I Unravel:
like a spool of thread
made weightless by the wind.
Once heavy as led,
now light without sin.
I’ll do away my worries
with one last resort:
seventeen stories
to cut my own short.
I’ve run out of ink
and my quill-pen is broken,
nothing I think
is worth being spoken.
I keep giving myself away to people who I know don’t care about me for anything other than sex.
I just want someone to sweep me off my feet and help me forget.
Forgive me Father,
for I have sinned.
I’ve swallowed my sorrow:
it stirs within.
Like salmon in spring,
it swims upstream;
spawns in my hopes,
nests in my dreams.
Like His crown
of vengeful thorns,
around my head
I wear my scorn.
Pin my palms
and soles of feet
to every promise
I failed to keep
I jumped into the deep end,
(first my head and then my feet)
I’m drowning in the water;
I’ve fallen in too deep.
I’m drowning in this bed,
and I’m drowning in these sheets,
my hope was once my life vest,
now I’m sinking in my sleep.
They say “Seek Salvation”
but I haven’t found it yet,
I inhale and I exhale-
I’m still struggling for breath.
I’m running out of oxygen,
I’m running out of air
I’m at war with the world,
but the world’s not fighting fair
I run my Cross across my skin;
seams come undone and seep out sin.
Sew it shut with fragile thread
Be still, the movement in my head.
I spin and spin: a roundabout
Balance? I will live without
a sense of where I stand and why,
I’ve tip-toed, crawled, and ran: I tried
I latched on: a lowly parasite
I found my host; feasted on life
I’ve had my fill, so I detach,
detach from life, to death I latch
In my final breaths:
I’ll exhale my sins,
and the promises I broke.
I won’t inhale them back in.
I’m sorry
I used to call you papa,
and you’d guide me to school
so that I could read on the way.
You taught me to swim
by throwing me into the deep end
and I kicked and fought until I could.
You taught me to live
by throwing me into the deep end
but this time, I let myself drown.
I’m sorry,
that you see her in my eyes
that you hear her when I cry,
and for shoving you that one time,
but you told […]
I want to pin you down
and kiss the breath out of your lungs
You’re perfect-
I mean it
To me, you always will be.
I knew that you were a beautiful person
From the moment I met you-
I could feel it.
I think-
you complete me.
The void is gone
when I’m with you.
Nothing hurts anymore.
I think-
I was wrong
It’s too much
You’re too much,
I just-
I want to be there for you,
I really do
And I want to love you
Unconditionally,
But
I’ve let you down
(too many times).
I know I promised,
but as you said,
I’m like the rest.
You should hate me.
Why don’t you hate me?
Just
Stop
Please
I think-
It’s better we never speak again
Had to write haikus for class, thought I’d share.
Glow-in-the-dark stars
Plastered on your room’s ceiling
We camp out on your floor
Tiny parasites
Feasting on flesh and blood
Pink polka-dot scars
Bundles of firewood
Tucked under thieving arms
Warmth at dawn
Before I banished your name from mine:
You fed me fibs and alphabet soup
You switched off my nightlight as I slept,
Your feather-locks ticked my cheek,
And your scent built a nest in my memory,
Perched like a bird of prey.
When you left,
I left letters on the ledge.
Shatter my heart a thousand times
I’ll pick up the pieces and offer them to you
I don’t need you-
to feel whole,
to fill holes
(in fact, you leave me empty).
I had pins and needles
in place of feelings,
and a pill-pack
in place of friends.
Eyes open but not seeing;
you blinded me.
Numb to pain-
too pained to feel
LEAVE ME ALONE- I beg of you.
I stomp you into soil
and planted you.
You’ll never grow,
but I will.
I don’t need you-
I feel terrible for pushing him away; for the way I push and shove and keep him at a distance.
I’ve done this dozens of times. He won’t let me do it to him, he says. I laugh because they all say that.
I self-destruct. I don’t know what to do with my pain, and so I turn it back on myself. I make them leave, then I tell myself I deserved it, that it was bound to happen.
It’s been three months. Three months of calling me beautiful, inside and out. From stopping my wounds from bleeding out with his bare hands. Telling me he can handle […]
One faucet, two hands
Ten fingers-
sinful digits scrubbed with soap.
Each protruding knuckle rubbed raw
thrice, until the thoughts still
(still, they do not)
I drown my palms-
dirty and defiant
in the freezing stream
(numb your skin;
numb your mind).
When I am finished
I count to nine
and start again.
(Not a poem this time, I just need to rant)
I’m a size 8. I still feel like a size 18.
I wear a medium shirt. I still feel like a size XXL.
I look in the mirror and my face bloats.
I hate my eyes. I hate my smile. I hate the dimples in my cheeks. I hate my lips. I hate my chin.
It’s been getting worse lately and I don’t know how to stop the skewed perception I have of myself.
I go to the gym 3-5 times a week, I do yoga, I eat healthy (I’m vegan ffs) yet I still feel disgusting and guilty everytime I […]
(Assignment from one of my classes. I had five minutes to write this so it’s not my best)
I’ll never write about your
fastened locket, feather locks
hair up high and floral tops
silky skin and warm embrace
your voice your laugh your fucking face
your hands and how they’d fit with mine
your telling tales and wasted time
the tethered rope, your naked neck
I said I’d never write,
and yet-
You sewed your secrets
Into my skin
So when my seams come undone,
I spill your sorry words
This is pretty different from my other posts (as I usually post poetry), but I was feeling it so I figured I might as well.
One of the things that can be found in my top-hat of issues is body dysmorphic disorder. Basically, this means that most of the time, I have a warped perception of myself.
I lost weight rather quickly in my senior year of high-school (250 lbs to 180 lbs), through exercise and healthy eating, and for some reason I thought that the weight-loss would solve all of my problems. It didn’t, and created new ones. My jeans said size 8, and my shirts […]
I could feel you slipping
(I can always feel them slipping)
Away from me.
It was slow and silent,
the way you faded.
You dropped my hand,
(for it was too calloused)
And dropped my heart
(for it was too heavy)
You kissed my cheek,
and not my lips.
The night before you left,
I engraved my memory into your skin
with my fingernails.
If I could, I’d fasten my arms around your waist,
And sigh my sorrows into the nape of your neck
Until my sadness becomes a part of your skin.
And if I could,
I’d scream, breathe, whisper your name,
Until my voice becomes a part of who you are.
If I could,
I’d hold your hand until you don’t feel right
Unless my fingers are occupying the spaces between yours.
If I could,
I’d make a home out of your sheets
Until your mattress holds my shape, and you can’t expel me from its folds.
Don’t forget me.
It seems as though a lot of people on this website talk about needing/wanting somebody to listen, maybe offer some outsider’s insight, maybe just have a conversation about anything other than what’s making them upset.
I’d be more than happy to chat with anyone who just needs a friend.
My kik is DayQC18, comment if you’d prefer some other type of communication.
Best of luck, friends.
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