Every day now feels like that Thursday.
When the rain just instigates for no reason.
Every day now feels like a sick day.
Except there's no home to rest.

I suppose you could be my medicine.
You could break into a million shreds
and release all of the chemicals
that give me such an ideal numbness.

Because the pills that hurt us most
are the ones that we try the hardest to swallow.
And the ones that heal us
are just too much follow.

Perhaps this is why I'll never have you.
You are the poison and the pain
that can make me smile on cue.
But I
I'm
Nothing.
Nothing but a smoke and a joke,
and a sub-par kisser.
A black hole of emotion and ambition.
Nothing.

If only she had any clue
how much life she contained in one breath.
If she only knew
how many storms she creates within me.

She is here.
And she knows nothing of the endless light within her.
The only one who does
is nothing.

i didn’t want rain.
i wanted beauty.
i wanted to see the rising sun
touch the blooming flowers
and i wanted to fall in love
with the glow of the sunset.
but it rained.
maybe i needed the rain,
because i needed to remember
that rain makes
the blooming flowers grow
and rain brings rainbows
and it washes away the
ugliness and brings back beauty.
and maybe i needed the rain
to remind me that i won’t always
be broken, that the brokenness
will be made whole, that this
season one day will be a dim memory,
that You will wipe away my tears,
that You make it rain on my heart
so that flowers can bloom in it,
so rainbows can fill the
skies of my soul.
maybe i just needed it to rain.

The devil went down to Georgia
But made a stop along the way
He tossed a rock and thought
Maybe... maybe not today

So your soul went free and safe
You dodged the devil again
So put the bottle or pill away
And never let the devil win

Its hard to see the open sky
If you've forgotten blue
But its still got days to shine
And so, my friend, do you

2% happy
2% loved
6% lonely
10% just gave up
10% ******
10% bracelets
10% gloves
9% irritated
20% doesn't give a ****
10% has nothing to say
4% stays silent
1% knows its better this way
3% hates you
3% hates me
?% is emo
that (?%) is Me...

Welcome to Men Tal's Asylum
Would you like a room?
Oh, you're here for a visit?
Don't keep your hopes up, soon will come your doom

You see that man in the rocking chair?
Why, that's Old Sir James
He was a devoted knight
Who loved to play horrid games

And that girl giggling to herself?
That's little Mary
She killed both her parents
Convinced she sacrificed them to a fairy

Those twins in the corner?
That's Tommy and Sue
They burned the town folk
And even ate a few

The regal woman in the straightjacket
Is Queen Opal Mead
She killed her son and husband
And crazily laughed her head

The boy being restrained over here?
That is Kendall Fair
He killed his sister an hour ago
And ate all of her hair

Our last and final stop is a room
A mirror and bad news, don't you see
Those patients you saw never existed
But your stay here is free!

I was born on a Sunday.
My eyes change colors
depending on the weather.
I am 5' 2'' but feel like I am 5' 6".
I don't know how to do Calculus.
I am okay with that.

My first name means "one who listens".
I wish my middle name meant "one who speaks"
because my God, I am a wishing well
and people have the tendency to toss
their secrets into me. And their loss, their pain,
their anger, their sadness, their regret
it fills up a part of me that I thought was infinite.
I am on the constant verge of spilling over and
when I walk I feel like a garbage bag, dragged
against cement, one sidewalk scrape away
from coming undone. I am expected to keep
everyone's mess inside.

My friends tend give me **** for the amount of
time I can spend staring in the mirror.
The secret here isn't that I'm vain,
it's that approaching my reflection is like
ripping off a band-aid because looking
myself in the eye still makes my stomach flip.
60 pounds of weight lost does not
silence the echoes of words that
convinced me that life as a size zero
was the only life worth living and
I had been alive nine sizes too long.
I can't always remember that I am beautiful.

And I have this collection
of words that I should
have said. When I am alone,
I bring them out from
my closet and introduce
them to the ghosts of
people I have lost,
of the people I could not fix,
of the people I should forget
but can't forget because I
don't want to forget because
there's something about keeping
wounds open that feels better
than letting them heal—
I have always been one to pick at scabs.

This is my declaration of honesty—

My name is Sam.
I can't ride a bike
but I can write you a poem.
I am afraid of perpetually falling
in love with people who won't  love me back.
There is a man in a cell I live to forget.
I am convinced Heaven looks like Ireland
and that soul mates come in multiples.
My voice shakes when I say what I think.
and for once,
this poem isn't for you.

This is a poem for me.