#unhealthy
The wind can attest,
the moon can sign in,
the rain can fall—eyewitness.
This sick love within us is colossal.
We understand each other
like prophecy, synchronised like twins.
We bond like children,
we fight like cousins.
Whatever storm may come,
whatever volcano may erupt
nothing stands between us.
We are solid as granite,
pure as oxygen… yet
our love is bigger than us.
Too stubborn to maintain,
too toxic for our emotions,
too complex for our spirits,
too dark for our souls.
Too hot to handle,
too cold to keep.
As much as we love each other
we could **** for each other,
we could die for each other…
we could even **** each other.
This love is extraordinary
scientifically unexplainable,
and perhaps…
never meant for humans.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 10:10 AM UTC
I am ****** out of my brain
The jolting shock of the cold electrifies me
It races throughout my body
It clutches my heart tight and twists my lungs
I am pulled away like a limp body from a freezing river
I cannot smell anything
My vision is blurred ever so slightly
And i see your face
Am I dead?
No
I am
ALIVE
ALIVE
ALIVE
At last
Dec 15, 2025
Dec 15, 2025 at 4:46 PM UTC
I’m stuck on a screen
“It’s always the phone” the adults say
I mean are they wrong?
I am always on it
I look around my room my mother complains isn’t “clean”
I was up scrolling till 2 in the morning yesterday
I mean has it really been the phone all along?
All it encourages me to do is quit
Have I finally “matured” enough to realize it’s making my mind a sick green?
I look around my room from the bed I lay
Is it the phone that makes me feel like I don’t belong?
That throws me inside a pit?
Oct 8, 2025
Oct 8, 2025 at 5:33 PM UTC
Tu manges mon cour, le sucre t'attire et je suis diabétique
Mais, je continuerai à t'aimer jusqu'à ce que
la terre cesse de tourner et que les étoiles tombent de notre ciel
Je ne peux pas vous oublier Parce que Je ne veux pas.
Aug 29, 2025
Aug 29, 2025 at 10:48 AM UTC
I refused
To listen to friends and family
Who warned me what will come
I refused
To look at the signs and flags
That told me to go back
I refused
To make boundaries and lines
Out of self-respect
I refused
To stand tall and put my foot down
When I kept getting hurt
I refused
To give up what we have
Even though you were long gone
I refused
To allow myself to process
To let myself break down
I refused
Even though time has passed
And the pain settled in
I refused
Despite all the heartbreak and pain
To stop loving you
Jul 30, 2025
Jul 30, 2025 at 9:54 AM UTC
Addiction, Obsession
I don't know the difference
Nor do I really care
You're so toxic
Yet here I am
Asking for more
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 9:49 AM UTC
I want you holy in your ruin,
with the cracks still open,
so I can crawl inside and live there.
Come back crowned in all the pain you’ve earned.
I will not flinch.
I will anoint your scars with my tongue,
light candles in the hollow of your ribs,
and worship whatever’s left of you.
I am not waiting like the patient do.
I am waiting like prophecy,
like flood,
like plague.
I do not wait to love you.
I wait to devour you,
softly,
completely,
as if you were the last god left,
and I the last believer still on my knees.
May 31, 2025
May 31, 2025 at 6:23 AM UTC
Be nice
be sweet
dont fight
only smiles
be fake
dont **** especially
**** often
youre worthless
youre trash
behave boy
always behave
dont fight
dont rouse
be quiet
be still
shut up
be good
force goodness
be nice
be sweet
do more
forced humility
behave boy
youre trash
be good
OR ELSE.
Apr 6, 2025
Apr 6, 2025 at 12:05 AM UTC
My heart beats faster when I see you.
It also does that when I’m scared, too.
And instead of pleasant butterflies
I feel like you are stabbing my insides.
Loving you comes in destructive waves.
Like a flood that drowns, our graves
Maybe you’re not worthy of pure love.
At trial, they judge you from above.
Hear a whisper: "You’re not ready yet."
More pain, you still haven’t paid your debt.
Want to scream "I’m not just bad timing."
Imbalances are all there is to lightning.
Like a raging fire can’t stop the ash
A speeding accident can’t stop the crash.
And a hurricane is just the weather.
like the freezing cold in December.
When an earthquake occurs, it's just a slip.
I'm not at fault; I’m drawn to your lips.
Fresh blood will be my ink when I rhyme.
And the thought of you will fade with time.
The cheerful laugh you faked when you hoped to die
Just thoughts on this page already dry
Poetry makes, "I’ll never love you."
Sound like honey and red wine; it's true.
Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 12:19 PM UTC
Smoke across knuckles
You are my private delight
I will breathe you deep
Jan 30, 2025
Jan 30, 2025 at 5:11 AM UTC
You love me
But you go to her
You need me
But not that much
Can’t take anymore
But I can’t leave
What the hell am I here again for?
Dec 25, 2024
Dec 25, 2024 at 7:50 PM UTC
i wonder why i keep looking for love
in all the places i know i will not find it
maybe it is not one last prayer to be wrong
but rather resentful surrender
that i was right all along
if i prove to myself that love does not exist
by forcing myself into loveless places
maybe knowing i never got any of it
will hurt a little less
Mar 17, 2024
Mar 17, 2024 at 7:57 AM UTC
Countdowns have always seemed bittersweet to me..
The steady ticking away of time
The trickle of sand through the hourglass.
The fading of connections not curated.
I’ve always been morbidly aware of my own doomsday clock,
Slowly beating, decreasing, releasing my
Seconds into the atmosphere around me,
As I wait, sometimes impatiently, for it to hit zero.
Some days, I hope for my hourglass to run dry,
And while I know that that isn’t a healthy mindset,
Some days it is all that I can do to not hurry it along.
Not to take that revolver in my dad’s lockbox,
Not to take those pills in the medicine cabinet,
Not to take that rope and the one wobbly stool
that has sat at our bar for the past five years…
Just beckoning me.
Just wanting me to take that final step
into sweet, sweet oblivion.
But.
If I do take that final step..
Who would be there to pick up the pieces for them?
To clean up the mess that this disgusting body left behind?
Who would be there to finish my paintings,
To sing my unsung list that is ever-expanding,
To write these words that have seemed so forced these past months?
Who would be there for them, when I could not be?
Someone, I am sure, but I have been told that I am irreplaceable,
And while I may not believe that,
I am scared of leaving a mess behind
That my mother cannot bring herself to clean up.
I am scared of leaving behind a mess that would irrevocably break my father,
A mess that would torment my brothers,
A mess that my sisters would never even remember.
And maybe..
Maybe I am scared of the call of oblivion..
Or scared of the unknowingness of it all, rather.
Or perhaps I am tired of thinking
of myself as a mess to be cleaned up,
Nothing more, and nothing less.
And maybe
That is all I need
To survive one more day.
Apr 18, 2023
Apr 18, 2023 at 11:32 PM UTC
they say the lone wolf dies
yet the pack survives.
it is the strength of a whole and it solely that can mend for sturdy fangs and foreign bites
of ill-fated violence.
regrettable.
and although they say the pack survives, what is of the lone wolf?
is he fated to be swallowed whole by the jaws of his most trustworthy companions?
to be crucified as a slave and mistreated as a martyr?
they say the lone wolf dies
and his carcass serves as a reminder of what can be forgotten so easily
through the years he can be no more
and the pack will be, still
they say the pack survives upon the feeble shoulders of the lone wolf
feeding its ego and stomach
praying for another to idolize like the most precious of waste.
after one comes another
and time does not make saints out of victims
nor does the pack which thrives and feasts and tears limb to limb deities and sinners alike.
cruelty is no stranger to the pack
it is a principle to build community upon
and everyone relishes being the predator
until they too are made into the prey.
nobody ever remembers the lone wolf
nor do they remember whom he was before crucifixion
what they do remember is to never be pushed into such a place
the struggle never ends
and when another falls into their godless clutches
you'll thrive and feast and rejoice
and find yourself thinking
at least it’s not me
Nov 13, 2022
Nov 13, 2022 at 6:51 AM UTC
My lips hold back the lava in my chest.
The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.
I feel so at home in the flames that water is so underwhelming.
It’s the coals I sleep on through everything.
To look so long at the light only to blind myself each time;
You’d think I’d learn my lesson after each rhyme.
I’ve never felt comfort for long enough to recall.
The videos of me laughing are something that now make me bawl.
I don’t know how that feels anymore.
I don’t remember what you sound like or the color of your front door.
Your voice no longer echoes in my head.
Your face no longer plagues me in bed.
I don’t know you outside of memories;
Moments of my time that bite like fleas.
You make me itch still,
A symptom that which the spot can never refill.
I’ve been battling between anger and grief for so long now.
It’s a why; it’s a how.
It’s a feeling I can’t live without.
No matter how hard I try to erase the pressure or smother the intensity, the kindling always relights in this drought.
With a deep breath in, releasing all the smoke back out.
It’s my meditation now.
It’s my medication now.
To smell it on someone else and be engrossed in the poison that this can allow;
My dear, that’s intoxicating for me lately.
A mass we are swallowing with the passing moment cornering us innately.
I don’t partake with my own vessel but I will consume a host so absorbed.
They don’t see me molding my character every time I get bored.
One day I will have the entire puzzle lined up together.
Each piece fitted so perfectly, completely combined in a tether.
They will compose a tale so broken and numb.
That’s the feeling that fills my ****** drum.
Every tear is a bad dream.
Every eyelash is a wish for this story to have a different theme.
Jul 7, 2022
Jul 7, 2022 at 2:02 AM UTC
the red light distorts the cigarette smoke coming out of your nose. in the haze, i’m caught up writing prose with a bottle of coke in my left hand. trying not to choke on the heavy smoke ruminating throughout the suffocating room. your eyes the same shade of blood red as the lights. i’m boarding windows claiming i need no fresh air in my paper mâché lungs. pollute me more.
Jul 5, 2022
Jul 5, 2022 at 11:27 AM UTC
The hurricane in me is beginning
to twist around the words you're refusing to say.
And I'm so tired, selfish, sick;
and I cannot begin to tell you
how heavy my heart can become
when
you
don't
speak.
My face is bruising under the skin
as if your taciturnity is trapped there…
Pushing and pulsing and beating
until there is nothing left but
a ****** mess of lifeless conversation.
Pinched nerves and scrapes
and scars are more productive
than the conflict and concept of hurting alone.
So, stop clicking your tongue against
your teeth and take the bandage off your mouth.
Silence is not for lovers.
Feb 2, 2022
Feb 2, 2022 at 11:41 PM UTC
To love someone is to give them your all, I think. But most everyone doesn't see it like that, their love isn't real love.
How can you give someone else every piece of you without chipping yourself away?
How can you place boundaries in something as limitless as love?
How can you hold yourself back when you have so much more to give?
My love is real love. It is pure and it is everything to me but means nothing to anyone else.
My love is unhealthy, they tell me.
Too much, not enough.
I take it too far, they tell me.
Too big a heart, not small enough.
They tell me to love myself first before I give my love to someone else because it is special and deserves to be taken care of.
But a love so special, so all-consuming, deserves to go to the person who means the most to me, why would I waste it on myself?
I tear myself apart to rebuild the ones I love, and they would never do the same for me. Because their love is not real love.
Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 10:31 PM UTC
It burns
My chest
My eyes
My face
With shame
The tears
Were meant to heal
But instead they broke,
Caused me to choke
It was meant to be fine
Shouldn'tve dismissed the signs
Signs of you not being mine
And having me in your mind
Doesn't matter each way
Dismissed my feelings in the ashtray
Put them all where
They won't see another day
I miss companiable hugs
Instead of mental drugs
I don't need no rush
No guilt or shame
For loving who you are
And hating you the same
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 1:35 PM UTC
It's harder for my lungs
to open up to new air
when you're here
than when you're not
After all your presence takes
all the space I used to shape
to fit my own self
my own taste
Instead you force me
into a mold you've created
Force my body to fit
my mind to submit
my patience to coexist
with things I never wanted
A life not made for me
I'm just one of your mannequins
to pass the time
when people disappoint you
life doesn't go your way
your choices don't matter
so that you can shape me
into your own frustrations
and smother my essence
I'm just one of your mannequins
and
now
that you've left
I don't fit
in myself.
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 1:31 PM UTC
How to stop
My thoughts from running
To you
From painting
Phantom pictures
Of soft touches
Warm words
Festive times
Spent together
In each other's arms
Where only happiness
Can be found
And the safety
You provide
When everything feels scary
And I feel wary
Of every choice I make
You feel right
How to stop
My hands from shaking
My blood from boiling
My thoughts from wandering
To your face, your smile, your embrace
To your scarred hands
Caressing me
As I tremble
How to stop
My mind from pretending
You didn't take your knife
Of self-centered crap
Of idealization of my body
As if I'm nothing else
Than my body
My *******
My ***
And stop myself from forgetting
How the wheels always turn
And come back to the same
Unique
Mistake
How to stop justifying
Your actions
As to not
Lose you
While I
Lose myself
Dec 16, 2020
Dec 16, 2020 at 7:26 PM UTC
I’m alright, I promise. You don’t have to worry.
I know that every note I give to you now sparks fear in the pit of your stomach, and you skim over my sentences looking for words like “suicide” and “I’m sorry.”
When I hand you a note, you examine every word. From my handwriting to the ink I use, you take in every detail. You read between the lines now even on a blank sheet of paper, where there aren’t any lines to read between.
Your eyes are trained to spot the differences now. My life has become a game of Clue where you are the only player.
When my voice cracks, even the slightest bit, your ears have been conditioned to tune in immediately. You are constantly scanning for hesitation when I talk. You watch me to see if my hands shake, or if I bite my lip. You are searching for the warning signs that you think you missed last time, even though I never showed any.
They say that when you lose one sense, your other senses grow stronger to compensate. We say that we’ve become so close, but what we mean is that we’ve always been codependent. We did not bond over shared trauma; we bonded over a mutual fear of being alone. Our anxieties have molded into one huge, chaotic mess. Our fears have become so tangled that neither of us know who is afraid of what anymore. The only fear I am certain of is the fear of losing you.
I lost my ability to feel anything, and you developed a sense of hypersensitivity to balance out my numbness. I stopped caring about myself, so you started caring about me even more. You feel too much when I feel nothing.
I know you won’t believe me, but this is not a suicide note. You don’t need to worry about me. I’d promise you, but I’ve broken so many promises that I know they have no meaning anymore.
I cause you pain. There’s no use in denying it; we both know it’s true. I’m not trying to push you away. Even if I did, I know you’d come back. I have been draining your happiness and health slowly. Now, I am trying to rip off this bandaid all at once.
I’d rather you hurt from this revelation of who I really am. I’d rather you hate me for being someone who takes the easy way out, than hurt you by letting you believe that I have the potential to be in love.
I am capable of loving, and maybe I don’t show it the way that I should, but I love you. God, you have no idea how much I love you.
What I am not capable of is trusting. I love you, but I can’t trust you. I have no trust left, not even for myself.
And what is there without trust? Love itself isn’t enough to build a relationship off of. We talk about love as if it is a miracle. In every fairytale, true love is what saves the princess. Love breaks the curse. Love can turn a frog into a prince, a beast into a man. We talk about love as if it cures all. But love isn’t as powerful as we make it sound. You can’t love someone back to life.
I don’t know if I even want to save myself anymore, and you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. I am so grateful for your love, but your love alone is not enough.
I’ve always said I’m a realist; you’ve always said I’m nothing more than a pessimist in disguise. Maybe that’s true, maybe I do see only the negative side of things. But those negatives have kept me safe. I prepare myself for the worst so that I can never be disappointed, only pleasantly surprised. I can never be let down. In a way, I guess we’re both right. Pessimism has been my reality. This numbness has been my reality.
When you’re done reading this note, please tear it up into a thousand tiny pieces. Rip it, crumble it, destroy it. Make it impossible to reread. Please throw it away and don’t dig it back up. Please walk away and don’t look back.
If you turn back around, and if I look into your eyes again, I know that I will not let you leave. I will pull you back to me and let this cycle of destruction begin all over again. I hurt myself, which hurts you, which hurts me. It will not end.
When you go through the photos of us on your phone, please go through them quickly. If you have to delete them, then delete them. Deleting a picture doesn’t delete the memory with it. I know that, but it’s a start. One less photograph is one less reminder of me. One day, when you’re strong enough, maybe you can go back and flip through our old albums. But by the time you are strong enough to live healthily without me, I doubt you’ll still have them saved. One day, you will leave me in the past. It’s hard for me to admit it, but I know that is where I belong.
When you climb into your bed at the end of the night, please do not remember me sleeping next to you. I know how wrong the bed will feel when you get up in the morning and notice that there is no warm spot left on the other side. I know how strange it will be to turn over and not roll into my arms. This loneliness will feel like a foreign language, but please, learn to understand it. The words will eventually feel natural on your tongue, even if it doesn’t happen until your tongue is in the mouth of someone new.
When what used to be our songs play on shuffle, please don’t ruin them with thoughts of me. I want you to be able to hear their lyrics without pain. You deserve to smile when songs begin to play. I don’t want you to have to turn the radio off. You deserve to blast your music loud, and to sing without embarrassment. You deserve someone who will dance with you around the kitchen the way that we did once. You deserve someone who makes you laugh, and who makes you feel loved. Despite what you have made yourself believe, you deserve better than this.
These songs deserve to mark happy occasions, not to bring up bad memories. They deserve to be sung to, not cried over. They deserve to be shared with someone who’d mention their titles to you in love letters, not someone who only writes you suicide notes.
Oct 17, 2020
Oct 17, 2020 at 11:03 AM UTC
she wanted me
to change my size for her
like i was an wrong pair of shoes
but it wasn’t me
that didn’t fit
i had outgrown her
a long time ago
Esther L. Krenzin
Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 10:03 AM UTC