Ah DND, the wondrous world of fiction
While that may be nice for you
My favorite DND is do not disturb
That way when I don't get a response, it doesn't hurt as much

I haven't published in so long
I haven't texted in so long
I haven't been
I haven't done

Do not disturb
Mute everything
No one responds anyhow
Or reaches out

Well, of course when they need something
I was about to send you a song
And while I may not have self worth
I know you WONT be worth my time, or anyone else's

So I wrote this instead
And Alyssa if you're reading this

*******.

You aren't reading this
You aren't doing anything you want to
Other than make me hate you
So it " hurts less "

What a mess
With no one to clean it up

Who in the hell is moving our game pieces
We need someone new

I need someone that isn't you.

P.S. This wasn't right

I don’t know how to say that I’m not okay
Without feeling like a burden on someone’s day
I think other people feel the same
I think it best to keep my words in a safe
Do you see the state of the world?
It’s a stage that’s all burnt
All’s broken and nothing works
Look at our leaders
Gaining it all at the expense of all the teachers
Look at my features
I think that I’m a four maybe at best a five
And yet I wonder what the hell am I doing alive
I feel like I’m a waste
When there are others who would love to be in my place
As if I don’t know that.
I’m not good at anything
Or at least not something profitable
But I won’t dare send myself to a hospital
If it ain’t something painless
I’m not gonna spend life making payments on my medical fees
I’m not at ease
The woman in the mirror’s saying “help me, please”
But where do I begin?
I know it’s something I must do from within.

The soldier waits ...
With rifle unaimed
With bullets unfired
With bayonet unfixed
With uniform unknown
With boots untrodden
With rations uneaten
With canteen unrepleneshed,
With words unspoken
With letter unread
With locket unopened
With face unseen
With dreams undreamt
With life unlived
With love undiminished,
For a grave to be dug.

love will not because it cannot

heal it has no cough drops
chug it like syrup and you will retch

dance it neglects its limbs
tangled bruised an epoch of breakage

smile its teeth are blackened sugar
liquorice diabetes thick as sharpie night

be because it isn't
anything more than a mask
for lustful, ill-born fright.

I accidentally skipped 2 pages -
I have to go back,
a clean mess,
unabided,
I write something
and try to hide it.

Is it better if I rhyme it?

Well, I can't help myself,
it's like spotting patterns
in the stars,
once you've seen it,
there they are,
the beauty spots and scars.

A cliffside, strewn with wrecked cars.

But up it climbs,
smashing rhymes,
rattling the bars
of my cage
as I step out on to the stage
of the blank page

Avoiding the trap doors

It's filled with an opportunity
though, sometimes,
a sense of dread.
It can be a clear window,
dreaming futures, summoning
the dead

Bars become lines on the page instead

I use what imprisons me
to set me free;
locked in a lexicon,
I can breathe,
the blank page
is a forest of falling leaves

Where I can hear the echos of my screams.

So don't waste it.