Sometimes
I write
And then leave
Unfinished portions
Unable to trace back to the thought
Weaving in new
Words sewn together
Unknown the patterns
The words blink
Pause
Then stick to each other
As they always do
Trying to make sense to themselves
And whoever reads
The thoughts
Of irregular patterns
In sync with mystery
To the writer and words...

I am not a happy ending
I am not true love
Sadly I’m a phase
A siren who has come from above
I do not yet know what love is
Do not expect me to give it
For I am not a soulmate
I am not love.

People assume I’m happy when I do not cry

Assume I’m sad without a smile

Some say I’m lonely, but I prefer comfortable

Others say I’m comforted yet I am alone

Don’t assume.

don't wanna be
loveless
just wanna
love less

I love being distracted.
It is the only bubble of feeling in which I can't focus on my imperfections.
It's the only time where I can forget about life's lemons, and forget that I have to labor to make lemonade out of them.
But from my living room, every 15 minutes I can hear the clock chime.
It reminds me that everything comes to an end.
In a way, this makes me feel good. It reminds me that eventually all of the work I have to do will be done. It reminds me that all of my worries will eventually conclude.
But it also reminds me that everything good ends. It reminds me that strong connections to other people could eventually break. It reminds me that I may have to see the day where pets and loved ones cease to exist.
It reminds me that one day I will cease to exist.

as long as i hold in the sting,
& my eyes don't betray my smile,
as long as i don't say the wrong thing,
this will make it all worthwhile.

i assure you, there is no depth,
nothing but a mannequin in disguise,
what you see, what you get,
only blankness behind the eyes.

painting these cell bars pink,
trading reality for daydreams,
stubbornly refusing to stop & think,
unless it's in extremes.

will this hollowness continue to grow?
can i escape the apathetic nightmare?
i don't ever really know,
& i don't seem to really care.

It's up to you what's wrong or right.
It's up to you whether you want to fight or go quietly into the night.
It's up to you whether you want to take this life by the *****
or fall in line behind the wall.
This is your life.
Your body.
You have the power to choose.
Whatever you decide,
it's up to you