I don't want to sound poetic when I say that I think I'm drowning.
I don't want to sound arrogant when I say that I would be better off dead.
There's only working and moving forward,
when the same fate awaits in different shades of red.
Nothing is worth striving for,
When it all fades away in the end.

Kill me, Kill me.

Untitled 5/7/2015

And I don't know if this is a poem, or a blurb a little too long in my head, but you're on my mind.
And I want to be able to reach out, call you over to me, pretend as though there aren't lines I have to dance around or enemies in your own mind I have to dodge.
I wish I didn't care what you think of me.
I wish I didn't need your touch to feel good, or your breath to feel worthy.
But I wish you needed me.
There are a thousand things I wish, and I guess that's what it all comes down to.
Wishing.
That things were different, better, useful, passionate, and inspiring.
I guess the bottom line is that I feel those things when I'm with you.
I guess the bottom line is that I want my life to be encompassed with those feelings, submerged down into the depths, unable to breath without the humming nature of feeling right.
You feel right.
And the rest of the time it's just like floating.
Waiting for the next wave or change in temperature just to confirm that these nerve endings still fire in your absence.
But your absences are long.
And I ache, ache, ache for you.
In a way that's like poison, because you're all I can think about and not mine to take.

One day you'll read this and think of me

You've crawled under my skin, made a home in my blood cells and crammed your way in between the beats of my heart. I'll try and sound poetic when I say that I hate you, that you've ruined me in such a casually cruel way that it makes me nearly insane. There's a million things that come to my lips when I see your name and open my notebook to see your half done drawings covering the surface. You are a slow bleeder and a tangle in my thoughts, worming your way into a crevice of my mind that is not open for the public.

The River

And she threw herself into the river. 
The ice cold greeted her greedily, consuming her nerves and feelings. 
There was nothing left but black and numb, and his words were echoing through her head.
Did he mean it? 
No, he couldn’t mean it. 
The world was dark, silent, finally at peace with everything that was pulling her to shreds. 
Her breath went over, choked out in her throat. 
Once. Twice. Thrice. 
She was succumbing, she didn’t care anymore.
And his words faded out as the ice waves covered her face. 
The darkness consumed her.