It’s funny how I want to tell you everything,
and even funnier how many times i’ve tried to
only to realize you aren’t there to tell.

I want to tell you how hard it rained two days ago.
It rained so hard I think it washed away
a little more than my mascara.
I want to tell you that I was so high when you left
I don’t know if I said goodbye.

I want to tell you goodnight at 4am
and good morning an hour later.
I want to tell you that every time I wear that skirt
I was wearing when we met
I think of how much I liked the feeling of your hand on my thigh.

I know you aren’t here
but I want to tell you anyway
Telling you wouldn’t make you love me
but I want to tell you anyway
You are doing more important things than wondering
if our bodies would fit together
but I want to write this anyway.

i want to dissolve into the sky
without a sound
without anyone noticing my empty space
in the most gentle and subtle way possible
i want to go away from here
i want to walk backwards and save myself
from what inevitability is ahead
i want to leave
i want you
to wish i’d stay

Poetry is subjective

Relief and escape are relative.
My relief is another's hell.
Some pour their soul into words
Like their body was made to write
Some must force themselves
Into the confines of a word,
Their brain oozing out the top.

Beauty is a man-made concept.
The worth of art
is one soul's opinion.
She digests the poem
As if it is hand made pasta
It slips and slides through her
And she appreciates the chef.

In my body,
It is garbage.
The gritty texture triggers
A gag reflex.
I mash the letters with my teeth.
I cannot force them down.

Poetry is personal

These realizations cannot penetrate
A being who has not been pried open
In preparation.
I am not you,
Nor are you me.
My art is not yours.

I am not afraid to die.
Maybe it is because
The effort of existing is
Expanding my lungs exponentially
And when they explode,
I will deflate
But I have come to terms
With the fact that
What goes up, must come down.

You wrote to me,
"Do you like being human?"
And I said,
"What else is there?"

I do not believe in God.
God does not believe in me.

I want to carry my mortality
Close to me
To hear it collide with the loose change in my pocket
To check to see if it is still there
When the sun trades places with the moon
And my father smells like coffee.

I like the feeling of
Smoke igniting my throat
Because then I can convince myself
It is only the tobacco
That is eating me from the inside out.

I do not want to be immortal,
The thrill of being alive is that
It is a privilege.

Why do you want to be God?
You will know evil,
My god, you will know evil.
There is no cure,
Not even you
Not even you
But that is okay because
Nothing is good, if everything is good
Nothing is good
Nothing is good.

Let me feel your humanity,
I want to feel
You.
Tell me, do you like being human?
Tell me, what else is there?

What are friends for..
Let's hangout
Having fun
leaving the outside world figure itself out
Try and fit in
Be the opposite of yourself
You're loved for who you're not
And hated for your great mutations
Filled with void of perfect hypocrisy
Would you keep me in your memory?
I'll shelter you and be your apology

You still didn't call
Probably busy sitting on a chair
But I understand..

I was killed by my kindness
And my pride got buried
Called me your *****
In front of your friends
And yes I was..
Fulfilling your deficiencies
But doesn't end well
I took your life
Cause mine never existed
It was always kept in a shell

July 8th - Where am I? What is this place? Why do I remember everything & nothing all at the exact same time?

July 14th - This is a place where the dying go to; I don't understand.

July 24th - I feel this sort of pain, but it's nothing I can't handle.

August 1st - I miss my pillow the most.

August 17th - I don't know how I ended up in here. I don't know how I ended up like this.

August 20th - I was created to please, yet lived to only disappoint.

August 21st - I'm so cold. They don't have blankets in this room. Just walls.

August 22nd - Why hasn't anyone came to visit me? Why doesn't anyone care?

August 24th - I can't breathe. These walls turned into a face mask & I can feel myself slowly disintegrating.

August 28th - A cookie may be able to crumble, but I could crumble oh so much faster; & crumble I shall.

September 1st - A window appeared. But it's always raining outside of it.

September 4th - I forgot how to speak. The rain is much louder than my voice, & i'm starting to realize that's how it's always been.

September 5th - I don't remember the feeling of dry eyes. I can't tell if the moistness is actually tears or if i've just been standing by this window a little too long.

September 15th - I like to pretend that this feeling is normal.

September 16th - Everyone won't stop asking me questions about when i'm going to get released & seem to never stop wondering what's "actually wrong with me".

September 17th - Maybe I can just act like everyone else are the ones with the problems.

September 21st - I need to be alone, yet I haven't even seen anyone in what seems to be months.

September 28th - I don't know how long i've been in here, but i'm starting to feel at home.

October 2nd - I finally met my doctor. He seems like a nice man. Hopefully he can take this feeling away, whatever it is.

October 3rd - I haven't opened my eyes all day; i'm too scared to see that you're still not there.

October 5th - The doctor keeps telling me that there are no visible sign of anything being wrong, he says i'm free to go.

October 5th - I don't want to go.