I've been waiting for this feeling to flow out of my fingertips
onto the tattered page.
My pen mocks me while it scribbles Words.
Just words.
*******.
Stop
Back
Again
My poetry is faded.
My brain's mind won't tell my body what it wants.
Pills
Alcohol
Regrets.
The world is always questioning.
Everyone shouts to me:
Everyone feels the way you do!
******* talk about it!
You don't know what I mean
What I want
you have no idea
you can't diagnose me
You don't know what my words even mean
They're foreign to you
So i hold my tongue
Bite at my lips.
Taste the blood
Eyes down
Okay.
Tell me who I am.
I can take it for a minute
Then go away
Let me be what you made me.
Selfish
Entitled
Superior
I'll sit in my makeshift castle
the master of my death.

Your sweetness has dissolved. Now all I taste is bitterness.

Your hands on my hips
Your eyes on her lips.

I'm heavy, so heavy.
I want to sleep,
curl up and weep.

My fingers fight their tingle
My lips become luscious,
and my cheeks, soft.

I'm warm
you're beautiful.
Please, speak some more.

I need to tell you something.
I have so many stories.
I promise, I'm funny.

Your hair is so soft.
Yes, you can give me a massage.
Your hands fit perfectly against my back.

I feel so dizzy.
Will you hold my hand?
I need your support to stay upright.

The mirror is betraying me.
I'm red and messy.
Where's the bathroom?

Your bed would be more comfortable.
You can stay too.
Just lock the door behind you.

You can tell them I slept on the floor.

A thousand miles seems so far
when you desperately want
to be on the opposite end
of where you stand
but are not sure
if that's where
you are
meant
to go.

We are all me.
   he makes up my emotion
she makes up my devotion.
     I am pieces of
           smashed glass
               haphazardly placed,
         half-***
               tried to make something
                                     beautiful.
      Each of us added to me.
    Each of us makes up a certain piece.
Does it pay to be cynical
                               critical
                              invisible?
Trying to care makes me
                    the same
                         as her.
                        and them.
                           and me.
        Trying to be me
        makes me, them.
      and unfortunately,
          we are all me.

You're beautiful.
Adrift on your own thoughts
you're phenomenal.

You dance as if you can fly,
using the wings on your soul
barely stopping to breathe.

You dream more than you sleep,
knowing what you can and will do;
Never stopped by life's shackles.

You're my confidant-
My strength when I struggle to live.
Your mind is remarkable.

But please,
you need to eat.

It’s like getting my fix.
It’s my life drug,
the drug I choose.
He is my addiction.
I wait for the high.
His body, his lips, his touch
is the substance I can
            never resist.
I feel good with him.
Better than I could
     ever hope. Ever
                     dream.

His fingers against
my skin, like fire. His
lips on mine, on
       every inch, is a
     euphoria
like none other. But
with every high comes
a low- a crash. When
      I’m without him,
God, when he leaves
my stomach drops, my
head aches, my heart
finds itself in ruins.
When I can’t get my fix
I feel like I could cry, die,
sleep for a hundred years.
I wait for my next
opportunity, my next
   moment to
        indulge in him.
            Risk for him.

Because everyone knows
I’m not allowed to have him,
Not supposed to long for him
      Indulge in him,
           lust for him.
They tell me it’s not right,
harmful for my mind and
emotions. I don’t care.
I tell no one, sneak and
     lie for him,
     for me.

I am a thief, stealing
what doesn’t belong to me,
taking what isn’t mine,
borrowing what I did not
       ask for,

only to get my fix.