Lost bearing, a bird,
Slams against window pane;
Nature’s guards forced down?

You’re so desperate for love that you latch onto the first person that shows you any kind of affection.
That is not called love, darling.
It is infatuation.
You sit in a web of lies, treating a person like they’re someone you despise.
You are not in love,
You are drowning in infatuation.
You are so obsessed with the idea of a person when you don’t even know who that person truly is;
And I may not know a lot about love but I know enough to know that that is not love.
So pour yourself another shot of ***** and complain about how no one loves you.
No one will love you because you won’t give them a chance.
Your idea of love is so warped, you do not own a person because you love them,
And they aren’t required to make you their world.
That is why you are in love with the idea of love;
And you are doomed to be in a relationship with infatuation.
You cannot accept your flaws,
To be honest, you probably never will.
You will live in a world being lonely,
As you cry, saying, “I just want someone to hold me.”
All the drugs in the world won’t take away your pain.
So, keep throwing your chances with someone down the drain.
Because you do not want a person to love you.
You want the idea of a person loving you.
But that isn’t what love is about.
You want all of the good times.
You can’t handle the bad.
You only want someone who only gives you attention,
The attention you didn’t get from your deadbeat dad.
So go home and be sad.
Manifest this life you wish you had.
But you won’t allow anyone to truly love you.
Because all you care about is infatuation.

I look in the mirror at a person I don’t recognize anymore. Prodding and pulling at my skin just to make sure this is who I am I only cake on so much makeup because this is the me I don’t want them to see.

So they don’t

They don’t see me and time is just running away and what if I can’t make them see me before time is up?

It’s not that I’m invisible, I know they can hear me and they tell me that really, I’m fine, and I’ve never been an issue but then why do I feel so out of place in my own day to day routines?

In fact nothing is routine anymore I have no constants. Eating, sleeping, it’s all ireggular and sometimes I can’t remember doing any of it at all.

I have pictures filling my camera roll of happiness in a moment that I can’t bring back, why do I keep them for happy if all they do is make me sad?

The clock is ticking and I can hear it but they can hear me so I can’t scream, they don’t see me but I’m tearing at my mouth trying to get out the words that I really want them to hear.

And they tell me, that it’s okay to be yourself.

But only around certain people. Because society wants you to have curves but never in the wrong places. They want you to feel free to speak your mind as long as it’s something that they want to hear. If you keep your secrets to yourself you’re hiding something and if you share them you’re being too open.

But time is passing.

I need time, I need routine, and I need to remember happy so that I don’t fall in love with sad because far too many do.
So I will scream into the wind where they cannot hear me.
And paste on my paper facade.
Someday, they will see me.
Now you don’t.

any ideas for a good slam poem?

These are not human beings
flourishing amidst their modern backdrop
of screens and social media
and likes and retweets and the like

These are not smiling faces
aboard the train on their daily commute
heading to the job they hate
so they can come home to the family
who doesn't love them

These are not happy marriages
packed with love and affection,
But more like a failure
just a worthless, shattered piece of glass
that we grind beneath our shoes on the floor

These are caffeine and adderall-driven bodies
holding guns to their heads
as they **** down a coffee
right after getting no sleep for the millionth night in a row
so they can go to work and contribute to society

Society that is cutting-edge
Society that is the greatest yet
Society like a train with broken brakes
Humans like robots

These are silhouettes
with their souls ripped out of them
These are dead bodies
murdered

Love them, love them. Your real friends and that namesake of yours.
Love them, love them. They are there for you answer your call at midnight, there for you to cross borders to meet.
Love them, love them. They, who gonna hool angry with you if you travel without them.
Not those, not those. They don’t meet each for months and they live in one city, no messages in the chat.
Not those, not those. Never gonna call you if you don’t, will never greet you if you won’t.
Not those, not those. Your opinion never match, nor will ever your hearts, that is a shame.
Search now, search now. Leave home, go out, hug strangers, let them be the first ones to ask of your name.
Search now, search now. Confront the wall you’ve built to have tea behind it with someone who’ll never come.
Search now, search now. Shut your heart up and go find people who share your road, and once you’re there, you better love whoever’s yours