I’m not sure how to do this…

to turn around from self-hatred.

to not despise this life of mine.

to no longer want to throw it away.

To realize it was never mine to begin with.

To be thankful for all that I do have

and to seek the flaws in my own logic.

not for self-pity,

but to reorganize my perspective

and see what I’ve had the whole time

and simply missed.

I...

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what is it I’m trying to do here?

“your poetry is beautiful”

“you should be proud of yourself”

If only I never hid away.

If only I was still 7,

then it would be acceptable.

If I had opened up back then,

I would have had people falling over themselves

to make me feel better.

But I’m a grown ass man now.

and no amount of complaining will do a da...

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Can I have a hug?

Can I not be pulled away from?

Can I be weak, and in pain?

Can I have any physical connection that isn’t sexual?

Can I not be afraid, of the casual flirting,

with the barista behind the counter.

Can I have a small piece of the love,

Shown between a girl and her friends.

She goes to embrace another she,

A group of besties, inseparable from each...

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I want to split my head on a fire axe

I want to be found, dangling in a closet

I want to be a fine red mist on the front of a train

I want to be pulled in four by horses and rope

I want to be skewered atop a church steeple,

on display for all to see, as in the ancient days

I want to decorate my room with my flesh,

and turn my sanctuary into a meat locker

I want to...

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Suicide was my religion

I woke up every morning and called myself garbage

I went to sleep every night calling myself a coward

I was so absolutely furious that I was alive.

And so petrified that I might actually go that far,

should I ever put effort into my own abilities.

Clinging to life by my depression and sorrows.

I know no other life.

I know no other reality.

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