It is another one of those early mornings when hatred spews out of my body and aims for itself, I never miss. I have always been good at reaching targets, even better when I myself am bullseye.
I shoot directly for the mirror. Into my thighs, my chest, this mountain range of a body. I send my angry in a direct path towards my folds, my stomach, my skin, in all that is human. I launch bombs on my own territory like it's what I've been sent to do, like I was made to destroy what I have spent my whole life building.
I ask why it so easy to rip apart the things I've put together myself. I ask why it feels so normal to want to break down the rafters of the only shelter I will ever be able to use for protection.
I blame everything else before I blame me. I blame the girls with bodies like sunsets, that contrast my mid-day average sky of a figure. I blame the dresses that I cannot fit into, the way they **** the life out of me every time I can't stretch them past my hips. I blame genetics with absolutely no knowledge of science behind me.
I want to blame society for the hate that has been multiplying inside of me but at the end of the day I am still the one who does the math. It is still me who pours self-deprecation over my head to shower in all of the things I cannot wash out. It is still me who incites hurricane upon every part of myself that is impossible to change by nature. I am the one who detonates my disappointments like the explosion will somehow change the way I look, like the aftermath of destruction will leave me with anything but empty and wreckage.
I often forget that it is me who spoon feeds myself memories of failure at every meal. It is me who hands over guilt every time I reach for the snooze button to fall back asleep. I even shove myself in fault to depression, cover myself in darkness and then wonder why there is no light to be seen. I am the culprit in it all.
In the mornings when my mind is still circling to figure out where it left off, I point it in the direction of negative. I take all of the crooked and pile it up to remind myself of the mismatch. When I take aim at my reflection, I never miss.
I direct the ****** of my mistakes, vulnerability and insecurity directly towards my image. I have become the hitman of my own assassination. My fall into disaster is wholeheartedly my own doing. I am the best of the best when it comes to this form of damage. I never miss.

I'll be honest
I'm not exactly sure how to write myself pretty
I don't think I'm capable of making desire out of words
Or forming the way I sound into something you would want to fall asleep to
I cannot mold my body into a figure that you would want next to yours for more than one night
I have more passion in myself than I know what to do with
I often give it out as hope for people to take in their hands, find something good in all of my chaos
Everyone always advises not to fall face first in love
Forgetting that the those who fall by accident
Often land the hardest
Hitting the ground full force
Cheek against the pavement
I was built with 206 bones in my body
And I will break all of them from my mistakes
Before I dare to stop falling
The crash is worth the high
Ask me every time when I am still hung over from yesterday
And I will always say yes
Having regrets has always seemed better
Than having nothing at all
I was born with steel layed out upon my chest
All of these attempts at language
Are done with the intention
Of removing some weight off of it
I have been made heavy by my own silence on too many occasions
At times I have been told not to speak
That my lips should be kept shut for protection
There are bolts on my jaw
My tongue is sandpaper
And I will risk grinding my teeth for the possibility of igniting a flame
Inside someone who has spent years trying to find a lit match
Let me be the thing that starts a fire
Rhyming doesn't always incite romance
But I can try my best
See the problem is that there are so many ways to say I love you
But not enough to make them love you
The problem is having a million things to say
And a million ways to say them
But not knowing the right way how to
There is no right or wrong here
Only hold back or release
So stutter instead of staying quiet
It is much more beautiful on paper
To disregard format, or style
And structure
I will mess up
As best as I can
And in the morning
Look at it again
Remember how it felt
To live
Then reread,
Review,
And edit.

"I'll make a picture of you" I told her
"Are you a painter?" she asked.
"No, but I can paint you in words" I answered

too proud to admit my weakness
too weak to get better on my own

is there a reason why I can't imagine my life ten years from now?
people know what they're passionate about
I used to know what I was passionate about
until real life hit me like a truck
and shattered my dreams into fragments on the concrete of my self-doubt
why am I so afraid of my future yet so unsatisfied with my present?

I could sit here and write you a thousand poems
Millions of letters thrown across a page
In attempts for you to understand
That I'm truly and undoubtedly
In love with you.
And I know with all my heart
That you love her.
It kills me inside to listen
You trip up on your words with laughter
Because just thinking about her
Causes you to lose yourself in thought.
You scrunch up your nose a little
And a smile toys at the edge of your mouth
As your fingers twist at your clothes or hair
Usually you sigh slightly leaning forward looking off
And I watch you fall for her more and more each day.
You're beautiful when you're in love.
I just wish you had worn that dress for me to admire
Maybe then I wouldn't feel so bad about doing it anyways.

New year, new me, I say it always
It is a new year but I am still the old, aching heart and tired bones from chasing for so long
These hands fold backwards trying to find something to put in them, really anything that fits will do
It is just like me to constantly be looking to fill the emptiness

New year, new me, I say jokingly
But I do not laugh when I start to miss you
It is a new year but I am still stuck on the last, when one month turned to six
We met in June and on December 31st you decided to cleanse yourself of me entirely
It is January 2nd and I can't say I've done the same

New year, new me, she is not new
I am waiting for the ring to appear on her finger
Your recycled promise will be on whatever diamond cut you choose and
When she slips it on, I almost can swear I'll hear my pinky break from the weight of all the let down it carried
I tried to hold it all, I did

New year, new me
I am a quarter of a half of what used to be whole
I have never been very good at math but you taught me how to count
Days waiting, it has been 151 since you were supposed to come back
I have learned minds change like seasons come, slowly then all at once
It is winter and I don't know who you are anymore

New year, same me
Maybe I'll be different by the time the next one rolls around.