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Little littered liter bottles of liquor on the balcony,
My girlfriend said she's tired of me,
I just tried to find myself,
And found out I was a catastrophe,
Now I question my morality,
I'm testing my mortality,
Did the same **** a hundred times,
The definition of insanity,
Nothing ever changed,
Never listened to suggestions,
Went searching for the answers,
But never asked the questions,
Never questioned my decisions,
Looking back,
I should have noticed my deficience,
Became a man out of requirement,
Nicotine so gripping,
Might not make it to retirement,
am I product of procrastination,
Or of my environment,
Haven't found my path,
Haven't found my purpose,
These are submerged thoughts,
That might not ever surface,
But here's to my persistence,
Which always makes me,
Improve on my existence,
And I know these thoughts are existential,
But without them,
I would squander my potential,
And if not for this nocturnal anxiety,
Who would listen to the boy,
Deemed an outcast by society.
Since I can remember,
we have measured things,
measured our heights,
to look down on others,
and measured our weight,
to put others down,
for succumbing to basic human tendencies,
because we measure beauty,
something no one has,
but everybody pretends to have,
because beauty is subjective,
an internal quality,
that cannot be measured.

Humans have always measured success,
by counting the digits in their bank accounts,
the amount of credit which affords tangible things,
money alone is not sufficient,
it never has been,
to have money,
one must have a job,
but first get a degree,
a degree measures intelligence,
and schools measure how intelligent one is,
intelligence is measured by how much you can memorize,
not common sense,
critical thinking,
or skills,
schools just measure all the useless things,
that can be crammed in one's head,
success is measured by material possessions,
like how nice a house is,
a house is where humans dwell,
success also depends on how nice a car is,
and how many cars one owns,
incidentally, a car is a machine,
humans use them to end their lives prematurely,
success depends on one's job too,
and their spouses job,
how well the spouse looks,
and the car they drive,
also the success of their kids,
kids are selfish copies of parents,
created to continue the sadistic human legacy,
success was, in men, privately measured,
by the length of their reproductive *****,
so they could please women,
women are aliens that men will never understand,
and women measured breast sizes,
their weight,
their beauty most of all,
and I will never know why,
because I am a man,
and will never understand women.
We also measured success by social media,
the more likes the more popular,
imaginary friends behind lit windows,
we measured self-esteem through comments,
and we thought we measured social media,
but social media measured us,
and how much we were worth to others,
but especially ourselves.

We, as a species, were so busy,
measuring everything else in this universe,
like the stars,
and other planets we could exploit,
when we were done with others,
so we could continue measuring things,
indefinitely and incessantly through time,
but in all this counting, this  excessive measuring,
we forgot to measure happiness,
or if we were even happy at all.
Tatiana Lasky Oct 2017
Bruised,
Battered,
Mind scattered,
Clothes tattered,
I dust myself off
And tell myself "I’m okay.”
“I can overcome the pain”

"HELP WANTED!"
Not me
I don’t want to bother or worry anyone
So I cling to bed and find solace in my dreams

I’m awake in a daze
Staring at the ceiling for a half an hour
I pull myself together and get in the shower
Thinking
Thinking
Thinking
Thinking some more
About all of yesterday’s regrets before I walk out the door

Shots
Shots
Shots
Shots to my face
Anything I can do to lessen the pain
Drunk sadnesses
But hey, “it’s college and that’s what everyone does”
So I keep going
I keep trekking on
Lying to myself
That it will be better tomorrow

Tomorrow is here...

And I’m still tattered
Sick
Worn down
My hearts’ shattered.
But I keep going
I keep stumbling through the crowd.
Tatiana Lasky Oct 2017
Underneath my smile and work effort, I am lost.
I am broken.
I am restricted.
I am soft spoken,
Unheard
When I try to express my feelings about something I love or hate
I am ridiculed
I am yelled at
I do everything I can to please others, but I get no appreciation and love
in return
I feel I am a worthless person
I feel I am stupid and uncool
I am used, then thrown away

Activists, artists, actors, singers, poets, slaves, soldiers are not recognized until they're dead
That's why we have history books
To tell the story of others, who had no voice
Even those who tried to speak up and were silenced

I wondered if I died, would anyone notice?
My mother would miss me, but that is all.
No one can possibly love me as unconditionally as my mother.
Other than having her in my life
     I am alone.
I think about ending my life everyday.
I am not a violent person, but I want to end the pain.
Then I think about my father, who died by suicide
I was so angry with him when he did it, but now I truly get it
I truly know how it feels for your chest to hurt,
     for your pillow to be wet with tears from sleepless nights, where all you did was cry
     and to have no motivation, no drive
     There is no end goal Nothing to look forward to
I wish he knew how much I love him and how much I miss him
I wish he knew that I understand his pain
He is the past tense and I am today
Living, but not thriving
Dreading the nights
When I'm in the darkness and alone
I usually can't sleep, but when I do,
     I am truly at peace
When morning comes
The sun shines through the window
I am relived
I go about my day, my routine
Every night I feel a grave sadness
The cycle repeats 

I am
Love
Light
I go through life unacknowledged, unrecognized
I am the flickering candle          
       about to burn out,        
     about to **** the flame,
about to die
Tatiana Lasky Apr 2017
Day 7872 of my existence
I tried to end it all, but the
knife was not in reach and the scissors were much too dull
Regressed into my depression
No savior in sight
No organized religion will help me see the light
I'm convinced it is my fate to go blissfully in the night
Ignorance is bliss, but the wise are always jaded
they see how cold the world is and how you're never appreciated

You're on your own, alone, in the darkness, in the sorrow
You pay a person to listen to your problems, so you'll get through the day and hopefully make it until tomorrow
Nothing is ever free,
not even love from your family
It always comes with a price or a condition

A vulnerable, worn down person
To be used and abused is my norm
Listening to the rain, I identify with the storm
I feel it's aguish and its thirst to be heard, to have a voice
The calming effect that emerges afterwards is not resolution, but conceding to the fight
To lose that endless battle, that I won't come out of alive
There's no reason to deny,
That sometimes I cry,
And get in my head,
Have all of these thoughts,
As I go to bed,
Whiskey with water,
Whiskey with ice,
Whiskey alone will suffice,
3 am crisis, existential,
Remembering forgotten potential,
And squandered opportunities,
Changing communities,
Like at&t; to Verizon ,
10 new phone numbers,
And no one to call,
No one to text,
I wanna know what's coming up next,
I need a palm reader,
I need a prophet,
To tell me the future,
If I smoke too much,
Should I get off it?
So many questions,
A man full of mystery,
Who failed all his maths,
But passed all his history,
Wanting to change,
but haven't been able,
Walking on ice,
But haven't been stable,
Been a while since I wrote,
So many things to report,
But never the time,
I sleep when I can,
I smoke when I wake,
I drink when I write,
I drink when I don't,
I wake when I want,
I'll die when its time,
I'll live while I wait.
I'll try to do right,
This is goodnight.
She hangs on by a thread
Becoming old and tattered
Knowing soon it will break
Unknowing what will happen after
All her dignity her grace
Wrapped into this thread that's worn
Her strength and fortitude
Teetering on the edge
Fingers numb and bloodied
As tight as she has wound it
Just hanging on for sanity
Pain letting her know she is alive
She wants to say enough
Just let go
But her will is stronger
than this thread that binds
The thread will not break...
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