If you love something

starve it of attention and hope that it cares

    you make me want to start writing again
   almost

I wore my heart on my sleeve
but I gave you that sweatshirt of mine
in a box, when you left me

you cried and I did too

but I forgive you
you’ll just never forgive yourself

he said I can’t even pretend I’m not going to do every little thing you ask of me

we ignore the big things

he is the elephant in the room

I was never a writer
I was only in love with you

  You wanted a clean slate, I wanted a clean break
  We never spoke again after that
  Sounds good right
  We spared the tears
  It's been eight years
  I still dream of you

I had a dream we reached and held hands but our fingers didn't fit

Am I

i was born to be in this with you. it's so cyclical. we taunt until the other bites, we disregard until the other snaps. i used to think we were made for each. you were my other half, my soulmate. now you're a gaping whole in the puzzle, a square cut out of a quilt left to ruin. i wish you happy birthday, i selectively wish you happy birthday, i make the decision and stop wishing you happy birthday. you break my heart when it is just about mended again. i rope you back when you've finally gotten far enough. isn't it all just a game. was i just a sore loser?


night falls on your face and and i am raw like a wound. you're drifting and i am wide awake. i look out the window to my right, i listen for noises in or out of the house. sometimes you mother sleeps in the room behind us, sometimes she doesn't. i touch you just enough that i can get away with. i never knew if you felt anything about it at all.

“I just keep losing. I mean, some people just...are supposed to lose? For balance in the universe? I mean, like, are there just some people on earth who...are supposed to be here just to make it easier for the winners?”

Image I Create

"when I need to wipe my face I use the back of my hand.
and I like to take up space just because I can.
and I use my dress to wipe up my drink.
and you know I care less & less what people think.
and you are so lame. You know you always disappoint me.
it's kinda like our running joke & it's really not funny.
I just want you to live up to the image of you I create.
I see you & I'm so unsatisfied."

Jae is in new york. I'm in bed. my pillow mostly covers the blood. there's fight in his blood, and blood from his fight.
he's so soft, so tender. in each and every way.

Man

if I had a Man's entitlement I would be happy.
then again I would not be cognizant of this whatsoever and would in actuality be sad.

the noises you make in your sleep
remind me of the only thing I've ever loved
and make me believe
you could be the second

I guess that's why I named you after something
so special
and unexpected

The Kitchen's a Mess

my bed
still damp from the alcoholic sweats,
a fever that has us up until 2, and you getting out of bed exactly twelve hours after I did

I won't look back upon these years and laugh because I never did before
I know what is funny

my fingers, the joints tender and sore
the nervous cracking

Stale Green Lights

i get low key upset that he is in a patch of wildflowers on a mountain trail with his dainty girlfriend
(in our depression fueled laziness) you and i only leave the bed for work or a good meal
then i realize that i would rather sleep next to you any time of day than hike a fucking mountain

my plants live off of peach pear la croix dregs and i'm convinced they flourish because of or in spite of it
i am broke, but not broke enough to drink still water

my roommate is so quiet i am convinced she believes rent is only due if you make enough noise

of all the things lost on you, i think everything good about myself is what i miss the most

i had a dream last night that i fell asleep, and had a dream that you were in

and we gently waved at each other from a distance
when i woke up (in my dream) i got dressed in a foreign room and went to find you
to ask you if you were asleep exactly two hours ago, 7:22am, and if we had waved at least each other in your dream, too

my life lately resembles the spongebob episode where mr krabs gets coral squeaky boots for her birthday

no disrespect meant to ru paul, but you CAN truly love someone without being even close to loving yourself, and I have proof

remember, god is as real as anything else

taylor swift voted for donald trump 2016

Therapy

    Did you tell your therapist about me?

    Does she know that I am weak? Does she know how I am stupid?

     Does she know I can't sleep

we said we were sorry

  In my dream he told me that he did not know what I was feeling. For the first time in my life i responded that I did not know either.

I can't go home
I can't have things be weird with you

Catacombs

catacombs you dare not dare go
and you went as deep as you could
I don't regret that

Nothing and Everything Left

The year is 2017. Donald Trump is the United States president. I live on Martin Luther King Jr Way. Connor is my roommate, and I am sick of and jaded by his lack of independence. Bree is my other roommate and seems to get home after 6pm every day, microwave her popcorn, and watch shows wig her foot shut, she leaves for work before I get out of bed. She has a boyfriend or something, who I haven't really seen or spoken to. Connor is dating Christine, she's smart and informed, she's pretty, and talks with a unique drawl I am drawn to. Gaspar is doing well, he got fleas and Jae and I gave him a shower. I am no longer naive enough to believe we are not together. I have lost track of the number of months that he has been living here in my room. I don't mind, and barely attempt to keep a semblance of my privacy. It is unlike any relationship of any kind that I have had before. There is a distance and closeness that sway and balance beautifully. My friends are all doing well, Austin isn't really but I have faith that he will. I talk to Lizz every day and things seem to be as good as they could be. I go back home less. I see Alex when I do, I try to see Catherine. Leif has a girlfriend now, and I feel far from him. The tiny bond broken. I live in a much less romantic minestate constantly, now being in a relationship. Addison follows me on twitter, I made out with Blaine and haven't been thinking about it much since. Life can change so fast, and so slow. I like to think I shower more, I have a healthier detachment from food, I sleep a little more comfortable and sound. I didn't expect to meet someone so harsh and cruel, angry, at the world but not at me. He is so soft, a child like innocence in his voice and in his eyes. He doesn't scare me, but I feel powerless against his deep seated self loathing and torment. He seems fond of my innocence, the kindness I bring out in him, the selflessness. We flourish in knowing this is helping. He does my dishes, with the hands of my grandfather. I stare at the shape of his lips, the softness. He is calm, until he is not. My days are even shorter now. I struggle to clean, read, write, call people. Predictably a constant faint letdown feeling. The knowledge I am weaker alone I fear, but more of myself. He doesn't mind what I hate about myself, just like I with him. But he still hits his face hard, and I still fucking hate myself. How will this end? Don't we all wonder? Taking control is never having to guess, wait, or be fooled. I let the flow carry me like water. I let time get the best of me. I ran out of money so long ago. I tread in the water I convince others I float in. The only privacy, the only self that we have left is our thoughts, our deepest feelings kept save in our head. But computers will take those soon, too, and we will know the reality of having nothing.