I cannot explain all the pathetic measures
my eyes will take to avoid your gaze,
all the paths my legs will journey to avoid bumping into you on my way home.
All the ways I knead my hands to the bone and all the toothpick excuses skewering my tongue.
And I cannot explain the way your presence deflates something inside my chest.
I don't know what to do with all that empty space. It echoes.
I fill it with the thimble's worth of pride that I scrape together,
every meager flake of validation I pick from the floor. I shovel slopping handfuls of sawdust
to try and soak up some of the shadows
but everything dissolves in that oily void, green and hideous.
God, it echoes, and everyone hears it.
I muffle it with my radio silence.
I look at you and I see everything I hate about myself
under a microscope.
Every blemish, every scar, every gaping hole
that you lack.
Stop, look. Here. Wrong.
Hear?
I blind myself with radio silence.
I don’t know how to live with an eternal reminder that I am incomplete.
You, and the place you hollowed without even knowing it.
Green and monstrous.
It echoes and everyone hears it.
I love you, but I cannot explain my radio silence.

Who knew I could be so
L
              O
                              W
But so
                                   H
                      G
           I
H
at the same time?  

It seems like my emotions are chosen at
               R                                      D
    N                    

                                      A
            
             O
                                                M

Though peaceful is the life I attempt to live, to stop the harm I must forgive.

Sitting in the shallows, dwelling on the pain I've caused, inflicted thus so with little pause.

On myself I work so hard, yet setbacks they abound, eating me from within it seems, hope it gleams, but there sits my own reality ripping at the seams, collapsing all around.

Expectations undulating beneath my feet deep within the ground, it appears they cannot be fulfilled.

I'm stuck in the mud that is my own apathy, clawing at the earth trying to be free.

The question remains, why can't I just things be?

Uncertain.
So much to ask,
ceaseless pull,
moral questionability.
Uncertain.
Head is winning,
heart is spinning.
Run away, flee -
avoid catastrophe.

I look out my window,
and it becomes a mirror.
Warm, humid air rises from my heart ,
and clashes with the cold front of my mind.
Pessimistic thoughts whirl with optimistic feelings.
Confliction,
too heavy.
Condensation harmonizes discordance.
Droplets fall,
releasing unbridled doubt and hope.
Rain cascades
Wind whips.
Thunder crashes.
This storm will clear,
in parallel with my vision.