BPD, depression, anxiety, confusion, society
we dirty ourselves before we can become
we bury ourselves in the ground before we become
crying alone in a room we wonder
nightmares clouding present thoughts
backward motion unsteady falling off cliffs
up toward the sky we look at the stars
sabotaged by our own knives
breaking through into
Lost in Transportation
we wrote to each other
through the stars
hoping their beauty would
show you how much
I loved you.
But all my words
or were lost in the expanse of darkness
you couldn't see how bright my emotions bled for you.
But then again maybe you did see and just didn't like the shade of red that ran along my thin skin.
Distance was our enemy
and love was our war
but in the end, we lost.
I was glass
clear on my intentions
of finding love
of WANTING love.
You were a rock
flying at me
shoving your emotions straight at me
but it wasn’t love you were flinging
causing me to crack only slightly
before you bounced off me and moved along.
(but what you didn’t know was that the glass, was my last barrier to my heart)
I knew that falling out of love took months
but I suppose this time I was blindsided
clinging to past realities
I am content now but there lingers this pain
the pain that I don't feel the same
because you have changed.
my heart grows weak
unable to withstand all the pushes and the pulls
when you started to play the guitar on my heartstrings instead of your own.
You keep turning on me
and I no longer feel secured and loved by you
only your lingering judgment and your hesitancy.
That's not what growing old together should look like.
We do not grow weak
we grow stronger despite age
I am falling out of love because I can't hold on any longer when you give me nothing to hold on to.
They say that colouration is a collection of dirt, a stain of purity
that the mixed are monsters, a sickly stain of purity
but I refuse
I refuse to believe that your heart holds a darker shade of red when you haven't done anything but breathe the same poisoned air as me.
purity and perfection are invisible standards held to masquerade the impurity spewed
and I refuse to let it fool me from the truth that lies underneath.
How do you say hello, when goodbye is around the corner?
I am moving with my body,
but my mind has not quite caught up.
Going to school and digging holes in the air,
getting jobs that shake me with vigour and cause my skin to dance with electricity,
moving out with the ability to stretch my arms out fully without feeling their weight, without touching the sides of my confinement,
and loving someone.
I continue to run into the future,
but you hesitate and draw back into the comfort of your corner,
and so I am left loving you, left loving a wall as you melt further into the concrete until your form is unrecognizable and I can't find you, I can't find the human I love.
Does my running scare you? When I reach out my hand begging you, telling you how much I yearn for your hand to slip into mine with ease,
to kick off together, running together to the unknown,
but you refuse my hand.
So I lower it and go on, walking.
But my mind has not caught up.
It is lost wandering the maze you have trapped it in.
How do I look at you again knowing you have held back your hand and regected my proposal? How do I look you in the eyes and open my mouth when you have glued it shut out of fear of being turned away forever? How do I welcome you back when goodbye lingers on our thoughts?
To the east, I shall fall
If the sun were to rise in the west and set in the east,
I find I would want to run with it's uncoordinated direction,
propelling myself into unconventional momentum.
I do not wish to follow the way of the world as it is now,
I do not wish realism, I miss the radical romanticism that possesses my heart and trails into my work.
If snow were to rise in solid formation towards the sky
I would want to rise with it.
I wish to stand tall
These daydreams hold me in lull with the poles
but I continue to feel suspended,
gravitating towards the earth following the right not the left, clockwise not counterclockwise,
and it feels wrong my compass feels off,
the needle bent from pressure,
it seemed I have always felt off.
when I met you it changed,
for once I was being unconventional with you
and I was happy
I felt free
I felt alive
finally floating upwards
chasing those dreams even if they set in the wrong direction.
But I am sedated and the world passes me by in proper directionality
missing the feeling you gave me
missing my daydream
where I could make decisions without doubt
now doubt restrains us
grounds us to reality
switching our thrusting to pulling,
maybe it is just growing old
and making substantial decisions
but I have slowed down
and my heart beats ten beats less than before
I am faltering
my compass is wavering
But maybe looking backwards west has always been my problem.
The sun does not rise in the west.
it will not rise no matter how hard I wish the light to bask me
no matter how hard I look into the past
I will not see the future
(it won't give me life just moments).
so I suppose I must look to the east
look up to see the snow fall so that it may rise again in another form,
I've been looking in the wrong direction
the direction that has been crushing my heart
confusing my heart, my compass
and it is time
that we look forward together
to not regret what we have left behind
but rather what will come of us
what will come of how we chose to embrace the constants, the unchangeable.
what will come is up to us
it is up to me
and the direction I shall chose to take.
Slamming thoughts through straight—a message to myself
to the people who tried to shame me,
do you ever wonder if it worked?
because I spend days thinking of all the hurtful things I said
I spend days pondering what I should’ve done
or how I could’ve been better
I spend days counting the days till it will finally be over
to the people who screwed me over
do you wonder if I’m fine
for I create clocks and fixtures in my mind to hold my thoughts hostage to specific times.
I wander through alleyways of these passage-veins that circle and circle throughout my brain
i create cycles of patterns looping round and round so that I will not forget
to those who laughed
to those that left
I am one of you
one who let go of human empathy to stick to the concrete sound of melancholy memories
drifting to haunting taunts
as I screamed at those who were inferior
at those who were crazy
at those who were hurting
at the one person I truly. loved.
to those who punish themselves
who create killing karmas to punish their own actions,
the truma will soon fade to a less frequent pain
the world is a terrible place,
but you have a lifetime to improve it
to believe in yourself in others
to those people
to those people who really need to hear it
I forgive you.