passe

these poems make me cry for who i was
this is me without legs to stand. i think i am past this..?

Wish (september)

I wish.

There was a time when I had a relapse of kindergarten, when life was simple and fun and everything was in primary colors... thats how it was with you

There was no tension, only our lazy bodies strewn around your room like forgotten sweatshirts, conversation that was hardly ever important, and yet it was essential: it was us.

“I am a good friend to my friends, and they to me- without them I would have nothing to say, I would be a cardboard cutout.”

Thats what I am: rough, brown, and paperlike, I stand alone in a world of dark swirling colors, a world difficult to understand, a world I dont want to understand, one I dont want to live in or fit in.

And so Im here wishing, on stars and rainbow sprinkles and memories of what was, what could be but isnt

There is a mound of textbooks on either side of me, empty mailbox on the screen, a phone that will not ring.

I am surrounded by future, possibilities and potential and all I want to do is turn around and run, pumping my arms and breathing hard, burning calories like a madman and hopefully someday running headlong into something more real than what is with me now.
Something solid and rainbow, something endlessly important that I can safely care about, something that wont leave me like you are about to

...I need a hug.

Wish me safe, wish me warm and happy, wish me loved like you would love me if only you could be there. Wish that I could deal, move on and remember but not lose reality in remembering, wish me conscious, wish me real. Wish me luck.




Hey Love (october)

This is just me writing you a note to tell you how much I love you and miss you every day. I am probably supposed to be doing some homework as a write this, but I’m just having lots of trouble these days believing any of that’s important.
I miss the past. I miss security and love.
I need a hug, I need to fall asleep next to you with a smile on my face, I need to bury my face in your flannel sheets and smile at another day.
I miss those days.
I wonder if I will ever feel that again, I wonder if it was even real or if my nostalgic imagination has invented these possibilities gone past.
I think of you when I bake cookies.
I think of you when I cry. I think of you when I laugh.

The truth is I’m not sure if what I’m writing is true. Its possible I’ve moved on.
But in this moment of time it is truer than anything else in the world.
I feel very very alone. I feel very very consumed, like something is eating me from inside, an animal that wants very much to be out, something sucking all the meaning from my life.

I am hurting. I am hurting in a way that is so subtle and painless I did not realize it until I sat down to write and all this came out.

The mask has slipped, the rational, happy, hardworking half of my scitsophrenic being has split, hit the road, blown this popsicle joint. I am left with the reclusive half, the stay up all night and cry half, the binge-and-puke then run half.
The soul-sucking half, or maybe the soulful half.

I wish you were here, then instead of trying to put this into words id be dancing, kicking it all into a corner and letting you hold me and tell me its all my silly imagination.

You’re not. You’ve left me and my life and I’m trying to be OK with that like you are.
I will be someday, I promise.

My love, my support, my dearest friend, my heart and soul, what do I have left once you have taken the best parts of me with you?