Hold
On
Pain
Ends

I love autumn.
Why?
*Because it shows that dying can be beautiful.

Today i woke up, walked all the way to the overpeck park overlooking the frozen lake. I remember how much you loved this place, and so i sat there for an hour just thinking about you. And everything we talked about and everything we ever laughed about. And it was freezing but the cold didnt nearly compare to how much im missing you. All week ive been just a walking shell, harboring every ounce of detachment to my emotions and to my inability to feel anything but numb. I thought something was wrong with me, because all week ive been finding solitude in unfamiliar places and burying myself in unfamiliar faces in the hopes it would make all this easier. But this week you left us, and you were my best friend since high school and now youre gone. And i have no idea how to deal with it, ive made myself laugh to convince myself its not true, but in reality im a mess when im alone. You were the first person i ran into every single day in high school and the first person who would attempt to make me laugh when i was having a bad day. So no,i cant say im going to be strong today when i see you at the service and i cant say that im going to express any emotions because its just who i am, but if i do its all going to come out like water ripping through a dam. You impacted so many peoples lives and made friends wherever you touched ground, you were light to people who had never known a true friend or had no reason to believe there was any left. And everyday i carry your image, i carry your ideas and the things you taught me on how to appreciate those who have made you happy, how to laugh when things aren't always the best and how to never take someone for granted because one day they'll be gone. And ill keep that same promise we made in high school until the day i die. Everyone's talking about you and not a single person will forget you, you truly are an inspiration and i will miss you. And i promise ill think of you often, im just being honest. Thats all i can offer. Thats all that i know how to give. RIP Chynna.

Watching muscles ache from the stress in your back
Waiting for bones to break from the weight of what you lack.
I would spend all my time helping you find truth,
And it really cuts like a knife knowing I can't save you.
And it really eats me inside,  knowing i cant bring you back.
AND I CANT TELL WHAT HURTS MORE.
PIECING MYSELF TOGETHER OR PRETENDING IM INTACT
THE FACT YOUR CONTACT IN MY PHONE IS JUST A MEMORY
OR THAT ILL NEVER BE ABLE TO ACCEPT YOUR MORTALITY...
Because saying goodbye hurts the worst when you know it's the final word
It comes across like a curse and I can't believe you said it first
So now the final word on the final page
of the final chapter of this narrative we made
Is my weak conscious whispering words through my mouth,
the very words I prayed would never come out.

I keep clinging onto the past and hoping the future will be the same,
But now I cry and laugh knowing the past would not remain
And I would argue with God, every night I would lie awake
And lie to myself, hoping all of this was fake.
But fate has a funny way of rearranging things.
It comes in unannounced and misplaces everything.
The hours are ticking and they feel like forever.
But forever came suddenly and it feels like nothing.

Because I got a new perspective on general anesthetics
When you finally went to see Jesus,
and all your family learned how to believe in a void,
because that's all that they could see.
Cigarette smoke and broken words,
My heart became the platform for everything they hated the most,
And I stayed clear of the lack,
Hoping somebody would come by and cut this rope.

And I wrestled with the idea of taking your place,
But I know that if anyone deserves a break from this world of pain,
It's you, it's not me.
And I'm still asleep.

It's not about being there for me, it's about respecting me enough
to tell me why you're not.
So I'll just slip back into my sleep,
There's a ghost in my casket .
and most nights, I wish it was you.

Some of these have purpose, others are searching for it.
Some of these words have homes, others are now abandoned and wander alone.
You can decipher what you believe, these words will come to mean
But in the end, its all in your head, only an author knows what its meant
I cannot say my life, is perfect right now, but now creativity flows
I cant lie and say im happy right now, but these poems will guide the way home.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.