Poetry

Briefly 

I am Briefly and completely 

All-consumed by an 

Immediate and horrific 

Rage 

At the state of my life 

At the state of life 

“And what do you do to soothe this ailment” 

Nothing. 

Why change my understanding 

My fleeting 

Unnerving 

Burning 

Hatred 

And passion 

For what is before me 

For what makes me, 

Me.

This crippling 

And violent 

Ferocity 

Which blinds me to all the 

 Colours of the day 

And fills me with nothing but grey 

In grey you see all, 

What should, what could, 

What must have been,

Once. 

I could never change that. 
Bask in the anger. 

Bask in the pure fury 

Of the moment 
For that, is truly
Me. 

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Poetry

Food for Thought

They tease you about how quickly you go through razor blades,

But fail to notice that you haven’t shaved.

 

Two, Four, Six, Eight – hours you’re supposed to wait

Four, Eight, Twelve – but there’s no more meds on the shelves

Three, Six, Nine – the number of pills you took this time

 

You’re an emotional crier,

But you haven’t felt a thing in months.

 

The life of the party, the loudest in the room,

You’re so fun!

Because no one can hear you screaming when you’re laughing.

 

The walls are closing in, there is no escape;

Only when you’ve been crushed do you realize the panic chord

Was in your hand the whole time.

Because can’t and won’t are two very different beasts.

 

You’re admirable for your strength, for your will – a survivalist –

Even while eating yourself alive.

Poetry

Character Customization 

Hydration.

Food.

Pills.

You build yourself this character:

One that wants to get better,

One that wants to inhale and feel

The life bursting through their pores.

Hydration.

Food.

Pills.

You are the architect of your own destruction,

And yet when your life is falling in on itself- 

Buildings brushed away by your own barbaric breaths 

Clouds unlike cotton, that roll like eyeballs and gape down at you before dispersing 

Because even clouds can’t stand what they see 

-You’re just as surprised as everyone else. 

Hydration. 

Food.

Pills. 

Monotonous, meticulous routines carefully rendered, pushed together and bound in place so, for the love of God, you can set your own pace. 

Hydration.

Food. 

Pills.

But this character isn’t a character at all, and the fact is YOU want to feel better. You want to BE better. 

But at this point, you’re no longer inside yourself. 

Waking up and falling asleep are all the same thing; the stretch of time from when your eyes open to when they close is merely a film you watch on a screen.

And you’re the one – the only – voice in the audience who can’t seem to convey a single message to the character that YOU created. 

Hydration.

Food. 

Pills. 

What’s the point? 

Poetry

Inner Me 

I want to leave you in razor blade handcuffs, leave you with the dare to get free
I want to fill your lungs with black and hold my hand over your face  
I want to carve your tongue from your face to flog your shoulders,

So you feel the lash of your words 
I want to cut you deep enough that from your veins 
I spill out

So when I look in the mirror my reflection is not you 
But me 

Poetry

Poltergeist 

Where did you come from?
This darkness inside me,
Beating behind my heart,
Shadowing my steps,
Echoing my words,
Thick. 
Not water.
Not oil. 
But ink.
Bleeding into me,
Through the pen of my fingers,
Bleeding. 
Through the pump of my chest,
The shadow that’s not mine,
The shadow that encompasses me,
Swallow- 
Whole-
So I can’t breathe- 
So I can’t get past-
So I can’t be- 
Me. 
The darkness you are, 
The worst I can be,
I’m haunting me.