What derails someone's success?
What propels someone's failure?
What settle's someone for mediocrity?
Someone does.
Alone,
Or with someone.

My vow
shattered on the floor
and with it
came an out-pour
of my blood.

I'm sorry
for what I've
done, will
you forgive
me, still?

I know
who you are:
guilt. you
are here to scar,
not wound.

The blade
was mine. I set
the timer for
failure; a clean
crisp one.

Envy tells me a story,
One, he was told by my friends.
He tells me about their happiness,
And how it never seems to end.
How their lives seem to be so perfect,
While I’m crumbling apart.
I wish Envy would leave me,
But he’s adamant to break my heart.

Envy whispers triumphs,
Another crushing defeat.
I should feel happy for them,
Instead, I feel weak.
This world is passing me by,
While I stand frozen in time,
Perhaps my chance to shine,
Passed long ago.

As I look in the mirror,
Envy tells me my inadequacies.
He points to the acne,
And the glasses on my face.
He isn’t kind to me,
And he calls me a disgrace.
I beg him to stop,
But he only laughs at my expense.
Oh, how Envy hurts me,
But, oh, how it makes sense.

The snare of comparison is tight around my neck,
It won’t come loose, it’s like a noose,
Except wrapped inside my head.
Like a rabbit in a trap, I’m trapped,
With no way to break free.
On those days, I feel, oh, so lonely,
I guess I have my good friend Envy.

Am I a horrible person,
To feel this way?
This envy is constantly darkening my sunny days.
I’ll just look at my word search, as I search,
For the words to say,
And how to say them.
While Envy watches and lurks,
With a subtle smirk,
As I break.
Oh, I envy…
I envy them.
My joys seem,
Arbitrary in comparison.

Envy keeps telling me his sweet stories,
As I consistently demean myself for not being so lucky.
He’s a poet, too,
And he knows what to do.
He never feels restrained or contained.
Envy, he’s crazy, but so captivating,
Showing me what I am missing.

A boyfriend,
I hope it goes well,
And doesn’t meet a bitter end,
Like many stories tell.
Junior year,
Only two more left to go.
When our paths veer,
Will I end up alone?
Envy’s torturous words,
Uttered with malice,
Gathered together like herds,
Feeling inadequate.
Like a knife in my back,
A personal attack,
Against myself,
Highlighting what I lack.
He paints me a portrait,
Of things I’ll never have,
Throw it to the fire,
And watch it burn to ash.
Gather all the remnants,
And add it to the stack.

Pain, heartache, isolation,
Stirred to the surface due to one emotion.
Outsiders might say I have no reason,
But this envy is just like an ocean.
Its waters are so frigid,
Not even Posideon could stand it.
Occasionally, there are ripples,
From little tiny drops.
They’re let out,
And it’s hard for them to stop.

Envy’s villainous gaze,
Would turn Medusa to stone.
I’ll be the lonely monarch sitting on his throne.
I’ll watch from my tower,
As people live in the world below.
Envy by my side, all alone,
In my merciless, envious home.

So, I’ll envy…
A fleeting sense of control.
I’ll envy,
The noose taking hold.
Envy,
My sweetest friend.
Envy,
The one who’ll stay till the end.
I can’t help but envy my friends.
He’s whispering again,
His voice overtaking my head.
I envy…
Oh, I envy them.

It's everybody's job.

Détente, rollback, middle-ground.

Working it until an internal weakness is found.

Surround the town with wire.

Eventually their voices will tire.

It does not work with fixed plans. It does not take unnecessary risks. Impervious to the logic of reason, and it is highly sensitive to the logic of force.

For this reason, it can easily withdraw—and usually does when strong resistance is encountered at any point.

row, row —row the rock, roll it up the hill
fall, fall —fall, fall —it tumble down on me
row, row —row it up, responsibility.
oh no, oh no —I failed at it again.
i try, i try —I always try my best
oh no, oh no — it is never enough

The thought returns,
like a shadow leaning across the room.
It whispers endings,
neat and final,
like closing a book.

But writing it down
is lighter than holding it.
The page doesn’t flinch.
The words don’t judge.

And here I am still,
breathing through the ink,
choosing once more
to leave the last line open.

nothing works right here
doors swell shut
lights flicker out

I give it all,
still feels half-finished
like a song cut mid-chorus

the people I love
leave limping
like I’m bad luck
that rubs off

so I turn cold,
keep distance,
wear silence like armor

meanwhile my body
is a clock with missing gears,
ticks, stalls,
ticks, stalls

still, I drag forward
through the static,
through the rust,
through the weight

my house hums with broken wires
every plan short-circuits
before the switch clicks on

people touch me and spark,
burn their hands,
walk away smelling of smoke

so I stay ghostlike
pressing mute on every connection
watching the ceiling peel,
watching time drip slow

my body’s an old machine,
stuck between stations,
buzzing static where music should be

still, in the noise,
I keep tuning,
hoping one day
the song comes through

I give everything I have
and it still falls short.
Like throwing rope into the sky,
expecting it to catch a star.

The people who care
always stumble here,
as if my presence
changes the ground beneath them.

I tell myself it’s safer
to keep them outside the blast radius,
to let loneliness
be the price of sparing them.

Meanwhile, my body
keeps writing its slow warnings
in pain,
in fatigue,
in the quiet betrayals
of flesh and bone.

Yet some part of me
keeps standing,
keeps trying,
even with gravity
pulling harder every day.

The house groans with my failures.
Every project collapses
like wet paper left in the rain.

People step close,
thinking they can hold me up,
but I’m a broken frame,
sharp edges,
too heavy to carry.

So I push them away.
Better they bruise at a distance
than bleed at my side.

My body won’t bargain with me either.
It runs on fumes,
bones creak like old stairs,
lungs dragging air like stones.

And still
I wake,
I move,
I make do,
inside this crooked life
that doesn’t quite fit.