I Dare You To Write, Chickenshit

I wear matching underwear
which you will never see.
I used to shave, to be free from shame
but your hairs caught in my teeth.
From virgin swaddling cloth
to proud naked ape, walking tall
as gravity displays it’s rude power.

This lump in my throat
refuses to dislodge, so
I wear it like a velvet choker,

anxiety is the new black.

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Sometimes She Burns Me

Sometimes she is in your face
all the blazing color and heat
of a faraway star

Sometimes she burns too exuberantly
I warn her that she will soon fade
as I watch her
give all her heat away

Sometimes she is sleeping ash
pale and fragile and
I dare not disturb her
with a breath of gentle encouragement
lest her pieces scatter

Sometimes she is slow and black as mud
She reaches out like an ancient mammoth in a tar pit
I fear she may pull me into that thick suffocation with her

Sometimes she is next to me
Pale and childlike
needing my ear to steady her

Sometimes months pass of no consequence
I do not worry about her

Sometimes I miss being needed
and scold myself

Sometimes she speaks in rhyme and song
and her jokes go on just a little too long
Her eyes are too wide her lipstick too red
I fear being swallowed by that smile but
she dances just out of reach

Sometimes a shooting star crosses my path
and I wish for her eternal sun

Diary Entry 2/2

How did you get footprints on the walls?
Was it while I was sleeping?
Did gravity turn like a rubix cube, leaving me behind?
No one must ever find out. The awfulness within.
If only we could shed our skin.
Hardened bitter scales traded in for vulnerable soft new beginnings.
I’m scared.
I’m separate.
I’m alone.
Paranoia sticks it’s foot in the door. Something wants me to give up.
Dizzy with mental torture.

I wish I could cry.

I am the Tar, Baby

I have tainted this place
with my depression
Painted it with sticky black tar
suffocating the once glowing white room

Put a bitter taste in the air
heaviness collapsing
this shelter inwards
Like a slow poisoning
a dark possession
It struggles to fight

I hang on to the
small white patch
of hope, yet untouched
I try to clean the thickening walls
searching for the future
beneath the present

It sticks to my hands
and climbs my arms
Reaching strong black ropes
up around my throat

My skin can’t breathe
I can’t breathe

It has consumed me

Nothing Left But This

I make coffee
to kill the boredom
fill the empty mind
jumpstart the heart

I take pills
to escape time
quiet the mind
deaden the heart

I smoke
to avoid time
ponder poisonous thoughts
tighten the heart

I shower
to cleanse the sins
festering in the mind
soothe the burning heart
rinse the blood
from my hands
by my hands

I go to bed
to summon filth
from the mind
make the heart race
and the body ache

So I can sleep.

No, Nurse.

Are you ok?
No.
But there is fucking nothing
anyone can do
So just don’t ask me.

You don’t want
to hear anything
other than yes.
I am just a job to you.
A checkbox.
A piece of paper.

You draw me in
with caring eyes.
But I am discarded
as soon as I walk
out that door.

I disappoint you
with my repeating tears
of torment.
Just a face
in a sea of nutcases.

Your hugs are only skin deep.
My embrace
leaves part of me behind.

She Looked At Me

She wants to weigh herself
but only weighs her sorrows
Heavy as a burdened beast
every step a wrenching strain
Getting nowhere, causing pain
The door swings open with a cry
no ones waiting for her outside
She is a melting candle
dripping acid, it burns
holes in her jeans
now she is trendy in her despair
Her clothes are too constricting anyway
the strait jacket of society
Let her be naked
look at her scars
Stark cold white pink
This is She