no, you are never enough. and all those "i love you"s

were phrases in the form of coins (you were the only rich

a man never wants to be), constantly you throw them into your

wannabe lover's well of romantic fantasies; but this wish,

will never come true for you because you are not enough,

nor you never will be. so even though you just wanted to be

a person someone takes their earbuds out (because they

actually care what you have to say instead of nodding), that

doesn't mean you ever will be. because you do not get to feel

the beauty after a waxing, you are nothing but the wax that burns the

person-you-pine-for's skin; they're screaming at you 'cause you

are not nor will ever be worth the pain to them. and yes,

you are the definition of agony and loving you would be a

monstrosity, because if you mean nothing one to anyone then,

why would they dare to love and care for you? no, you are not

enough to be loved and you never will be. so throw away

that weed (just as they did with you) you're using to count hopes

with because the answer is clear, right here: no, they love you not.

and take your tears and collect them in a dirtied jar (do not waste

the clean ones); pour it into the lake off the highway; pluck out

your heart; carve it into a million pieces; then drop the damn thing

in after it. since no one will ever love you, why hold such an organ

that simply wastes space? so no, you weren't enough. you are not enough.

you will never be enough.

I've waited for years on end

I've killed my heart plenty of times for their happiness

I've been stabbed for so many years

And I'm always left in the same place I started

Alone and in pain

Everyone always left me to rot

Everyone always left me to die

And I let them

I should've done something

I could've done something

But everytime someone new comes along...

They just try to break me

And it must be so disappointingly easy

Because I let them

The worst part about being betrayed

Is that it never comes from your enemies

An elderly woman lies in a snowbank,

Walking home from the food bank,

Trying to provide for her 40-year-old son,

Freezing outside, while he looks for fun.

In 68 years, she never caught a break,

Life never gives, only takes,

As she lies there on the cold hard ground,

She cries indignantly, but no one hears a sound.

Your skin is ashes,

and you hands as cold as stone.

I beg you to stay.

Words are worthless when

your body lays before me,

your soul far away.

first i thought

you’d distract me from drowning,

i thought: let him,

someday all goes down

and i’ll be gone.

but then i realized

you held me,

you really kept me

above the surface

all along.

now you losen your grip,

you’re letting me go,

in your eyes i’m just another girl

you taught to swim.

but i’m a wreck, i have cracks,

i’m not ready,

it was so lovely

and you’re slipping away,

i want you to stay.

Where are your hands?

i’m sinking

i’m sinking

i ′ m

s i n k

i n g.

A smile bit at the corners of her lips

a million thoughts flying through her mind

yet not a single one was about the essay

that her friends assumed she was worried about

No, she was thinking about the coolness of water

as it submerged her deeper into darkness

she was thinking about the roughness of a rope

that wrapped around her neck when she stepped off

she was thinking about the pop of pills

that would take her away from this world

because she didn’t mind the idea of dying

because anything was better than living in this nightmare

that people dared to believe was a dream come true

And she was thinking about the shiny little blade

that she ran across her wrists, just so that she could feel something

something real, just so that she could say she was still human

as little red beads of crimson dripped and shined from her skin like rubies

And she pulled her long sleeves further down

hiding the scars that shot across her arms like shooting stars

because they were something she was supposed to be ashamed about

and the thought of being called an attention-seeker killed her inside

because depression was just something everyone had

it was just a phase

So when she cried herself to shreds at night

choking on her own sobs

all she could think about was the word liar

Because her friends told her she was just lying, that it didn’t matter

they told her that the problems she had would pass

even though the weight in her chest never went away

and her thoughts became even darker than before

and she kept telling herself it will pass

she kept telling herself that she was making a big deal out of nothing

she kept telling herself that what she was feeling wasn’t valid

even as the screams of the little girl inside her

told her that these were only lies to keep her afloat

and each day kept dragging her farther and farther down

and she kept forcing herself to smile in front of a crowd of people

who never really cared about her at all

and this cycle kept going on and on

until finally she collapsed from the weight of the world

Because isn't it better to just let go?

and she asked herself this as the night wind whipped around her

as she stared at the crashing waves below

and thought about the freedom she'd feel with letting go

because it's not like anyone really needed her

she was just a waste of space

the wind wove its fingers through her hair

as she recalled the letters she addressed to her family sitting on her desk

everything was ready for her to leave

all she had to do was let go

and she did

tables scratched with names

smudged ink of fantasies and strangers

secrets that faded out with time

and hides in the depths of our memory

a thousand stories that never got to happen

i wonder if you’ll find yours

scratched in with fingernails

hidden in between the rows of desks

scratched hard and deep

on the table i used to sit at

the chairs were dented, and the

light tan was repainted a darker brown

i could still see the places

with streaks and scrapes and gashes

they smelled of oak and heavy promises

leather-bound books and quiet heartbreaks

the way the seats were arranged

remains untouched, nostalgic

and i’ll never forget the day

when yours became an empty space

the dark green chalkboard, used to be filled with words

that we tried to decipher, the summer of 2020

i could almost hear the sound of chalk against wood

that once replaced the rhythm of the clock

which now hangs on the wall, stayed in the date of 2017

what used to be covered in chalk now sits clean and empty

but stained with our ghastly white fingerprints

do you remember? that night, raining red chalk

something changed, and i know you like to pretend

it never happened, but i still dream about it every night

windows were opened and the silent wind

tasted like peaches and cotton candy

dark chocolate and a field of wild flowers

your favorite tastes and your favorite perfume

we used to stare out the window

our gazes meeting in the far horizon

pastel sunsets, lifeless trees, worn-out buildings

wishing time would go by faster

i looked through the windows one last time

the outside world continued to stay the same

so what changed? tell me it’s my fault

i sat down in the seat

that belonged to someone i

promised i tried to forget

but how could i, when you

gave me so much to remember?

so many reasons to live?

years later

the same classroom

the same stories

the same fucking lies

i sat in your seat

& cried and cried

for what seemed like the first time

ever since you left

and i never knew how to cope

when it didn’t feel anything like falling

but holding a gun against my head

and hoping you wouldn’t pull the trigger

so i guess time has decided to stop

in this one place: room 815

all i ever wanted was to sit across from you again

even if you never knew

but that one night was too long

and a lifetime will never be enough

in your seat

i finally saw

for once

what you were seeing for years

and i think i understand now

why you had to leave

- deathetix

her words were like red wine

thrown on my party dress

when i was in the hospital

she looked bewildered

at the schizophrenics &

she has so successfully

avoided those genetics

they said i was

named after the song Alison

by Elvis Costello

the years between our births

to an alcoholic

makes those lyrics tangible

the red wine our

mother threw at us

was never poetry

it was just blood

when i listen to the lyrics

of sad songs

i think of her face

when she saw my hospital gown

we are all grown up

Beverlie’s eyes were blue. That’s really all we knew.

She could hear and understand, but could not participate. The constant thought I had was how true it is that the eyes are windows to the soul. I could see through her eyes of baby blue.

Full of emotion with no hope of expression. One day melts into another. Days turn into weeks and months and then years, she remains stuck in her living shell, unable to move.

“God please take me home, why did you leave me this way”. She cannot say it, her heart cries out but her lips don’t speak. She’s stuck inside a body that betrays her.

She can hear life all around her and she lays in bed motionless except for a beating heart, breathing lungs and seeing eyes.

She can’t even tell you what she likes to eat. She can’t tell you if she’s too hot or too cold or that she has to go to the bathroom.

The hands on the clock continue ticking as they always do and life goes by for others as usual.

She is all alone inside this body that refuses to listen to her will and her hands freeze, nails digging into her skin and cannot cry out. It hurts and no one knows.

Her children visit and bring flowers that she can’t touch, longing to hug them and can’t.

Looking at the flowers, thinking about what a good mother she was to receive such a beautiful gift and again blue eyes well up, full of tears now sliding down her cheeks. Two daughters and a son, loving them, but unable to express it.

Simple things amused her, I loved her giggles, still able to smile her face would light up.

I knew her so briefly and I could see her reality. I spoke to her often and I could feel her through her blue eyes. She could both hear and understand, this was clear looking into her eyes. That was the sadness of it all.

I thought of her today. She had blue eyes. Beverly had blue eyes. ❤️

02 May 2019

Musings of a post menopausal insomniac mind

You still worry about all the mistakes you’ve made

For any other life you’d instantly trade

You can’t hold back your screams and your cries

So you direct them at others and cut all your ties

You can’t forget all the times that you’ve failed

The people you hurt and the darkness you inhaled

You held on to all the times that you’ve been hurt

The actions of others and the blood on your shirt

You can leave the places and times behind

But never really get them out of your mind

You can laugh and carry a fake smile

When your state of mind is really so fragile

You can’t stand to be around people anyhow

Since the people you know can’t talk to you now

You can hardly remember when things weren’t so bad

And maybe your anger and sadness is all you’ve really had

You wake up still holding yesterday’s fear

That all you can think is you don’t want to be here

You’re worried that you’ll always feel this way

Why would you want to keep it all past today?

I told myself several times that today was the day

That all the thoughts in my head will finally go away

I then had a day that was a little worse then the rest

After trying and failing when I was put to the test

I had hit rock bottom and it felt pretty strange

When I finally decided that it was time for a change

I talked out my feelings and now take pills everyday

There were trials and errors to keep bad feelings at bay

I still feel sad sometimes, having good days and bad

But I will tell you that somethings different from what I had.

I dabbled with the thought that life was worth living

The bad things that have happened can still be forgiven

I won’t tell you it’s easy but it does get better

Your life isn’t worth less than any other

You can tell me you don’t think you’ll make it past today

And now I think I’ll know exactly what to say.