Too Much

Stars are just dead light, dissipating in front of our eyes.
My eyes held stars, but I can't see the light
anymore.
 They say its momentary.
A phase, an episode, a
destructive place to rest my head.
I tell them I am okay, fine,
alright; go to bed. I don't need anyone
to stay up with me.
Stay up with me,
please. I can't verbalize
what's really taking over.
It's taking over
everything inside of me.
I let it in. Let me in. Help me out.
Get me out of
this dark I'm stuck in.
Reach in and pull me back,
set me back, pull me up,
I can't do this.
I am too weak, too afraid,
too stubborn, and I have
lost my faith, lost my hope,
lost my will
to even mouth the words
"I'm sorry."
I am sorry.

Reflectionless

I write on my mirror what I need to know.
A list of how the day should go.
But rarely do I keep it up.
It's far too daunting to look up.
You see, I'm not who I have been.
I guess you'd say I'm not my friend.
I haven't been for quite a while.
I'm faking feels with every smile.
It's all momentary, though
I can't fathom where I would go.
Because I'm lost. This isn't me.
I'm just a ghost of what you see.
And every time, my mirror will try
to look me back, straight in the eye,
I cannot do it. My eyes fall down
to somewhere safe on darker ground.
I used to know who I was seeing
but the ghost pushes and I keep fleeing
to farther places. Rest my head
and maybe when I wake from bed
I'll have the know to remember this lesson;
A ghost cannot see its reflection.

Showdown

I don't remember the fog being this dense.
The times it rolled in, in the past
seem superficial now.
Like the fog was only up to my knees and
if I stopped for just a moment to look up
I could've noticed that it wasn't at my head yet.
Well, it is now.
And its seeping into the cracks in my skull,
dying to eat away at my sanity.
What is sanity, really?
I think I tried to pick it up at the hospital.
But what a weary place to try and find yourself.
I'm a wanderer. I've always been one.
But I am left alone now, wondering
where the other half of me has wondered off to.
I don't know this half.
I'm uncomfortable sitting with it.
Us, alone, in a waiting room
and I can't make eye contact.
I'm marking it's moves, waiting
for it to spring towards me
so I can run for the door.
But I need a map this time.
I have no idea where the door is and
if it lunges at me before I find it
will I lose who I am
forever?

Alternate Endings

"Beautifully tragic".
I fucking hate that phrase.
There's nothing beautiful about this mess.
There's nothing graceful about drowning.
Nothing okay about being locked in.
My mouth cant seem to form the words...
I get so fucking elusive.
If I could manage the sounds to tell you
everything inside of me
you would cry.
I can't look you in the eyes.
I can't talk.
I can barely move.
Did you notice?
The subtle loss of my grip on your hand.
Too weak to grasp any harder.
I don't want to let go.
Only cowards and fools and liars let go.
But he let go...and he was brave.
I'm not brave either.
There's no excuse good enough.
I just want you to know
that I am still in here.
That I still love you.
But I am far too weak to fight my way out right now.
I let the ghost take over.
It's eating at my from the inside out.
You don't need to carry that on your shoulders.
You already carry too much.
You can put me down if you need.
I am a thief, a criminal, a robber of compassion.
I keep taking and taking and talking and
eventually they all give up.
You are all reaching so abruptly.
You all know the alternate ending.
I never promised you anything but
I'm trying...sort of.
I'm tired of trying.
Eventually, you'll all stop reaching out.
You'll be angry, annoyed, and finished
trying to get to someone
who can't even find themselves.
I told you I was elusive.
I told you I was heading down.
I didn't tell you that I knew how easily
the alternate ending to this could go.
It's like an equation but
what it adds up to
is you broken, bleeding from the inside
and probably searching
for the same way out as me.
I could never do that to you...
right?...

Unlock Me, Please.

There's so much wishful thinking.
You know the real me 

wouldn't leave you like that.
I know you're scared.

It's okay. Im scared too.
The stomach-punched, appetite stealing kind of scared.
And each thought that weaves back
to the demons in my head,
fills you with a fear and anxiety that's new
to even your darkest part.
You didn't want to leave me.
You didn't want to sleep.
I didn't want to sleep
for different reasons.
But I wanted to sleep too,
for as long as I could.
I can feel very little.
I feel you trying to push in.
Inside, I'm screaming for you to push harder.
Question me.
Pierce my heart with your words.
Push and push until I cry.
Get angry, get
irate until
you know I'm resurfacing.
Until I feel again.
Because you've seen it now.
Remember it kid, its a warning.
When the words stop coming,
When my eyes go blank and
I can't keep them locked on yours.
When my answers turn to sighs and one word
satisfactory answers,
don't let them satisfy you.
Push.
Fucking push in until I break.
Because I'm in here. I am in here.
And I can't get myself out.
I know from experience.
This time is different.
This time is worse.
I'm too tired to reach out.
So please, please
if you have the energy
reach inside of me
and pull me out.

The Ghost Came Back

You don't know the ghost,
not yet.
But its peering out
from inside my head.
And rather than push it away
a darker me asked it to stay.
I shouldn't have.
But I don't care.
The me that's me is unaware
of all the danger pending, still
its far too weak
to hold its will.
It's gone, for now.
I'm not sure where.
Sometimes I'm lost.
But do I care?
They might as well
have shot up my heart
with Novocaine.
It has no part
in feeling anything from here.
I'll dissolve until I disappear.
My words already have
and these you read
were written by the ghost,
not me.
I wouldn't leave you
all so lost
at where I went
and what its cost.
But I'm losing sight of anything bright.
The ghost lives out the days like nights.
And I'm taken over.
Just like that.
Fell on the wrong side
and I can't go back.
I would try to claw my way back to
the fence I fell from. But the ghost knew
that I would try to escape. It stayed
pushing me down. And unafraid
of what the consequence would be
when I'm someone
that isn't me.

Density

There's no reason for these hollow traps

The quicksand-filled buckets 

that are hidden underneath my skull.

Was I born with them?

We're born as smaller wholes,

but I know something went missing.

I'm far too exhausted to find it

or fight it.

I don't know 

Where the trains going

When the sea stopped bowing

Why it's still a point of focus

My neurons are splintered

The pieces shank the front lobes of

my brain. 

My head hurts.

My head aches.

Nothing is ever going to be silent again,

Is it.