There’s nothing there anymore
Empty space
A neck without a head

I remember how you taught me to tie my tongue
Or maybe I taught myself
Doesn’t matter

I just wanted to fill the space
So we made nooses on our deathbed
I caught your breath and framed it
‘Holly blooming’
Before asphyxiating

Never did pick up my head from your apartment
You’ve probably moved away
Shifted flesh and become someone else

Doesn’t matter
Never did

I sit up at night and wonder,

Was it worth it?


Of one thing I'm sure,

It wasn't and I feel like ****.

i think a part of me will
always love being six years old—
love being tiny, unassuming, cold
in my reactions, bowled
over by my peers, told
to be bigger, brighter, better.

i am largely the same now—
but i am no longer six.

no one tells me to
become any bigger
or brighter or better,
being small means being
crushed, and if i am
overlooked, no one cares.

if i were six, this
would sadden me.
but i am no longer six,
i no longer care,
and i am alone in my
acquired apathy.

The devil carves his name into my skin
The blood reads: *disgusting

The days go on, the nights get longer.
She can’t keep fighting, they’re getting stronger.
The thoughts are sinister, they keep her awake.
They’re taking her life, for goodness sake.
Do you see what’s happening? She’s fading away.
The thoughts are powerful and leading her astray.
The days go on, the nights get darker.
The demons are growing and becoming smarter.
This girl is dying, she’s mentally weak.
Her moods are low and never to peak.
She can’t live like this, so let her die.
It’s her time to go and say goodbye.

i could have done something different
i could have done something better
i could have helped you
i could have saved you
i could have taken your pain
worn it on my shoulders
and took your burdens for you
i could have wiped your tears away
poured the ***** down the drain
locked up the shotgun
and sang you to sleep
only in the morning you would still be there

i could have done something different
i could have done something better
i could have been there for you
i could have fixed what made you hurt
and made you forget about it
i could have held your hand
let you cry to me
soothed your aching heart with comforting words
and taken you away from everything
that changed you
maybe if i did
you would still be here

the same mistakes of idleness
and the same outcome
the same sharp sorrow and tortuous guilt
the same irreplaceable loss that i couldn’t stop

the same **** words that float in my head
enough times that i convince myself they’re true
i could have done something different
i could have done something better
and because i didn’t
i’m the only one left to tell myself that

you can’t feel regret with a bullet through your head
you can’t wake up to the smell of stale *****
or see FAILURE printed on your forehead in the mirror
or hear your own thoughts that seem to be in such greater quantities than everyone else’s

it’s the best solution for a hangover
the cure for the worst headaches
an end to all thoughts that seem to be in direct contact with whatever makes your stomach twist
            your chest tighten
            your palms sweat
            your eyes well up

the list of pros and cons is dramatically lopsided
force yourself not to think of the look in her eyes when she sees you every other weekend
block out the sound of their laughter when it’s 3am and no one can sleep
put blinders on: see tomorrow
                          see the day after
                          see disappointment and regret and broken bottles
                          because sometimes you stumble

only then will you be able to give yourself the right answer
when you ask, “would that be so hard to walk away from?”

mediocrity isn’t
something to be strived for
and being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure

it’s heavier than any weight
that could be strapped to your back,
larger than any expectations
you delude yourself into thinking you must meet
emptiness fills
more than you would think

your feeble body on the ground
stirs no pity in me
i hope the steel-toed boots
striking you from every direction
leave bruises that last
i hope the stench of your rotting flesh
gags you and brings up the lack
of what you hold inside
i hope old scabs are ripped open again
and your hands lay weak by your side
unable to stop the flow of blood

let me hear you say that you are nothing,
           that you have nothing valuable to offer
let me hear you say that you are a waste of space,
            an unwanted burden
let me hear you cry and plead for an end,
            although you don’t deserve that escape

i want to hear you say that you’re a murderer

i want you to go back:
             look into his eyes
             watch them dilate with fear
             and then see the light leave them

             feel his blood on your hands
             leaving a permanent mark
             that doesn’t wash off under water

             feel his body turn cold
             as the life inside him stops
             with his heartbeat

your sniveling apologies do nothing
but turn my stomach over
don’t touch me,
i don’t care if the blood is gone

being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
i hope you never get away
from that weight

It seems a bit familiar
This feeling
And expected
Even though I didn't see it coming
But what more can I do?

And what better place to compose poetry
Than behind the wheel of a ****** car
Going twice the speed limit
And half off road

And what better way
To celebrate
The scars
And the fact that God won again
Than to cry tears without feeling
Anything at all?

How can I even be mad?  
You cried, too.
Less, but that's given -
That I expected
Not that I expected anything at all.

But what about Thanksgiving?
What about the place set for you?
And that date to Barnes and Noble
I asked you on months ago?
Who am I kidding, that wouldn't have happened
I only remember it all now
Kissing in the rain
Baking cookies
That money she owed you
Bringing you hot chocolate on the first day it snowed
The way your hips moved against mine
How ecstatic  you made me
And the way I thought I could make you happy too
And the way you seemed happy, in the apple orchard
And when we held each other under the fireworks
On our first date
And that time we talked about the universe and philosophy
And how excited you seemed
That you found someone who understood
Another INTP
A lover worth giving your body to,
Your mind,
Your soul,
Being one with.

I must've imagined it.
I'm crazy, after all.