I exist but I do not co-exist
With the world around me
I live in a shadow of loneliness that...
No ammount of buildings
No ammount of lights
No ammount of people
Can overcome

I live in a city full of souls
Longing for some connection
But no matter how
Connected
The technology is around us
Our souls remain untouched
Unwanted
In the scheme of life

I exist in a bustling city
But I do not co-exist with its inhabitants
I live in a bubble of
Me, myself, and I
In the bubble I am
Alone
But it is by choice

To leave the bubble would mean loneliness not by choice but by exclusion...

Am I not interesting?
Am I too interesting?
Or is everyone too caught up to notice
Me and my lonely shadow
Ever present
Ever looming

God is good, He is enough
But real connection with a familiar soul
Is what I long for in my solace

I have a family, I have friends
But the truth is this;
I am alone

God is here, He is
Listening
Watching
Comforting
But I am alone...

I exist but I do not co-exist
With the world around me
I go through the motions
But it does not seem real
I have conversations
But they have no apeal

I exist in a bustling city
But I do not co-exist with its inhabitants

I exist
But not really
Not truly

365
Three simple numbers, a lot of meaning.
365 the number of freckles scattered over your body
365 the amount of times you told me you loved me in one day
365 the last 3 didgits of your cell number
365 the amount of times I watched your chest rise and fall until I fell asleep

365 the total ammount of days since you left
365 May no longer be the amount of freckles you have, she may have found one I missed
365 the amount of times you've said you loved her, it may have multiplied or tripled
365 no longer your last three digits, believe me I've checked

365 days of living without you
365 has tore me down and brought me to hell and back
365 no longer stands for the total number of days in a year
365 stands for how may days my heart has broken and how may times you've said goodbye

Should have never been born at all
Not born at all is way
With this face
And this name
Don't cry inside your paper house or
Your paper hours comes crashing down
More than what my mother said
More than just a doll to dress
More than just an empty head
That couldn't ammount to less
Am I

What little I know about myself
Is piled high upon a shelf
Waiting for my mind to realign
And find that I've been
Starving my ego
Having conversations
With the skeletons in my closet
Making fun of their
Feeble spines But realizing
So is mine

Still too proud to apologize
I tried to write a poem
But ended up with a full waste bin
And a dull safety pin
Yet I don't mean to jeopardize
The precision of your perfect lies
Oh humanity I've tried
To define myself with a dictionary

Leaving fingerprints on the obituary
The fabric scraps in my closet still
Send me guilt from my grandmother
In patterns from the sixties

Oh one day when day when I'm dead and gone
And know that life is much too long
To spend as someone else
My poems and my fabric will become
Vintage pessimism in a shoebox
Glowering down from someone else's shelf

I will not lie myself down
At your knees and bow.
I will not drape myself
Across the floor
And kiss the ground
Beneath your feet.
You are not my king
I am your queen.
You bow to me
And I shall do the same
I am your equal
Not your slave.
I am not your *****.
I don't want you to throw me down
I want to lie as equals
And if you so much as lay
A finger on me
Without asking first
You might find yourself lacking
In the eyes to behold me with
And the fingers to scold me with.
I am not your pet.
I will not come when called
No wolf whistle
Will ******* running
No ammount of persuasion
Will sway me.
I am not yours
You do not own me
And when you look upon me
And all you see is honeybee lips
Thin waist
*******
Nice ***
Even if you ask nicely
I have no obligation
I reserve the right to decline
Without being verbally assaulted
Do I really have to treat you
Like your age is equivalent
To the number of your IQ
No means no
Stop means stop
And you do not touch
Until I tell you to.
Keep you hands
Eyes
****
Mouth
And ****** preverted ego
To yourself.
I am powerful
I am a woman
Since when have those words
Become antonyms
They are the same
And a man is nothing
Without his better half.
We don't want it unless we say so
And you pay attention
When I say no
If you lack the skills
That toddelers know
Then we'll mark you down
Like it's still grade school.
But this is no playground game
Calling names doesn't equate to love
In just the same way that
Objectification isn't a complement
And promiscuity is not a one way ticket to ****.
I know rocks who have a better
Sense of moral direction than you.
Your broken ego
Makes you irreparable
You are utterly replaceable
Consent is ****
And you are not
Nobody 'deserves a good ****'
Are you really that fickle
No girl should be judged
By her short shorts
She is not the ***** here
You are horrible with a capital H
Go burn in hell.
I am not your toy
You play with me nicely
And only when
I
Say so
You stop when I say no
Could I possibly be more clear
Don't throw me down
We lie as equals
I will not lay in your bed
We play by my rules
I will not bow to you
I will not blow you
I will not kiss the ground you walk on
I am not an accessory
And you
Will
Respect me.

I am Water
I am Beer
I am ****** up
I am Love
I am Bold
I am Confusion
I am Half-Walked Roads
I am Pen to Paper
I am the Words that should have gone Unspoken
I am Aquaintance
I am Laughter at the Wrong Moments, For the Wrong Reasons, At the Wrong Pace, For the Wrong Ammount of Time; the Complete Embodiment of Inappropriate
I am Ordered Outside; Chaos Within
I am the Mistake You love to make

Here's to the teens,

The teens who are still smiling,
After being broken uncountable times.

The ones that are still waking up everyday despite the reasons they should not.
So many reasons.

The teens that ignore the suicidal mind inside their head that outlines the engravings in their wrists that spell his name.
To be used for the short ammount of feeling that she loves.
Because in reality.
Most of you don't even feel anymore.

Here's to the teens that are still hanging on,
Waiting.
Waiting for something, or someone to come stop the emptiness.

Here's to the teens that have given up on society.
And are living in their daydream.

Its probably better for us, anyways.

All of us,

Hurt, or not.

Society is gonna catch us all,
Like fishing.

Society's the bait.
Were the fish.
And this world,
Is the fisherman.

So here's to the teens,
The teens who are still breathing,
The ones that are learning to live in a daydream.

Because its safe, and its well,

Happy.

In our little daydream.

They say
Nothing tastes as good
As skinny feels
And when I look in the mirror
All I feel is anger
He tells me I'm  beautiful
He tells me that he loves my body
But I feel like I'm being told a liars tale
Like his liking of my appearance is nothing more than an Aesop's Fabel
With the lesson to never accept flattery
And I will always be the frog
My insecurities the stones they pelt me with
And if they can't hemp themselves
Than here I am splayed out like the frog I am on a dissection table
Waiting for your scalpels
And other picking tools
Rip me apart
And tell me my flaws
So I may love myself
Much like you do your own self
Through mirrors
And cameras
Because no amount of corsets or face masks
Will make me love myself
No ammount of comments from boys just passing by
Will make me feel better
Because there will always be that person telling me that I will die alone
That I'm not pretty enough
And that I don't look like her
And if there are 100 people telling me not to listen to them
And if they are so wrong
Than why do their opinions echo so loud?