i can live without my feet. i can live
without anything that makes me carry on;
carry this pretty sweat of life on my hunched back.
every day i wake up and there's a new ache,
a new heartbreak to write about in the diary i burned when i was 17;

when i was sweeter and lighter and thought that drowning would be a nice way to die.

i listen to music to fall asleep,
until i get to the point between waking and the good stuff
when i slam my laptop shut and my brain says
right, now it's time to imagine you're dying, and everyone cares,
everyone is at your funeral wishing they were nicer to you when you cried over chicken breast and were in a whirlwind relationship with iced coffee.

sometimes i guess it's easier to pour the leftover ice from last night's gin and tonics into coffee. sometimes it's best to leave poems unfinished.

Messy
Not beautiful
A Something
And a lot of nothing
When time’s up
We make our mark
Or we don’t
The world watches us
Regardless

Hollowed out heart
A scoop for you Madam ?
All meaty, red & ******
It comes with a sprinkle of my emotions too

Take a spoon & have a taste
Do you feel me now ?
Or do you need the air in my lungs too ?
To feel my love.

Hollowed out heart
A scoop of ice-cream for you, Madam ?
All meaty, red & ******
It comes with a sprinkle of my emotions.

Take a spoon & have a taste
Do you feel me now ?
Or do you need the air in my lungs too ?
To feel my love.

She wished to paint with watercolors
because they bled all over the paper
Like her emotions bled all out of her wrists
but never out of her mouth

She wished there was a way to be beautiful
and still tell the truth of her messy, wild life

She was reaching for her razor blade
When the watercolors called to her
There is a better way
There is an easier way than this, they whispered
She wanted to believe it
but didn't know if it was worth the risk
didn't want to look weak

There was no pain involved in this new way
Only beauty bleeding from her heart
Instead of her skin
Was it worth it?
to leave paint stains rather than scars on her arms

I've always been someone who feels intensely.
Someone who notices the things that no one around them
seem to pay attention to.
Someone that sets focuses on the small things and
romanticize them to no end.
Someone who plays them in a loop on their head and
overthinks every detail.
Someone who creates expectations for everything around them
even though they know it'll hurt them in the end.
Someone with a never-ending inner battle
in between their heart and their head.
Someone with an everlasting lost look on their face who
you think has nothing going on up there.
But there's something.
A memory of every half-smile, every laugh,
every tear, and every frown ever felt,
emotions ready to creep back up into the surface again
at any given time. No warnings attached.
- whirlwind.

Just like in my life,
struggling so hard and rough
Disheveled woman,
uncombed decisions were made
Frightful head filled messy hair