Sunday afternoon coffee

Hands bleeding
Holding on too tightly
To the fear
That creeps in
During the darkest hours of night

Fear
Of the crippling cracking pain
That resides in my chest
Each time someone
Takes pieces of me with them

Fear
That I am far too much
And not enough
And I will not stop
Bleeding

March 16

They say be comfortable in your skin

As if I know whose skin this is

As if I know something but the crawling sensation 

Something desperate to escape 

Where is the comfort in the lingering dull roar of pain

Begging to be bled out 

That dwells deep inside

This skin

That I'm supposed to be comfortable in 

It

I find myself
Seeing in color
Feeling warmth on my skin
And I think maybe this is really it
This time

Inevitably it grabs me
Like it has
Like it does
And it pulls me under
Like it does
Like it will

Solace

This emptiness
It haunts, lurks around the dusty corners
The parts of the mind left untouched
Sucks the air from the lungs
The life from the eyes

Dares you to feel
Anything but despair,
Desperation.
Hollow.
Hollowness in your bones
In your heart

I sit behind the bars in this hollow prison
I know the key rests in my hand
I am not quite sure what is outside.

What the fuck

Memories
Of isolation and confusion
Hopelessness; fear
Watching myself die.

Is there no peace to be found
No mercy to be begged for
No quiet time to be
To admire
To love
To be loved;
Wholly, fully, all-encompassingly?

Am I dreaming up reality

When I find it
Don't let me fucking lose it

Serendipity

A look at you to know life.
Love
For innocent eyes
Filled with excitement, curiosity
For waking to your stirring
Your love for almost everything
For timid steps
The softness and warmth
For the gazes upwards
And your need for safety and comfort
For the silly antics
And the way I could watch you for hours
For the nuances and demeanors
That I have come to know
For the overwhelming flood of joy and purpose
You have no idea you have given me.

Love
For what you are and everything you need me to be

Love
For those eternally unaware of their impact.

Nothing

I'm not sure why I have not given up

I have equipped myself with what feels like 

Just a bunch of fucked up bullshit

I can use it against anyone who doesn't love me

Or against the ones that do that I am convinced don't 

How the fuck do you even know

Does anyone know? 

Do we just go along in this stupid fucking cycle

Of heartbreak and hope and failed attempts at making something 

Out of fucking nothing 

It's all fucking nothing