if it appears that
my poems lack conviction,
it's because they do.

my words: white noise on
a radio brain, and i
can't change the station.

I hate my emotions.
It’s like I don’t have control
over what I feel.

Sometimes,
I’m just sad
for no reason.

Sometimes,
I’m just mad
for no reason.

I wish my emotions would stop
doing what they want.

Sometimes,
I feel things
and I can’t even explain what I feel,
and it makes me sick,
like a sinking feeling
in your gut.
It’s super weird.
I hate it a lot.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Sometimes,
I’m not even thinking about anything sad,
but
I feel so horrible.

I don’t know
if there’s a medicine for this.
I’ve already been declared not bipolar,
so I guess my emotions just hate me.

F*ck Inside Out.

The ceiling looks down
corroded, broken, messy
eyes look up
glassy, lifeless, empty

Is it over yet?

Please
I can’t stand it
Where are you? Where am I?
I can’t commit to anything

Help me
Can’t you—