Reece means enthusiasm,
Enthusiasm I rarely feel.
When it comes to most things,
The emotion is fear.
I wonder if it is a coincidence,
Why, I am named this name.
Or if there’s a reason,
Why, I think this way.
For something to entice me,
It better be something really good.
Most things that look like
Fun I don’t like to do
And I get misunderstood.
Sports sounds just awful,
Something I wouldn’t enjoy
I’m not much of a competitor,
They are just a lot of noise.
I don’t say what’s on my mind,
As often as I should, for
Fear of being misunderstood.
But writing, oh writing,
It’s easier to put down
What I think, Me,
Reece Ellison, the anxious
Boy with a world inside his head.
Huh, I guess there is some
Enthusiasm hidden deep down
After all…

I hear your hollow compliment,
no gilded chains will bind me, see?  
Respect my strength;
Please, don’t patronise me.

©️Lizzie Bevis

I feel so empty
Nothing is real
People say it's not that big of a deal
But it is
It's something you cannot miss
It lives with me everyday
It feels like a fever dream everyday
It's hard to live with
People may think it's a myth
It's really not
It's just like a knot
It's annoying
It's overwhelming

It often makes me wanna cry
But sometimes makes me want to die
It often leaves me questioning if life is real or not
It makes my brain form into a knot
It's so confusing
It's so overwhelming
I can never ground myself
I don't know how to cope with myself

The "fever dream" makes life so cloudy
It almost makes me look lousy, or drowsy
It makes me think if I'm high or drunk
Or if my body was in a trunk
It's like I have a 0.5x filter constantly running
It feels like after I got done hyperventilating

Is this a poor way of my body coping?
From all the groping?
From all the manipulation?
From all the exploitation?

It burns it hurts It hits
My head of bitterness My mind of ressentiment
I want to destroy break and ******
Rip those apart Who stand
Stand for my hurt My wounds
Let them Die Let them burn
May they suffer Like Pigs and Monkeys
Swallowed by the Earth
Not like they did anything wrong But they choose to live
Why must they Live Why must They be
Be and hurt me
What did They do to me I suffer Suffer and burn
I wish to burn I wish them to Burn
Burn like Monkeys and Dogs End

Me pondría las botas
con ***** de acero, llenas de lodo
para machacarte la cabeza contra el cemento
Y finalmente exhalar
el humo que me metiste y aún cargo dentro

Porque sé que me dirías que en vez de saltarte encima debería patearte
Porque arriba de ti no causo daño
Ya me lo decías tú

Quisiera agarrarte del pelo
Arrancarte el cuero cabelludo como peluca de ortiga
Atarte a un poste de luz en un callejón oscuro
Azotarte con tu pelo y cubrirte de tu propia caspa

Deslizar la navaja para abrirte una sonrisa
Aunque no soportaría tus gritos, solo por eso no lo haría.

Exprimirte las manos sudorosas
Y ensanchar el mar de distancia entre tu padre y tú

Ya calva, te arrastraría al barrio
para condenarte a trabajar de cajera
Y a no conocer a nadie que guste del arte
el resto de tu mugrosa vida.

You were my entire night sky
Now I drive home in the dark without looking up

The songs that reminded me of you still play on the radio
But I don't think of that summer in the city when I hear them anymore

I fell in love again
And I want to tell you I hate it because it's not the same
It never could be

Seasons change and so did we
I'm better now in some ways but without you feels worse

And I wonder if you feel the same

Do you really know me like you say you do?
I don't like existing in memories of others when I cannot remember my own.
You can't possibly remember me.

It makes me so angry when you tell me that,
angry that I can't verify it,
angry that those ideas of me still linger,
angry that my past exists at all.

I want to purge this dissociative self
I used to be from all consciousness,
and it isn't fair that you can still remember her.

I am so mad that you can compare me now to me before
and that you can clearly recollect all the signs.
I am so envious that I couldn't have seen the signs myself when it was happening and that I still can't now.

I envy the way you can tip your sight backward to how I was before and that you can see the progress.
I want to see it too.

I am so angry
and this feeling burns my throat
when you remind me of what you know.

Why did I think you could cure
all the aches and pains
I had held for years and more,
when you were never my remedy?

Every dose I took
was another ******* placebo,
and you'd have thought
I could tell this treatment wasn't working for me.