pain.

it laps at my brain
and takes over my body
as i cannot feel anymore

there are times that i adore
the excuse to tuck myself away
as i am washed into a darkness

the world never sits on the same axis
when my soul tries to stitch itself back together
after it splits under too much pressure

i used to imagine that u could breathe under water
as i could make up for when i felt so much weaker
in the atmosphere that waited above me

all my effort strengthened my need to be carefree
but i knew my work would always lead
to my visits to my mind’s coroner

i allow my whole self to wander
finding pseudo relief in jumping to conclusions and off cliffs in my mind
only to find real solace just when my thoughts stop

i have memorized the reactions of when my face drops
and a quiet captures my mind
because it scares me, too

my calmness it different to you
i’ve seen this my whole life
as when i hurt, at first, no one seemed to see

but later, i saw how different pain was for the mind and body
for everyone else it was so separate
but i felt them as if they were alive inside me

migraines that felt like a caged animal trying to break free
my skull shattered as my body overheated
mind and body desperately trying to reject something unknown

it was at these times that i would lay prone
pondered at the ceiling with thoughts
that were so irrational they became logical

there was were my self would dull
my soul turns inside out and i relish
in the nothingness that is sure to come

my body wakes with a rejuvenated thrum
and i start the story all over again
and i stare through once calm waters to see myself for what feels like the first time.

I overthink,
It's a regular process,
I overthink,
Is it more than just a regular process?

I overthink,
That it is common,
I overthink,
Too much for myself.

I overthink,
I can barely help,
The wounds on my hands,
prove me wrong.

I overthink,
yet this is not mirage,
This is reality,
So this is not thought.

This is not overthinking,
this is true,
It's not me who is overthinking,
It's you.

The best poems are all about
loss and pain and suffering.
It feels more natural to write a poem
about a long lost memory,
Or a love that never worked.

Poets aren't allowed to be happy.
They’d run out of material to write about.

The words
content and happy
in the same sentence as the word
I'm,
feels like your tongue
never sitting right in your mouth,
like teeth getting in the way
when making out
like an itchy throat,
not going away even after coughing a fit.

The phrases
You are and my boyfriend
can't be a real sentence
like how
unicorns and fairytales
don't exist.
They just feel like
two jigsaw pieces
from different parts of the puzzle
forced to sit beside each other.

The word love
just doesn’t resonate
with the beat of my heart.
Maybe because
my heart stopped beating
a long time ago
and my brain had to carry the workload
so I think twice as much as I should
synonyms?
I overthink.

I may be the only poet
who doesn’t want to be happy;
a ******* clinging to heartbreak,
and loss and pain and suffering.
because it’s easier to let heartbreak
wrap myself in its familiar arms
than to experience an adventure
with happiness wrapped in mine.