Scrolling my phone mindlessly
breezing past a selfie from someone in a bar
on the windowsills I used to sit...
I don't necessarily miss it;
but there's melancholy for the memories,
the smell of cigarettes on my fingertips,
and ***** soaking my worries...
tonight it feels like that could be nice,
cause I haven't been able to sleep for days...
been having nightmares every time I do;
and everything I write just feels redundant
but I've got so much I wanna say...
summer makes me feel more lonely
than when I'm under winter skies,
got so many parts of myself I don't recognize...
but every street has a memory,
and I'm just trying to move on
where bartenders once memorized my drinks,
they now probably wouldn't remember my name....
quit smoking **** in the spring
I'm spending money recklessly
******* myself over royally
I just wanna feel something good

Aurora borealis skies
bruises on my thighs
high fidelity type of ****
sharing the same color palette
I never get tired
of looking at those hues
but only when I'm looking up,
or directly at you
cause I'll ignore all the colors
when looking down on my own pores
unless I put it there deliberately with a brush
covering my sores
by mimicking the stars
with glitter crush
I could have stayed under that sky all night
to try and spin myself a thread made out of the light
because I've got a deep desire
to stitch that borealis glow right into my scars
to make that sparkle become my seams
to produce tones that replace muscle memory screams
Yet all the same,
the struggles teach something
and it's that these scars
are a requisite to growing
and bravery seeps out when I leave them showing
because there's a glow in melancholy
and sometimes, in metaphorically burst veins
because when art comes from tragedy
there's a glow in pain

That never needed stitching

I want to unravel my brain’s threads
that collectively weigh me down like lead
Turn the strings into blankets,
and make a fort in my living room to shelter inside of.
Every day rituals with intention to gift me peace,
are slowly becoming chores to avoid guilt and grief.
I thought life would be so different.
I never thought it would be this hard;
and while b0mbs fall on children,
I’m feeling sorry for myself and my deck of cards.
I'm daydreaming in dystopia.

When I think of memories
depicting feelings of my personal freedom
there’s always a cool breeze in my hair
and when the day is over
there’s a musty scent in my hair
from soaking in every step I took
and every dance I twirled under the prairie sky
I’m always chasing that feeling
my lungs opening up into wings
catching my breath so my freedom sings
but reality soaks through all good things
and the dark side of capitalism makes us all prisoners
a country divided keeps raising up the controllers
and we continue on in our division
petty crimes making up mass incarceration
dangerous men walking free and calling it justice
I'm tired of this
I wanna believe in good intentions
I wanna believe in honest testimony
tears covering up lies and misery loving company
we keep running in different directions competing in the same race
telling those born without boots to pull them up by their straps
while they're licking the boots of the man

Racing as fast as I can
to a finish line I'll never cross
always feeling like I gotta let people know
about every win and every loss
Main character syndrome that plagues me
an ego that has broken others
while completely shattering me
Putting my foot in my mouth
out of pride or jealousy
and when I see too much of my shadow
I'm right back to running
And while strong is a way I'm often perceived
so much of my actions feel cowardly
And
I'm not proud, I want to be
But
I'm learning
Growing, healing