We all have demons
mine just so happen to have
FACES
and
LUNGS
and
HANDS.
An eye watches me
disembodied
floating a little way from my face.
I can feel something
living in my neck,
and it curls around my spine,
unsettled.
THE EYES THAT LIVE IN MY SCALP blink,
constantly blink.
it aches.
they blink together to some unknown metronome.
I try to ignore THE HANDS that grab at my head and shoulders,
gripping the sides of my head,
pressing into my temples.
My demons loom over me and BREATHE,
Cold gusts,
So cold..
I tremble in fear of the man who travels through dreams
and wonder how much HE KNOWS
and wonder if HE CAN SEE ME now
and is he GOD or DEVIL?
for now he is my DEMON
and on the back of my neck
I feel his EYES.

being a siren's exhausting
i never stop making noise
blaring in hopes that you'll hear past the monotonous droning and pinpoint my voice
i know it just sounds like more warnings
like a storm now is starting to move
I'm a human tornado, a thunderstorm waking, an uprising cry you can't soothe
if you listen I promise there's words here
if you listen closely you'll hear past the whine
the siren is blaring and blank eyes are staring
"I don't know if I'll make it this time"

i swore to myself
id never be like my father
wouldnt follow my brother
grow into soiled shoes
but promises aside, i still find myself
laying in bed on a friday night
wishing i had fewer emotions
less expected of me
and more
***

I cave.
I smile.
I walk away
With no comfort,
Feeling no more certain of anything
Than I had felt before,
But I can't
demand we talk about this,
can't demand
anything from you.
I'm too afraid
of confrontation
that leads to loss.
you are
the last precious person,
so I cave.
I smile.
"it's okay"

what the **** is this, anyway?

I promise
I'll try
to reprogram myself
not to love you anymore,
but i don't know where we stand,
or what's allowed,
or what will push you further away from me,
so tell me what to feel.
ive always said id do anything for you.
say the words,
I'll turn away,
but tell me how it's gotta be
because i don't know if i can keep it up,
loving you wholeheartedly, halfway,
putting all my effort into repression, uncertainty,
only honest when i spill my soul into words you don't read -
you won't read this.
listen.
i love you to the very tips of my fingers
but i don't know if it's okay anymore-
just, please.
tell me what to feel.

hey, so,
are we cool?
ive written this before,
written confessions about the meaning behind it.
hey,
are we still close?
because you mean the world to me, id pull the moon out of the sky for you, do anything for you,
and i think at some point you felt that way too
except im not too sure
you've never been great at showing it
and even then
it doesn't matter anymore.
hey, like,
not to sound irrational
(i am)
but are you sick of me?
because everyone is eventually, and it's okay,
ive seen this coming
but if you're gonna shoot me
just do it already.
uh... hey.
i love you.
...but are we cool?

i want to go through and clean things up
scrub the blood off the walls
clear the smell of rust and loneliness from the air
i am not the intelligent author of prose, no,
but the emotional rambler with a vocabulary made up of
screams and metaphors
i want to bare my soul
to you, who may actually understand what it means to be bare
but i fear we don't speak the same language
every word i write
every entry laced with desperation
and yours, introspection
i am too self-critical to be self-aware
but tell me
if i write with the tantrum honesty of a child
will you understand?