Life constantly pulls me along,
flowing like a never-ending tide.
Struggling is futile, as the current is strong.
I might as well stay for the ride.

The voices in my head
chewing up my brain
consuming what is me
and driving me insane

The predators pursue me
I run to stay away
but eventually they catch me
I'm their favorite prey

My own worst enemy
is always deep inside
self doubt and deprecation
masticating on my pride

I have no more self esteem
it's like I have been ******
pounded, tenderizing me
nothing left but bones

Simply a skeleton left
of my former self
I have destroyed all of me
through the loss of mental health

I am sitting in my bedroom on a fresh summer morning, and I am thinking about you.
I am sitting in my bedroom on a fresh summer morning, and I am thinking about how gentle your hands are when they run themselves over the steep curves of my body.
I am sitting in my bedroom on a fresh, and somewhat rainy, summer morning, and I am thinking about the burn I got my on thumb last night when I was making a hot chocolate, and I am thinking about how it doesn't hurt. Your hands are electric, your mouth sparks fires in-between my thighs and they burn and burn and burn, but they never hurt.
I am sitting in my bedroom, and it's a rainy summer afternoon with a cool breeze and I can hear the trains passing on the track nearby and I am thinking about you and all the ways we could be great. And how, for the first time in my life, I don't mind being burnt if it means I get to share these fires with you.

The strawberry milk boy. The lights are on but nobody is home kind of boy. The lost boy. There's something about his hands and how ever since that first spark you haven't stopped feeling the burning sensation on your thighs. Something about how every time you're rocking your body over his you want to whisper about loving him but never quite having the gumption. Something about knowing that it never lasts. Something about the broken glass on the kitchen floor and the way you always walk through it without shoes on. Something about knowing you'll get hurt and knowing it shouldn't be like this. Something about needing more. Something about always being the one to say sorry anyway. Something about the end.

I had a dream
that I lost you.
The night was black,
with bluish hues.
I searched,
and searched.
Screamed,
"Where are you"?
But you were gone
without a clue.
So,
I lay my head
on the grass filled dew.
When I looked up,
there were you.
Watching over me,
my ruby moon.