The hardest part in pretending to be okay
is knowing that you are alone.
They see your smile and hear your laugh
and then they walk away.
Your scream is shattering, yet silent
and for a reason you have yet to discover on your own.
Your words are a game of scrabble
That no one seems to be able to decipher.
It all seems really pointless, now.
Why do you even try?

You’re not okay,
And you’re not okay pretending it’s supposed to be this way.
Forced laughter and twisted smiles,
You never thought life would end up like this.
No one knows and no one cares,
It’s a tragic way to live indeed.

But for some reason, you still want to live.
You want to breathe, you want to dream,
You want desperately to be free.
Death is not something you fear,
But you don’t desire it in the least.
Explain these mutated feelings to me,
I’m lost in hopeless thoughts.

Are you sad, or are you happy?
You don’t seem to know yourself.
Should you cry, or should you laugh?
Opposites to each other of course.
How could you begin to describe this life?
It’s a question mark with no sentence.

And at the end of the day, tucked into bed
Countless hours are spent staring ahead.
The good things,
The bad things,
And all the things in between -
Spiral in your head with no apparent ending.
And you begin to think that maybe, just maybe...
It won’t be as difficult tomorrow.

this is how it happens
it's the last day the temperature will be
above thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit
until February
you're not looking at the date
it's just the end of November
the middle of the night in the middle of a road
at the end of November
the hum of this small town hurts your ears
you're stuck in a dream where everything you see
turns into a weapon
this is how it happens
you knocked back sharp, amber liquid
to make this place feel a little more okay
and it only worked halfway
no matter how soft the edges are
you bruise your hips when you
run into them in the dark
you're ******* on your fourth cigarette when
a police officer pulls over and asks
how you're doing today
in the too-bright white of the headlights
the sick taste of Red Stag sticks to
the roof of your mouth
the mouth that you're moving into a smile
the mouth exhaling plumes of smoke at the ground
you're okay
"i'm okay."
you don't tell him what you're really doing
you're really taking all of your
thoughts about stopping your pulse for a walk
you don't tell him you've been
chasing ambulances all night long
please, officer don't leave me alone, you don't say
he tells you to have a good night and drives away
and this is how it happens
the moon smiles at you with every single one
of its tiny, sharp teeth
nobody but your cat finds you in that bathtub
nobody but your cat watches you rise from red water
watches it drip drip drip
from every chasm carved in your left arm
nobody but your cat saw the soft animal of your soul
shiver from the cold that day
it's the first day the temperature
dropped below
thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit inside your chest