I am but a prisoner to your affections
I am:
Self Shackled
Noose Tied
Hanging on to your every word.

I dare not speak,
For when I do,
Rivers of rot,
Spill out unto you.

here i sit
here i stay
here i will cry
til i slowly waste away
if to breathe is to drown
to drown is to sing
a drug that can ****
can heal a king
here she sits
here she stays
here she will cry
til she slowly wastes away
if to crawl is to sink
to sink is to fly
a man that loves god
can hate his own life
here he sits
here he stays
here he will cry
til he slowly wastes away

Often the words “I’m fine” slip from my mouth. I can no longer tell if I actually feel this way or if it is just a sense of numbness in my body and I don’t want those around me worrying about me. My problems have never mattered much to anyone. I’ve always felt alone in the way I am feeling and I know it sounds cliche but the way people respond when I tell them this is even more so. They tell me “You’re not the only one feeling this way”, “Don’t complain someone else has it worse” or my favorite of all “I am here for you”. Very seldom are people actually there for me. They may say they are, they might actually surprise me and make the effort once and be there for me but never is it a continuous feeling of someone being there for me. My life has been complete trash for the past year. My mental health is getting worse and worse and my depression is spreading to all corners of my body. It’s like I’ve been diagnosed with a cancer you can’t see, Except for mine is not physical it is mental.  I hurt constantly. I smile and I believe I am happy but after a while the smile fades and like a rush of wind my thoughts come back to me. I think of everything I did that day and all of the embarrassing things I did. Wishing, Hoping, praying I could take those things away but what’s done is done. I can’t take away all of the embarrassing and gut wrenching things I did that day. The way I think and the way I act is probably the reason why I don’t have any real friends around me anymore. The only friend I ever wanted to be around moved and now I am alone. I hate the new people I hang around. I like my friends from work but I they’re always busy and I know one day I will never see them either. I will barely be a blip in the minds of the people I know now in the future and some people might find that terrifying but I find peace in it. I don’t have to be here and people would be okay. I am not needed, I make no difference in people's lives and I am content with that. I could say “***** off” to the entire earth and no one would even be affected by it. And I find complete and total peace in that. Even if feeling lonely rips my body to pieces, at least I am finally numb to it.

I said a few stupid things

Like, incredibly stupid.

So stupid, in fact, that I wish I never said it in the first place.

I have this condition

It’s called spouting bullshite disease.

And it affects the people around me when it gets triggered.

how do you start a
poem
it's been so
long

i remember how to let
the colors do the talking
textural inflections of
what's internal

except i have a hard
time expressing pain
and sadness in color
because i love colors

and that has left me
with a lot of ends i
can't weave in so
now i'm trying to
remember how to
write a poem

guess i should
start like this

For if I had to choose
I would choose to think you were a coward
A coward to up and run
Because I so badly want to believe in the notion called love
Something I have believed in for so long
But it begins to fade as I desperately try to grasp it
As fragments of it remain
I try to crush it in anger
I begin hating my ridiculous beliefs
I always said you saved me from myself
You just picked me up
I tripped over my notion of love
****** bruises and scars that will remain
As you just dust off and walk away
Time heals everything you say
I tear myself apart, ripping through the wounds
Punishing myself for my stupidity
Falling for the notion of love
This relationship but had a timestamp
You were just meant to be a refreshing chapter, I will convince myself
Because I am scared I might not believe in love again.

Ford and folded to the river bloated.
For whom should we give thanks that our liver floated?
I'll bet three shanks that we'll hit the banks of the gold coast before we'll ever be able to afford it.

The odds aren't in our favor.
Cashed out and half-cocked but still fully loaded.
Goaded into a rhino's bargain for a goat whose milk has already been exploited.

I told you this was a bad idea.