You are so much more

didn’t appreciate you as much as one might
And maybe you might want to blame me
And I hope you do because it is my fault

It is not your fault that you let me in and I couldn’t keep my door open enough to let your light in

It is not your fault that you felt so deeply for someone who makes webs out of people and fights to weave through it when the person packs up and flees

It is not your fault that you are choosing happiness over heart ache, if anything, isn’t that more rewarding than going to bed wondering whether someone is going to leave or not?

You are a strong light, not just a strong shoulder for those who can’t always feel.

You are not a sponge even if it seems like you just keep soaking and your heart keeps growing

You are not the broken promises used to build you up and destroy you lower

You are not the pain you feel or the people who try to take your good things away

You are you, you are yourself, you are a good person

You are doing what’s best for you and you will get through

To you, CinFox.

I see, or so I thought I saw
Something less but something more

I saw, or so I think I saw
Something more out of something less

And I saw what I see now and I see what I saw then
Out of something less came something more

Chaotic Technicality

Music I listened to while typing this poem out:

Without You – Oh Wonder

I didn’t want to push, rush the chaos                                                                     Oh good old chaos, destruction                                                                           reconstruction of this mind digging torture

You know, no one can drill in                                                                                 deep where there is only surface now                                                                       so get chipping away

Use your best tools and your latest techniques                                                 mine are so old and as concrete                                                                                     I don’t worship things anymore                                                                               but I like the idea that I’m already                                                                           creating a home for myself

After I leave this dreaded head space                                                                           I walk around so weak and I used to                                                                     appear quiet because I didn’t want                                                                     people to know about me

Now I trudge around dragging my demons                                                       along my skin for people to see but                                                                             I don’t bother with quick answers

Conversations, I love those. Intellectual                                                             spill your cries and what makes you cringe.

I live for what’s holding people back so                                                                     I can compare my pain I need out,                                                                             so maybe stop digging now and                                                                               just throw yourself ontop of me                                                                             while my body sleeps and                                                                                         soul drifts towards the bottom

Hospital Corners

Like a hotel, our bodies are being rented out                                                   temporarily I squander around                                                                                       for rooms that aren’t occupied                                                                                       but every spot is no longer vacant.

As I round the corners, slightly folded                                                                   into eachother like a hospital bedsheet                                                                       I realize that I don’t have Schitzophrenia                                                                 but I have conversations with people who aren’t there

Are they? Maybe they’re all the versions of myself talking to people they used to know.

Friends, but I love you

I’ve realized that through talking to people and even friends in general, that I care about you so much because you come up in general conversation.

I could be talking about somethign that has nothing to do with you and all of a sudden you’re coming from the back of my head to my frontal lobe.

That person I converse with could be talking about their feelings towards someone and if I can relate, all of a sudden my feelings that I forgot I had for you, come creeping into my heart again.

I’ve also learned that sometimes someone else will come across my mind because usually sometimes if I’ve felt something for that other person before, the feelings I have for you, are reminding me of that and vice versa.

We’re just friends but that doesn’t stop me from caring about you.

bue.

 

I’m actually in a good mood and I want to document this moment because it’s rare that I actually write about my feelings instead of how I think I’m feeling.

I feel warm and soft and sweet. I actually care and it’s taken me years to realize that I’m not the thoughts that come rushing at me in the middle of the night.

I’m not the invasive panic attacks that hit me when I’m out in public doing literally nothing but walking around or sitting down.

I am this person who has allowed their thoughts to win against their heart.

I am this person who is very good, but prefers to self project their insecurities on to people and attempt to push them awya before they can run off by themselves.

I’ve placed so much dwelling and hatred on my past that I literally have been living in it. Some days now, I’m out of it walking around with a new head and a fresh start.

I’ve come quite far, but I still have things to do, things to work on and places to be.

No one can go back into the past, you can only move forward even if it hurts to move forward. I’ve held back so much that I’m getting to the point where even if I don’t want to let certain thigns go, I need to.

I’e bene holding onto the person iw as because it’s who I’ve been living as for my entire life almost. I’m not that person as a whole, just parts. I am someone else and that is okay.

 

 

Induced preventions

Ranting, screaming through my fingers but for some reason there is a block

Where, when why are there so many things stopping me, i’m allowing them to stop me, prevent me from simply waking up from my zombie-induced body bag

Simply trudging, walking, running through the subway tracks, hoping they’ll cave in and I’ll fall off the brink, edge shattered, sharp.

Just finding my way through the slow dancing legs the trees are waving to me, at me.