but yes, i could
smile at you like an electric fence, could
**** myself over in
a field of happiness, resemblant,
there i stand,
on fire or just waking.

of course, neither of
us needs that, though. my
motions jar and disseminate truth
throughout me:
of foundation stone, or
of necessary monuments i
am hardly built, i
cut breath, breakfast and no class, i
can fall under a bus or
in love with you,

and the dull ache would remain;

and these days would still part.
and some small town would sleep,
all the same. so say
anything, or just idle and
stay and i'll go spiralling
down all the same.

it's so easy to talk about loneliness and pain
to romanticize all of these things that i've been feeling
and throw in rhymes here and there

but how do i get myself out of this mess?
how do you fall in love when you're so uncomfortable
with yourself?

it's 5 am again and all i can think of is
how quickly my fingers hover over the keys
and there are people rising but
i still cannot sleep

i am engulfed in sad songs and books and the quotes
in those books that tell me more about myself
than i ever can

(sometimes i wish some dead poets were my friends
and then sometimes i wish i could put on a mask
and masquerade around as another person,
as a stranger even to myself
i feel like i'd be more comfortable then)

tell me, what does it feel like to fall in love?
does it feel like electricity crawling up and down your spine,
like warm fuzzy feelings swirling in your stomach like wine?
and does it last? or do people just pretend?
will i ever find love? or will i be all alone in the end?

I haven't moved on, I haven't moved on
I'm still stuck on you and I never even knew you
I never felt your hand in mine and it's still the only thing I need
I never knew the way your breath warmed the crevices in my neck
and I still wish to know how your lips would feel
pressed to mine, at 3 am when your touch is the only thing
I desire deeply enough to deny myself sleep
I don't know what you meant when you said you couldn't tell me
I didn't understand, and it's been nearly a year,
but I still don't
and sometimes when I look at the grass, and in the sky
and at the bottom of a bottle of cheap *****
I think of you
and I think of how you left
and I think of how much I still can't comprehend
and I had no closure
and you didn't care
no closure
no closure
no means of explanation
just a body that I never knew
and a pair of hands that float in thin air
and arms that will not hold me in 5 years
when I'm still unstable thanks to my first love

My twenty-two hour love took me by the hand,
Being the first one to ever even acknowledge the fact that I was more than a human, but a mind as well.
We strolled by all the people who sent their hatred towards us,
Smirking at their ill-founded comments that seemed to know "everything" about us.
The butterflies were not only in my stomach,
But in my feet,
My heart,
All the way up to the tip of my scalp.
My twenty-two hour love took me by the waist.
He pulled me in closer to him as we were sitting,
As if I would suddenly run away from him if his grip became any looser.
We exchanged stories about our lives at the dead of night,
And somehow it felt normal.
His godly hands rejuvenated my skin and set my heart on fire,
But I didn't mind,
For my heart was previously ice-cold,
Even on those warm spring nights.
At the twenty-third hour of knowing my twenty-two hour love,
I peeled off his skin and revealed his vile insides,
And suddenly the butterflies that were scattered around my body became a swarm of bees,
Stinging at my insides and yearning for sweet honey.
The word "stop" suddenly had no meaning whatsoever,
And my screams became hushed whispers in his ears.
Once again, my twenty-two hour love grabbed me by the hand,
But this time he dragged me into a ring of fire,
That had previously served as my heart,
And his godly hands didn't seem so godly anymore,
For when I looked up,
I was holding hands with the Devil.

sometimes i wish i had people to talk to
about what goes on inside my head
but then i remember i’m overtly content
with living inside my own mind
without the need for interruptions
caused by other human beings,

because i’ve come to learn
through the experiences of others
that when you let people in
you are letting them drag you down
with the weight of their being
on top of your own

First cigarette of the day:
In goes the toxic particles,
Everything from ammonia to yeast all rolled up in a white and tan piece of paper.
Out goes the smoke, along with every negative feeling your body has ever been laced with.
You'd blow it all out,
hoping the smoke would take your problems away
and let everything disintegrate into the wind
as if you'd never see any trace of your issues again.
But if that were true, you wouldn't need another one.
Don't you dare touch another one.

Second cigarette of the day:
The smoke and feelings that you exhaled earlier in the morning,
Is now a ghost that's haunting you,
Slowly taking over your body until you're withering away into dust.
It's now a trail that follows you around and makes you stand out,
There is no escaping it.
Your problems are still relevant and floating in the air,
And you wonder why you can't **** them.
You inhale the ghosts that were once just mere feelings,
And you exhale an active tornado.

Third cigarette of the day:
Your ghosts have become demons that have broken through your protective rib cage into your lungs,
Which are now barren and wilted from setting them on fire,
Over and over again.
They tear past your heart and soul to make you cough up your anger and regret,
Just to have you swallow it again.
Your clothes reek,
Your teeth are yellowing,
And it's all because you wanted to breathe out your mere issues,
That just turned into haunting memories.

I feel sorry for you,
I know all you really want is someone who will listen.

I can see the dark clouds hanging over your head, casting blue,
But you put on a mask and walk around like your on top of the moon.

I hope you find someone who will care,
Even though we both know that I'm the only one who understood.

But you played the game, and you didn't play fair,
I feel sorry for you, because no one would've loved you, like I could.