What torture it is
to witness love,
only from a far,
and never participate.

I find myself
writing about what
love should be
sharing cute couple
pictures with cheesy quotes
and yet still being alone.

I feel that I am doomed
to be the stenographer
of this little blue orb,
and all that lies outside its walls.
I document but never experience
I write but never feel.

My only regret is
maybe my one true whatever
has already come and gone,
and left me behind,
but wouldn't I know if I had
been in that one true
whatever?

And so, I will write on,
observe love from far away
and hope for my
one
true
whatever.

you can’t feel regret with a bullet through your head
you can’t wake up to the smell of stale *****
or see FAILURE printed on your forehead in the mirror
or hear your own thoughts that seem to be in such greater quantities than everyone else’s

it’s the best solution for a hangover
the cure for the worst headaches
an end to all thoughts that seem to be in direct contact with whatever makes your stomach twist
            your chest tighten
            your palms sweat
            your eyes well up

the list of pros and cons is dramatically lopsided
force yourself not to think of the look in her eyes when she sees you every other weekend
block out the sound of their laughter when it’s 3am and no one can sleep
put blinders on: see tomorrow
                          see the day after
                          see disappointment and regret and broken bottles
                          because sometimes you stumble

only then will you be able to give yourself the right answer
when you ask, “would that be so hard to walk away from?”

She was always strange and confused
in a state of ambivalence
where is God and where is my mind?
why can't I see what's in front of me? Why am I following my own destiny, yet also following the streets people paved for me?
She didn't want to wait anymore for reckless answers that didn't make any sense to her at all.
So
She walked in front of a train to see the end of her tunnel

How far into the church pew did you dig trying to find the person everyone believes you to be
How many bibles did you burn just trying to ingest something purer than your own soul
How many gallons of holy water did you pour over yourself and into your lungs trying to drown out the memory of her hands
Still to this day when his hands are around your throat you try to convince yourself it's God finally finishing what he started
When you were told God loves all his children they felt the need to add "even you..." at the end and maybe that's why you didn't believe it

Well I write poetry and post
It
I capture feelings in flows and yes I know this
But who am I?
Is NeroameeAlucard another persona I created?
Or me... The real me trying to escape it's mental containment?
I'm having a crises involving my self forged identities
it's alien to me to try to just be myself
when hiding behind my masks forged on feelings
But having to face the world without a mask?
that would be like Majora not having wrath

Sometimes I sit back
on my bed with an RHCP track
playing blocking out the world
then the voices kick in
"Why aren't you looking for someone?"
"Do you want to be alone forever or do you think that's a wise endeavor?"
I respond back that my confidence is gone out behind the shack stabbed in the back with a macabre machete the size of a horses ***.
that every time I get comfortable with someone now I flinch, waiting for my heart to get stomped out or chipped away
that's why I said for the time being alone I'll stay.

My head and my heart seem out of sync I think it's clear that I'm trying to focus on myself and trying to accumulate both mental and financial wealth and improving my physical health but my heart sees none of this it just wants to be cuddled and mollified and it's mortifying to me to fight this internal war constantly because I want to be free from my feelings and my past because every time I say they're gone they keep roaring back

Uncertainty
About you
About me

I need more
Praise
Respect
Love

Uncertainty
Do you love me?
Do you still want me?

Do I?

Its impossible to read the signs that you don’t send
1 hour later, two hours later

I can’t express to myself how much you care.

Do you even?
I’m uncertain