I. Just. Can't. Think.
I'm on the brink
As I blink
I  let her go and I sink

As I put up my guard
I'll rust like the bars on my heart
Let them tear me apart
Just leave me in the yard

I never knew your love was fake
So today I shake
You've shown me the strength that it takes
To cause an earthquake

feel the burning in your head
feel the burning in your lungs
feel the burning in the heart
and the hurt that makes you start

see the white on your arms
and the creases of your palms.

trace the lines of regret. the small sting of
control.
spite.

silent thunder.

everything is anger.
you are anger.
everything is fire.
but you are even worse. the silent dark.

feel the snake rise up in your stomach
to your chest. blood flows down
into the abyss, iron tang
and black shine.

it's always your fault, they say. the way you present,
the who that you embody,
the tone you project,
the everything.
the coarse words scraping around
in your lungs.
(they're actually screams.)

search for red, red but only
find black, black.

ink.

fade,

but not away.

Will I ever love again?
Or be afraid to fall .. all the love is in me and I give it to myself but to keep holding back how I feel in case of a mishap I wonder if I’m safer that way
I know myself and I know I can get attached easily so In order to protect myself I have to detach a bit not get my heart fully involved if the person can’t commit. I always know what I’m capable of and I don’t know about others . I’m still young and I’m still learning ..

i stopped writing.

not because i don’t want to.

it’s because i couldn’t.

i couldn’t bear the fact that i would have to feel pain and sadness all over again to write something only a few people would understand.

i couldn’t find the exact words. the right sentence. the perfect way to say the emotion i want to show, ending up saying more than the thought itself.

i couldn’t face an empty screen with the line continuously blinking as if begging me to release the letters out of it — teasing it constantly knowing i would just stare at it and close my phone afterwards.

i couldn’t find the right moment to write. and when i thought it was, i just end up thinking about all my “i couldn’t”s never finishing anything i write.

it’s so easy to say, “just write. it’ll come to you soon enough” but little do those people know it’s as hard as it gets.

one day, i write something amazing. amazing to me at least. and the next day, you don’t write anything at all — scared to create a new one that’ll forget the existence of the previous one.

i stopped writing.

but i keep imagining.

writing on my head but never putting them into words. locking them up as safe as possible inside my head where only i could reach. only i could appreciate. only i could admire.

i keep them.

and if one day,

if i get the strength to stop saying “i couldn’t”

i know it’ll all make sense.

but for now,

i’ll have to stop writing.

i am, therefore i am a to be
but to be what?
to be what, i ask?
i am a to be, and to be a to be means i am a will be
but will be what?
what will i be?
and if i am to be a will be, i will have to have been a won't be
what have i not been if not being?
and if i am both a will be and a won't be, i will have to have been a never be
what will i never be?
what will i never have been?
because i am a will be and am to be a have been
and a haven't been
and a have done
and a haven't done
what have i if not to be and to have been?
i am, therefore i am a to be
what am i but a to be to be forgotten?