i dream of you
even when i’m awake
fading in
and out
of each day
as they all blend
and blur into one

nothing has been the same
since i first learned your name
and my heart hurts all the time
because i want you so badly
and you’ll never be mine

time stops for me
every now and then
when you pop up
into my life
and give me a reason
to smile again

i don’t want it to end

but it’s not for me
i’m not for it
no, i’m just a pile of ****
and the smiles i wear
always fade away
so quickly

It is me tonight

that will need
to find  release
through ******

Find a quiet place
on the edge of
your bed

and join me

i disgust myself
there is so much
hidden inside
that i hope
will
never be seen
in the light
i don’t want to know
i don’t want to care
i just want to
crumble up
into dust
particles
and disappear
with the air
i want the wind
to carry me away
to another place
where nobody
there
knows my face

maybe then
i can
let my guard
down
and allow myself
to be found
i can admit
to my faults
without immediately
playing it off
as a joke
i can allow my heart
to stop filling up
with doubt
and instead
flood with hope
and beauty,
but nope.

because here’s the thing,
i know that i won’t
because i
hide from all the healing
i hide from my true feelings
i disappear
inside myself
when i find myself
drunk
and reeling

i spent so many
years
and tears
drowning myself
along a stream
of all my fears
and whenever something
beautiful
draws near
i put my head
deep in between
my knees
and wait for
the light and love
to just leave me be
and forget about me
to allow me to just
remain
alone
in my uncomfortable
comfort zone

could it be?

the chameleon!?

changing
suits
and
colored skin
shifting
time
and time
again
to try
and
blend
in
and
hide
from the
things
that
frighten
her
within

she
camouflages
well
while
trying
not
to
tell

trying
to
conceal
the
things
inside
that
she
does
outside
without
ever
realizing
what
life
even
is
besides
this
hell
and
sad
little
lie
that
has
hidden
her
so
well

do you remember me

probably not
i never became anything

nothing more than suffocating, dissociative daydreams
surrounded by green leaves on lemon trees
i still could not thrive
amidst the accommodating salt air
still fading,
still weak
living on figurative life support all of my teens, now at twenty-three
decaying in one room, with one window looking out to an alley

can i even say i've changed

as romantic as it would be to say yes, and for the worse
i'm still not "me"

i do not even get the luxury of claiming i was once something before i turned into nothing

i remember claiming that i was trying to "be art"
in hopes that being an abstract museum of things you could see, but couldn't touch would somehow save me
but that is no way to feel
no way to be

i am no poem,
i am no painting,
i am no line i am no iris i am no olly

i am nothing