being demisexual is like
a soulmate alternate universe
in which my heart connects with just one person at a time
and their name is branded on my skin
and my lips only desire theirs
and nothing matters except them
it is like I can't make myself love anyone else
and I can't look away, I feel like I'm drowning
there is no other device that can keep me afloat because once I'm stuck,
I'm stuck- I cannot keep my obsession at bay
there's nothing I can do about this- my hyper-intelligent mind
gets caught on an idea and repeats and repeats and repeats
and that is all there is-
it is like a cute little alternate universe where true love stays forever
except, well, it's this universe
and more often than not, they don't love me back.

Standing like a model in a motel room-
jealous eyes can't open the blinds.
Every time, every time.

Je t'aime à la folie, broken frames.
These are beautiful songs for damaged people
that don't think they're all the same.

They taste like formaldehyde,
so hopefully they'll preserve me.
But, instead, they burn the room
as they kiss my neck and collarbone.
Lapdancing on my loneliness-
Please, let me remove my eyes and hands,
because I've seen and have felt too much.

You don't understand:
everything is ideation
and demisexuality.
Double entendre:
I'm a toxic lover,
I have girls around my waste.

Take a look around and see how damaged everyone is,
and how universal they are in their illusory disguise,
"How can we be so smart if the last line was redundant, guys?"

Je t'aime à la folie, broken frames.
This is just a mediocre song for damaged people,
so they believe they're not all the same.

Don't feel too much.
Remove introspection.
Be self-absorbed.
Feel no affection.

Let me entirely clear,
As clear as crystal,
As clear as the sky
On a summer's day.

It has come to my attention
That I was a fraud,
Just as you were.

I have recently realized,
It was never you I loved.
It was your potential.
Who you could become.
Who I thought you were.

And now going over it all in my head,
I realized I fell for sweet nothings,
And soft tones,
And ginger touches,
And brash conversations
About politics
Where you were just agreeing
To appease me.

And I am still a firm believer
That you can love someone
Because of their flaws,
Not despite them,
Because that is true love in itself.

But I did not love your flaws.
I feared them. All of them.

And in hindsight
I regret
Confessing my soulmate philosophy.
And explaining the red strings of fate,
And telling you of my synesthesia and demisexuality.

Because my being demisexual made you feel special.
You aren't, by the way.

And you used,
Almost constantly,
My synesthesia against me.
Even when I told you
"It is not an ability,
Nor a power.
I cannot read minds."

I also told you
"It is not a party trick."

And you pressured me into using it for the latter
Due to your selfish desire
To use my as a ploy and a conversation piece,
Among other things.

I never loved you.
No,
I loved who I thought you were.

Because you are not good,
Nor kind,
Nor gentle,
And no where near loyal.

You are selfish
And cruel.

Judgmental glances
And cruel tones,
Harsh words,
And selfish intentions
Made up our relationship.

Your mother wrote
Upon her wall
What love is.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

It was literally written on the wall.

And we weren't any of that for each other.

If they had heard your words,
And if I had seen my own actions,
All would have known from the start
That we were toxic.

So keep fooling the world,
I'm going to be
A better me.

And upon these feelings for a Bluebird
Born under Mercury,
And the light of the star Spica,
I have come to see
The fear I have
For falling for anyone.

But maybe it's a risk
I'll be willing to take,
The closer I get,
The more sure I feel.

“I don’t understand how you could love someone whom you’ve just met. I mean, I’ve never understood how that happens…”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right person to fall immediately in love with yet.”

“That’s the thing, love just comes…you don’t really find it.”

“Love doesn’t come when you don’t find it.”

“I know it does because I’ve experienced it. You don’t “find” love, it finds you. Love is something that’s developed, not felt immediately…”

“You have a point. But if so, how come I’ve loved you the moment I’ve laid my eyes on you?”

“Well…then I’m afraid that’s not love, my dear.”

“Don’t you feel the same?”

No. Maybe, I do. Maybe, I will.

hookup culture always seemed lame
window shopping by finger swiping
i guess that's the modern game

people flirt and flaunt in hopes of action
i dodge them like the matrix
there's no ****** attraction

all the lingo is strange
what i'm trying to say
is i need an emotional bond
or we ain't ******* today

Manic Depression means a lot of things.
It means when I'm up, I'm way up.
It means when I'm down, I'm way, way down.

My PTSD makes me *** repulsed,
And my manic depression gives me an excess desire for ***,
And my demisexuality makes me only want that
With you.

With manic depression,
There's lots of unwanted thoughts,
And destruction on my self esteem,
And a false sense of superiority all at once.

And my generalized anxiety disorder
Makes me hyper-vigilant,
And repeatedly going over unwanted thoughts.

And my major depression,
It makes me lose my appetite,
It causes slowness in my activity,
Y'know,
All that usual exhaustion.

But I guess the thing is,
If I can pick myself back up
From complex PTSD and the other plethora of things,
I guess I'll be okay.

It can be difficult, but it's the best I can do.

I can only be the best I can be,
And I'm still working on that.

I can spot the points where I fell
It's all a bunch of nerves
and arousal and unrequited love

It's all about getting used to ****
Demisexuality? I kiss way too easily
The old pathway reigns supreme
it always wins! If you allow it
I am gnawing on hard bones
I am getting attached to the hard drugs
that I never planned to get caught on
yeah, that's it: I'm ******* caught.
Erasing myself quickly - but no more
It's like getting used to a same song
(Obstacle 1 by Interpol played now)
and ignoring the myriad offered by the world

In your absence - I am something and nothing
In your presence - a electricity current
A drug shot to the vein, that makes me forget
about safety and health, and I beam
but I know it's not correct, in fact,
it's a mistake
because you and I will drown
in a well of pain

London opened my eyes
was it me? was it my friends?
River Thames
I knew you'd clean my brain