i get this feeling a lot
and somehow i can't breathe
it's as if someone is wringing out my chest
preventing each breath to escape
it's exhausting
i get this feeling a lot
and suddenly my entire world is in a whirlpool
i am lost and i can't find my way around
i am dizzy and nauseous
i get this feeling a lot
and for some reason my breaths are getting shorter
my head is getting so heavy it feels as if i am carrying a boulder upon my shoulders
every single person i have ever met is yelling my name
they are yelling at me but i can't respond to them all at once
they are getting angry now
my stomach is turning each and every way just like a tornado
my hands have suddenly become an earthquake
my heart a landslide
and my mind a cyclone
i get this feeling a lot

i held onto nothing for so long
every single second wasted
mourning the person
i wanted you to be
formulating imaginary scenarios
of us
but there is no us
only a me and only a you
acceptance is key
acceptance of the nothingness that is us
this made up memoir
has come to an end
i am digging a grave
and burying it six feet under
i held onto nothing for so long
naïve and blind
unaware of the indifference
i was a bird in the snow
i was lost
lost in the love that was not to be
i held onto nothing for so long

i refuse to be your ball and chain
i refuse to be the thorn in your side
i refuse to be your excess baggage
i am not the one
who made you this way
stiff of bitter and coldness
burning with hatred
and oozing of destructive words
like the blood that is
leaving my wounds
there is no such thing as split
only take with you
no such thing as worry
only neglect
the world affected you
what happened to the one
whose words were
as kind as a mother bird
feeding her baby
as gentle as the music
that spreads around my soul
i am not the one
who made you this way
it is the guilt
that is caressing your pulse
and grazing your veins
it is the abandonment
that makes you mad
mad in your head and your mind
and your pride and your reality
the reality that
pierces through your gut
like an ax through a tree
it ruins you
you are empty
you are nothing
you feel dead
you've checked out of your misery
you have pushed up your daisies
you are resting
in your coffin of
suppressed weakness
you are a dead flower
colorless and fractured
you are a disfigured butterfly
with punctured wings
i am not the one
who made you this way

am i?

i hate being tickled
there's something so repulsive about the motion of fingers
committing a disturbance all over my body
that it sends me into a whirlpool of agonizing stress
so why is it that the sound of your voice
and the familiarity of your grin
tickles me in a way that is so unutterable
that all of my senses seem to disappear
whenever you are in my presence
i hate being tickled
but i love the feeling of your voice
vibrating against my chest
in the same way
a pendulum moves rhythmically
back and forth
i hate being tickled
but i adore the way your tender hands
twist and bind all over my body
making us as one similar to a pretzel
maybe,
i don't hate being tickled so much

you've captured my eye
grasping onto my heart
like a dog with a bone
it's vigorous
but familiar
i became attached
in the matter of milliseconds
like a baby
gets attached to it's mama
i could not let go
i wonder when i will stop feeling you
in my mind
and in my heart
and in my nose
and in my toes
it's vigorous
but tender
it's delicate
but firm
another could not possibly
cause my heart to swell up
like a crescendo
upon the piano keys
i like it
it's vigorous
but with a soft rhythm