It's in the tense stillness

The quiet.

The beating of my heart in my chest,

So shaky and shallow.



It's the fist in the air,

The blood on my lip,

A red river down my face.



It's the shattering of a heart

Of innocence,

A trampled flower.



It's the thought

That just once



I'd hit back.

I'm sorry
That I text you
At four a.m.
When
I
Can't
Breathe
Because of
Anxiety attacks.

I'm sorry that
I can't make serious phone calls
Or order at Subway
Around the corner,
Even though I know
I like thinly sliced turkey
And chipotle dressing.

I'm sorry that
I forget things like
Birthdays and middle names
And I'm sorry
That I don't know how to
Kiss.

I'm sorry
That you think
When I don't take a compliment
I'm fishing for you
To keep going,
Because in my rotting skull
That option
Isn't even possible.

I'm sorry.
So sorry.
That if you're
Nice to me
I will never
Ever
Believe you
Actually like me.

Skinny.
I want to be skinny.
Skin and bones,
No awkward lumps,
No pudgy cheeks.
Just beauty.

Perfect.
How am supposed to be perfect?
With societies expectations.
No more pain,
No more sorrow.
Just serenity.

Loved.
I just want to be loved.
By someone who cares.
No more loneliness.
No more tears.
Just love.

Unattainable wanting.*
The only thing I feel.
Things I can never have.

I Jammed the pain inside, to wait for the defects to reside. Today strays and wanders away until it's stuffed down inside the void of discomfort. Let's roll our imagination onto light able paper, light it, and watch it burn..

See because that's what addiction does. It overrides your body latching on your inner artistry for its fuel. Pretty soon you become a machine, something mindless. Fasten your seatbelt because your on auto-pilot.

Now the transactions of your body really start to inaugurate. Your internals no longer has what it takes to fight, to resist, so now come the alterations.The tips of your fingers go hand in hand with the tip of your tongue. How your saliva's lust for substance dismantles the chemical compounds. Your taste buds loving that all too familiar feeling. Your greed full blood consuming every inch of it. As the destruction slowly trickles down your throat your anxious. Then the finale comes, the moment you've been waiting patiently for  the manipulation and overhaul of your brain and your reality remodeled, your home.

In those seconds pain is never an option, never a thought. Your lost out at sea. But that's all it really is, seconds, minutes, sometimes hours, just a little more time to stick the dysphoria on the back burner. When in truth you've just deepened the scar and exposed it to infections. When it's gone your left with broken thoughts that feel unrepairable.

Addiction doesn't just come from pre-packaged materials, they come from every entity you wish that blocks the truth out. They come from unfulfillment , pain, and soak themselves until you are left with no control. You have to fight, fight for your life. Face the music

Eating my meal at the usual fast food spot,
Public intimacy at the counter,
That love bird love,

Seeing person after person walk in,
So many memories in this very seat,
From back then,

Some moved on, some still in touch,
Those days when adrenalin was frequent,
The blood, my heart, would rush,

I still remember sitting on that hill,
In isolation staring out,
Into the stars and clouds,
Wondering what life's about,

This poem, written on a fast food napkin,
Concentration clouded,
By the noise of laughter and a screaming kid tantrum

The skate home that night,
My jacket shielded the cold from my neck,
It was 1 o'clock, no people, no cars in sight,
Except,

That one police car flying by,
Colors of blue and red,
With it sirens ringing,
Past my head.

Sometimes I feel that depression is a terminal disease
And eventually I will die of a broken heart.
I feel that sunshine will only kiss my body as it lay cold
And that I will only see the beauty in daisies when I am pushing them up

Sometimes I feel that something in me is broken
Some secret unspoken
Something is a little off
Not right
And I've grown exhausted of the fight
To be normal
To blend
When asked as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up
I always said
I want to be okay

Sometimes I want the pain to end
But it's become my only friend
She covers me
Reminding me
That relief is only one swift flick of a blade across my wrists away
Once,  I almost listened to her

Sometimes I know I'm not okay
I stopped hiding the scars because I wanted you to see me
To save me
To hold me close and not let me go
Because if you did I'd slip into the black hole
That I've labeled my soul
And get lost in there

Sometimes I get scared
Sometimes I cry
And sometimes I just exist
And let myself feel
And hope things will get better
Because sometimes
That's all I have to hold on to.