Sewn-up into not caring
Modelled dispassionate
Roused into fantasy;
This one time would be
different
Oh naive optimism

His sight grows absent from reality when
he sees her
Leaving me unconsidered
he trades grins with her
With no forewarning
he trails off to her
Consinging to oblivon my presence when
he's with her
Nothing assuredly matters when
he's conversing with her

I'll bid farewell
to those so called feelings
Friends can fracture your
Sole heart
If you keep confiding
You will bruise nonstop
So let me advice you this one time
Become cold as ice

The thought of you makes me sick.
Knowing that you're still here,
It feels like you're always at my back.
Like there's whiskey breath down my neck.

I mistake other girls for you.
Wavy dark hair,
Heavy-handed makeup,
I wonder if they regret their faces
Like I do.

In the pit
Of my stomach,
I am empty.
Feasting on whatever
Sweet nothings I can gather.

After you left me,
Hungry.
I am slow to eat,
To sleep...
With a girl
Would be to
Replace you...

I wish

I had never met you.
Every day
I am betrayed
By want.

I lust for
The best of you
And I hate
The rest.

Part of me still loves you.
And that's the part I hate.
I try to abandon her,
But she is relentless.

I reach for lipless faces
And my kisses fall, tasteless.

I look for eyes across a room,
And find my sight
Fades to black.

The crook in my nose
Cracks open.
All I smell is rust.

I cannot face you.

My face goes numb.
My skin is see-through.
People are asking me
If I'm sick.

As I'm writing this the seconds fly by...time, slow down, I can't keep up and I'm always in the past.
Assignments, projects, classes with a schedule to cram in, must make me a busy student
I find myself listening to the tick-tock of the clock as I clench my fist trying to grab a hold of time.
No matter how much I get ahead or behind, time does not wait for mankind.
As the clock chimes and reminds us of the time before you know it's midnight.
All throughout my struggles and endeavors I utter a cry of defeat as time slips on by and through my grasp.
Now I, exhausted, crawling to bed and my work incomplete is a constant reminder time is something you can never beat.

I remember the first time we met;
you were a lightning bolt that
stricked a fire in my heart

they were dark days,
I was resting on the shoulders of
hopelessness, dancing with a two
left footed devil

it took me less than a heartbeat
to trust you, to test the water,
the wild white waves of my madness

nuzzled into my neck, as if
God himself had designed for
our spines to lock

man of the stars, wandering
the skies to find me, a held out
hand pushing though the galaxies
that tie us to reality, to longing

roaming far from my chest. An
empty cage where fishbones
rattle,

I pray for rain, for thunder,
for the slightest sign of you.
I am not soft and warm,

I am calamity, child of the
night, woman of the Earth
holding an entire universe
between my teeth

and waiting, wild eyed and hungry
for your electric

kiss

The first time I saw him in 2 years all I could manage to choke out was "where do you stay" and "I'll pay you as soon as i can"
I dreamt of him that night. I dreamt of dew covering the ground, chlorine, and dead things. Dreams of sugarplum fairies danced around my head.
You know, they say "relit cigarettes never taste the same and that's all I've got to say about rekindling old flames" but I imagine you would taste like the last time I kissed you- salty.
Because as soon as our lips touched I started to cry. Because I knew it would be the last time. Because we were too young. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be with you again.
I wish I could roll you into a joint and get high off you. I wish you didn't talk like one of the bad guys, like a gangster.
I wish you never learned what it was like to be without me.

Let me tell you of who I killed
Just to maintain the order inside this tower

A petty and dark person once lurked
At the deepest and darkest corner of my core
Uhm, I mean the tower's core

That petty and dark person,
shall we call her as depression
Tried to climb at the top of the tower
and attempted to break the order

She bounded my heart.. I mean the core with chains
Wants to climb on top, embed my brains
with thought of self infliction and suicide
She really wants to see someone die
and oh yes she did
because yes she died

I killed her
Coz no one can mess with the tower's order

And the story goes like this
I have then ordered for the order of nights to **** her
once she gets on top and touches the border
her life would soon be over

But she was a fighter, I admit
Several knights have fallen to a defeat
Cast down to an eternal pit
of negativity that she submits

Confidence, Self-worth, Joy
are few of the heroes that have first fallen
Followed by logic, intelligence, pride and sense
Until little by little she was winning

The top of the tower she was conquering

then the tower was slowly changing
cue in isolation and self condemnation

But oh boy
when she thought she had finally won
when she thought the war was finally over
Awakens my last remaining fighter
that was once in a slumber
the last remaining member of the knights order
and she is up to bring back the tower's lost order!

Shall I call this knight HOPE
small and fragile as she seems,
but boy she was so dope

Everytime depression knocks her down
HOPE would break and scatter all around
But dont get me wrong, hope was not losing
coz this is her type of fighting
and by this she was actually winning

Her scatted pieces that trailed every corner
Shone brightly even at the pits of negativity
The light became a guide
A path that let out her comrades from the pit

Now everything in the tower was shining
Even the petty and dark depression was submitting

For darkness can never win over light
Thus mark depression's era as over
I killed her
or I may have not

maybe she will be back
but let me tell her this
Let me tell you this
I have a great fighter
and once she is still alive
It will never be over
I will keep fighting whoever want to take over my tower
Coz if the light of hope is still there
my life, I will never let it be over

I remember relapsing on the floor of my mothers basement.
I still remember what it was like to feel my conscious
leave my body and
float into a complete world of
darkness.
There were no pretty patterns or
surreal hallucinations.
The bright light that everyone
spoke of
was not there
and I wondered
if I was to blame for it
being gone.

And at the same time,

I remember what it was like to wake up.
To see my mother, father,
brothers, sisters
and friends
standing over me.
Crying helplessly wondering if I would
ever be the same again.

I remember what it was like to look into their eyes.

And I remember what it was like to push every single one of them away.

I remember what it was like to argue and walk out on
the same people that said they would
always be there.

I remember because it was the only time in my life that I
truly didn’t care.

But here I am today.

Trying to find the words to make you believe
that I am a better man.

Here I am,
pulling truths from parts of me
that I have not visited in years.

But being transparent does not
******* me like it used to.

It motivates me more than
ever before.

This shaky,
raspy,
unattractive voice of mine
is all I have.

And by any means,

I am going to use it.

There’s only a few other things
I was put here to do.

And if speaking
even when I’m not
spoken to
somehow
saves my life,

then so be it.

Because I remember
what it was like to
keep everything bottled up
and how it got me
absolutely nowhere.

I remember being stepped on
and squashed
as if I did not matter.

I remember what it was like to have
no faith in myself
because that was what everybody
taught me to believe in.

That it was wrong to step out of line
if it meant losing friends or
loved ones.

And I believed them because I didn’t know
anything different.

I didn’t have any independence.
I didn’t have anything to stand for.
I was just a little kid,
four-foot-something,
trying to make it through
another day.

And for every night I prayed
for tomorrow not to come
to a God that I do not believe in,

it always came.

And even though this embodiment
of doubt,
that is my existence,
has never been a breeze-

I can only hope that it has been
worth fighting for.

That every day and every night
I spent hungover or
strung out on the floor
did not go in vain.

And all I can do now is work hard
every single day.

All I can do now is give every ounce
of energy that I have to
making a difference
on people that are going through
what I’ve been through;

to give someone a voice that is
comfortable and
familiar.

and despite the cliché,
maybe even some hope.

Because I remember what it was like
to figure it out

all on my own.