Tip head back

Let the light beats roll over

They don't strike hard

But heart thumps heavy to their time

It's sad, this song

But for some reason I laugh

It's dark, not funny 

But in a way I understand

Not like others

Not like in class when dark subjects 

Get brought up

And you can see discomfort

In their eyes,

Hear in it in the way they speak

Naive, innocent

Yet with words so pointed it hurts

But you laugh on all the same 

Then feel in it the way they carry themselves 

Knowing

They don't understand it,

Not at all

Not in a way that creeps into the crevices

And eats your soul alive

Not in a way you can drown in,

Too tired to fight back 

Not in a way you laugh it off in class

But in a way

You know it so well that you have to laugh

When you realise others

Know that feeling too, they see the meaninglessness

Of it all

And it's sorta funny in some dark way

Maybe

Or maybe it's just sad, me and that person

Struggling

In such a similar hopeless way 

Knowing it's too dark to see

But also that the ones with the light don't need it 

So I let the folds of the music 

Swallow me whole without a fight,

Goodbye day, hello night 

Some numbers make sense:

Natural numbers, whole numbers-

Numbers you might count with in life,

Rational numbers, perfect numbers-

Numbers that still make sense, right?

But then you get to the weird ones

Real numbers are here

But I can't remember what that's all about 

Because the only thing I can hear in my own head 

Is "Then what is an unreal number?" 

Ridiculous, isn't it? 

I miss the days

I could choose to procrastinate

Because

Now I have no choice but to do so;

I wish I could return to when

There was 

Only a nagging, a snag on my consciousness

Whispering,

Saying "You can't,

You shouldn't, you're not good enough;

Don't you think you should think about it more?

Improve until you're ready?"

Instead of now

When it rips the air from my lungs,

Breaks my ribs, cracking as is sits on my back

No longer a whisper, but a fearsome shrieking menace;

It jeers out mangled words, things too bad too say

But thanks to my torn eardrums

And even more shredded everything else 

I can't repeat them anyway.

You were always 

A little smarter

A little older, a little more talented;

Always won first, while I got second 

Sure I envied you

For having a family who cared

For getting the education I always longed for

For just being so much... Better. 

And I wonder if that ruined me

Twisted me

Made it so I feel nothing when you talk

Abut your anxiety to me 

I should feel something, right?

I have chronic depression, crushing anxiety

And so much more

Normally I empathise immediately, but not with you. 

I wonder, has my jealousy warped me, broke me

Into a monster who can't feel anything

And turns a deaf ear, a blind eye out of pettiness

Is it bad that I want to blame you and say "You did this, you made me this way" 

All the while I know the problem is really me, deep underneath.

I don't understand

How a human being can

Always simultaneously

Be uncaring and so fussy.

And for that matter, it's not the only way

That contradictions show up in what we say.

And what we do,

And what we teach,

What we learn

And what we preach.

Like how we engage in passive protestation,

But winning fake gunfights makes us shout in elation.

And we are taught by role models to "always be patient,"

Those same people scream for action to be taken.

And they talk about people in hunger and in need,

saying brave words as if they are blatant,

but turn away if they see someone begging out in the streets.

What is lies, or truth, or just misinformation?

What that I hear is fantasy or non-fiction?

Why are there so many contradictions?

Dark

Dark is everything.

Even if

I take out my blades

And slash 

And rend away at these

Shadowy chains,

Nothing seems to get brighter.

They suck the light

The light out of my eyes

My mind

They cut out everything good from me

As if my daggers

Mean nothing at all

As if my shrieks  

Are nothing but the wind

Whispering 

As if nothing I do

Will never 

Matter

I will never be free.

I will never be happy.

I will always be stuck.

Here in the dark,

In these shadowy chain. 

I will never escape. 

I see the scarlet painted

On these roses

I laugh 

They're crushed within my fist

Thorns draw blood

I don't care

Did they really think this would keep them safe?

I don't know if I like the ending of this, but here it is anyway.

boardwalk ii

i went back to three months ago last weekend

so much is different

but it was almost the same

just nicer weather

i wanted to tell you i loved you under the fireworks

but i didn’t

of course i didn’t

we had no idea you hated fireworks

you looked so nervous the whole time

i wanted to take your hand

but i didn’t do that either

singing along to love songs on the radio

you don’t know i’m thinking about you

glancing at your grey eyes

that i swear were green last week

waiting for a moment that’ll never come

looking for something that isn’t there

that’ll never be there

when you wrap your arms around me

and ask me if i’m okay

i tell you “yes”

even though it’s so far from the truth

i hate that i let myself hope

even for a moment

that this would work out

because i know it won’t

i know

but i still sit here and write these poems and wish

i can’t help it

and if you took my hand and we walked down the boardwalk

together

i wouldn’t even mind if it was raining 

You call attention to this world we live in,

I turn my mind elsewhere.

I'm trapped in this world 

I cannot connect to, where things happen out of my control;

But alas, even a world I do control,

It all quickly becomes out of my control

Soon enough, it's only right

It's only real

Even if it hurts, and people do horrible things

To hurt each other, which eventually hurts themselves

And everything in the ends burns,

And I have to abandon that reality too.

I'm stuck always abandoning these places

That got too serious, that I don't want to see anymore of

And turn my gaze to the next one

Only to eventually see it crushed before my eyes again. 

I'm sick of it. I'm tired of it. 

So I turn my eyes to somewhere else,

There's nothing else to do, I'm afraid, 

Than wonder if anything will ever get better. 

I wonder where my words

go when

They're chased away by

others'

Louder, pushier words.

They crowd me out,

Rob me of sounds,

Banish me and my thoughts

to silence;

Force my words to the grave.

Now only reluctant spectres

remain,

Hesitant to appear

And eager to slink

back to the earth

At the slightest movement or

Sound;

Darting away,

Disappearing away

from this harsh outside world

And back to their cold empty

dark burrows.

They will be safe there.

But because they're so far

from this Real World

--So far that this World can't

reach them--

They're also too far from me

to use 

And thus, I stew in silence

instead.

Such greedy words.

But isn't it said that words

reflect their master?