(and i’m fairly certain one is)



i’m just trying to
bring all the things together,
this entire time.
that’s it.

tagging and
  linking and
      documenting
highlighting and
  tearing out and
rearranging
layering and
erasing.

it’s just a reflection
of my reality.

- no - that’s not right,
not a reflection.

it is more of a
p r o j e c t i o n,
i suppose.

Hurt,
is not a feeling,
but rather a process,
it’s wanting to burst out
in laughter when you fall
for the same trap twice,
and shedding tears
when you least expect it,
it’s being able to experience
emotions that you thought you had lost
touch of, sight of,
it’s looking at yourself
in the mirror
and loving the broken
version as much as the healed one.

Chocolate, bear claw, Bavarian cream,
Am I really here or is this a dream?
I can smell coffee and fresh baked goods,
Swaying in line where so many have stood.

The lights are too bright, they’re hurting my head,
Can someone just give me some jelly filled bread?
And three apple fritters, a cruller or two,
At this point, any old fry cake will do.

Rev up those fryers and ready the glaze,
As I’m very drunk, and just as amazed
At the flavor they pack into frosting and dough,
Now stand the hell back and watch my bill grow.

Dozens or hundreds, I can’t get enough
Of these twists so sublime, ah, that’s the stuff.
The driver is ready, it’s my time to go,
I think I’ll just grab a half dozen or so.

We get in the car and start to head home,
What’s this in the bag? A bagel!? God, no!

I’m scared of death
But not my own
I’m terrified of watching my parents’ faces turn unrecognizable with wrinkles
And their voices becoming that of old people
And then one day, they’re gone
I don’t sleep at night thinking of this
Being aware that everyone we love
Everyone we know
Will leave us eventually
And not necessarily in chronological order
And then I start thinking about a series I watched some months ago
The characters thought they’d died and gone to Heaven
But turns out, it was The Bad Place
And maybe we think we’re living on Earth
When in reality, this is The Bad Place
Isn’t losing everyone we love torture?
But then again, without sorrow there’d be no happiness
We’d be pretty unhappy being happy all the time
The unsolvable riddle
So are we in The Good Place or The Bad Place?
Or are there no “places”, and when we go it’s really the end?
But if we’re energy, we can’t be destroyed
Only transformed
Into what?
Dust? Ghosts?
Are we born again?
One thing is the physical body, another the soul
Our soul lives on forever, supposedly
So are we born again and again forever?
But isn’t forever too... infinite?
It must get tiresome to live a million lives
Again, that’s torture
It’s sad if we stop existing
But it’s sad if we exist forever, too
If that’s the case, maybe that’s why we don’t remember our previous lives
So we experience life for the first time every time
I guess that must be it

I'm not stable enough for love
I'm not kind enough for love
I'm not worthy enough for love
I'm not ready for love
Lord please save me
I don't feel human
I don't have strength
I don't belong
I don't want to live
I'm nothing but depressed
A lost case
A piece of work
A damaged ex
Will I ever turn my life around?
And see the world differently?
Like it's meant to be
Like I have a destiny
Like anyone wants me
To be here