real life

get out
why don’t i speak up?

mama called me destructive
said it’d ruin me one day

listening to the weeknd to calm down
sinking into a black hole but i don’t even know why I’m extraterrestrial
i wish i could write something to express the way music makes my blood flow
i wish i could dance or sing or scream
run a few miles
get it all out
instead i’m glued to this bed to this room to these people who i can’t even ask to leave because none of it’s mine

in the night she’s dancing to relieve the pain

i never write when i’m happy
i haven’t made a happy list in ages
i haven’t journaled in months
never blog unless i’m crumbling

get off my fucking foot
get out get out get out
maybe i’m the one who should leave
oh, a flair for drama – that’s another one of my flaws

she’ll never walk away

i’m going to implode
or explode
what’s the difference
(one hurts me, the other hurts us all)

i want to buy balenciaga sneakers but there are families weeping in sri lanka over their murdered loved ones, taken from this world the day their supposed savior returned to it two thousand years ago
did you know there are people who feel this way all the time?
drained and detached and like it’s never going to get better and in small instances like this where lack of sleep and drugs have depleted me i understand why some of those people choose to end it
it is utterly heartbreaking that an imbalance of chemicals in the brain can keep a person from ever feeling happy

enjoy your privileged life

i can’t even study because of the headspace i’m in right now
i need sleep
and to breathe
big deep breaths

have you ever driven over a bridge and thought about how easy it would be to die?
one little veer of the steering wheel, into the concrete barrier
maybe the impact would be enough
or maybe you’d soar beyond the wall and into the blue waters below
maybe that’s how it would end
i don’t think about it because i want to, but rather to remind myself how precarious and precious life is

it’s a false alarm

i want to drink to excess
need some release
i’m gonna break my knuckles while i wait on his bed
even drowning can be an act of mercy when you’re living in gray
how much dopamine does it take?
baby sometimes the screen can be left alone
sometimes the blood is just blood
no hidden meaning in the iron and plasma
(chemistry was never my strong suit)
we’re enough as it is

he has a polaroid of my bare chest tucked inside his wallet
along with a condom
“just in case”
bite down or bite up i don’t think it matters anymore
i feel like sometimes i try to take up as little space as possible
physically and in other people’s lives
why can’t the sky hold on to the rain like i hold on to this choking?

she ain’t got time for loving

stare at me all you want, i’m not looking back
who said love meant anything in the grand scheme of things
who said it meant nothing
there is always more to swallow
and to choke on
i’ll feel better in the morning.