5. this beautiful mess i've made

another day,

i awake

from some crazy dreams,

it’s like not even

the fantasy world

can bring me much peace,

they say sleep

can set you free,

but for me,

it only illuminates

the insecurities,

all my worst cases

and cursed phases

take up all the space

in my brain,

pain wraps me

in its sweet embrace,

trying to give

myself some grace,

but i’m back

to feeling

like a total waste,

living in

this beautiful mess i’ve made.

wanna make

something lighthearted,

but it’s hard

to write light

when all you know

is the dark,

all the best words

that i ever wrote

came from the

bad place,

the side of life

where the bulbs

never turn on,

hard to let

the sun peek in

when you’ve always been

a nightcrawler,

and as the summer

turns to autumn,

i start to wonder

if i’ll fall,

nocturnal by nature,

my world stays dark

with no sign

of the dawn.

sometimes,

i think about death

more than i’d like,

the OCD’s

got me worried

about losing control,

once touched a knife

to my neck

to see if it really

felt sharp,

then spent the next

seven minutes

in a panic,

worse than when

i wondered

if a belt

around my neck,

would really squeeze,

it’s like

an entity

wanted to write

the end of me,

i’d never do it,

but what if i lost

the ability

to stop myself?

i wanna be here

because i’ve got people

i love too much,

i couldn’t give a fuck

what i accomplish

long as they get to win,

you don’t realize

how much you’ve got

to live for

‘till you have a friend

who makes you happy

just by being happy,

and i fight through

for people like you,

the ones that make

waking up

worth it in the end,

it’s not easy

but i’m doing

what i can,

and i hope that

my best

is good enough.

4. he is not your savior

the poetry king’s

taken you to places

you’ve never thought

you’d be,

seven years of writing

and he’s been

all around the world

in his bedroom alone,

over 30 albums

with no sign of stopping,

he’s created a resume

that’d make the greats

put respect on his name,

he’s talked a big game

but backed it up

in spades,

he’s created works

that’ll live

long beyond his days,

etched himself in

and earned his place

in the hall of fame.

but he is not your savior.

the poetry king’s

taken names

without ever saying them,

he’s fired shots

without ever even

holding a gun,

he’s taken the family

to task

and made sure

they didn’t forget

the past,

he’s stood up

for himself

when the world

wanted him seated,

a modern-day poe,

“nemo me impune lacessit,”

he’s got some bars

for anyone

who wants ‘em,

and he’s dropped quotables

like it’s his day-to-day.

but he is not your savior.

the poetry king’s

let his flaws

fall on the page,

he’s grown

but also taken

some steps back,

he’s shared words

he shouldn’t have

and should’ve kept

in his pad,

he’s got trauma

he’s still tryna

heal from

in healthy ways,

still trying

not to hold on

so hard

to his mistakes,

surely a king,

but much as the past

might have you

thinking otherwise,

he’s also a mortal man,

nowhere above

your local joe,

he can leave you

inspired,

but he can’t

turn you

into a god.

‘cause he is not your savior.

3. about last night

there i go again,

making up more

scenarios in my head,

the only place

i ever feel

comfortable at,

still thinking about

all the things

i could’ve said,

and i try

to tell myself i’m fine

but i’m not,

if i was,

i wouldn’t be finding

new ways

to throw it all away,

and i wouldn’t be saying

all the same things

in every other line,

i’m trying

to help others

get over their heartbreak

when i never

fully cleaned up mine.

suddenly, i’m feeling

what taylor meant

when she said,

“i love you,

it’s ruining my life,”

because i can’t stop

circling back,

and i hate to stay

stuck on that,

but every time

i think i find

the love of my life,

it just becomes

the loss of my life,

and as i sit

and sing

of ed’s photograph

to the bugs out back,

i’m wondering

who would wait for me

to come home.

i never stopped feeling

how i felt

about anyone

i ever loved,

and i’m realizing

that they don’t need me,

all i’ve ever done

is drag down

everyone that comes along,

try to be there

for myself

but i realize i’m lost

when i’m on my own,

and i’ve never felt

more alone

than i do right now,

the world’s greatest

oversharer

is heading

for another nightmare,

just praying

somebody stays

to help steer me

through the storm.

i feel like i ruin everything.

2. real music's gonna last

my pedigree

speaks volumes

i could never reach,

yet everyone

still sleeps on me,

ask someone to name

their favorite poem

of mine,

they start to stutter,

don’t tell me

it flew above ya?

still playing catch-up

while i’m on

to the next one,

everyone expecting me

to fall off

but i’m only getting better

with every release,

i’m my favorite writer

and my favorite album

is the one

i haven’t written yet.

i’m more than a trend

and i know i’ll end up

in the hall of fame,

the real shit’s gonna last

and the gimmicks

will fade in time,

top of the charts worldwide,

i’ll keep leavin’ ‘em

in a trance

every time,

and all the ones

that never cared for me

will be calling me

the GOAT one day,

they’ll be talking

like they always

saw it in me

even though i know

they didn’t believe,

but let ‘em think

what they must,

i’ll be the one

making history

and leaving ‘em

in the dust.

and fuck all the people

that never believed in me,

the people

i’m supposed to call

“family,”

and i don’t care

how much trouble

this gets me in,

i’ve held in the pain

they’ve got

no idea

they caused me,

i used to be scared

i’d get kicked

from my home,

but maybe i’m better off

being alone,

roam the streets

and find a castle

i could hide in,

i’m really like edward

the way

i’m not finished,

maybe i never will be,

but it sure beats

being the scapegoat

every time they overheat.

1. walk the planks of elizabeth's rose

they say to keep

your chin up

but mine is on the floor,

every answer

that i find

ends up a lie,

and all the best versions

of myself

disappear just as quick

as when they came in,

chasing a stable life

but it won’t stay,

supposed to be

my best years

but i’ve let them

go to waste,

found my confidence

but why’d it have to come

five years too late?

and why,

when i see the number

on the scale,

do i struggle

not to fixate?

hard to focus

on what i have

when i’m mourning

a life

that i never had.

can’t even say

i fumbled the bag

because i never

got to hold it,

know they say

to cast a wide net,

but the only ones

that’d ever go for me

are the scammers on the net,

catfish tryna trap me

in their muddy waters,

everybody else

got someone

and they’re settling down,

steady starting

to grow the family tree,

while i wouldn’t even know

how to plant

my own seeds,

i’m not even enough

for me,

so how could i be

what anyone else needs?

maybe i should’ve gone

into a different field,

maybe i should’ve saved up,

maybe i should’ve quit

with the poetry shit

back when i fooled about it,

maybe i’ll drop that album

before frank drops his,

they couldn’t wait

for me to do it

this summer,

now they’re sittin’

ready for the fall,

maybe i should just run

from it all,

leave everything

and everyone behind,

dying for a little

peace of mind,

but it’s something

that i’ll never find.

too tired to live, too scared to die preface

my dear readers, hello. do you how do? if you’re reading this, i’m so happy to see you here and i’m sending you love as we reach the fall season. it’s been a bit since i last released a poetry mini-album, but i’ve prepared a new one for you that i call “too tired to live, too scared to die.” initially, i had hoped to release this on september 15th, as that marked the seventh anniversary of when i wrote my first poem “my dear,” but life has been a touch busy lately, thus the project has been sitting around completed for the last week or two. thankfully, it is ready to go, and i’m so glad it gets to be yours now. my last album “poems for the club” was an entirely fictional project, and with this one, i went for a more straightforward, personal record that didn’t quite have one tone or style; just an amalgamation of the complex feelings that go through my mind, both good and bad. it’s always gratifying to put out a new project, and i’m very proud of this one. i hope you all enjoy it, and i hope your autumn is off to a good start. as we speak, i’ve begun doing some light work on my next project; i hope to have it ready for you very soon.

1. walk the planks of elizabeth’s rose (shoutout to tony for the title)

2. real music’s gonna last

3. about last night

4. he is not your savior

5. this beautiful mess i’ve made

11. before your eyes (bonus track)

the days move slow

but life goes fast,

blink

and it’ll be gone

in an instant,

facing down

my ultimate fate

but as i reach

the gate,

i’m afraid

to say

what really happened,

try to make

an adventure

of some grand nature

out of my life,

but i’m caught

in the lie,

never got to live out

my dreams

because i spent

the days

just trying to survive.

i thought the sickness

wouldn’t stick

until i had to let

the IV drip,

taking medicine

that barely did

a thing,

and soon enough,

my time was up,

mama wanted a legacy

but i wasn’t

the piano prodigy

she hoped i’d be,

never got to live

the artist’s life,

or get old enough

to make chloe my wife,

you were my

first love,

and i gave it all up

just to be with you.

tried to repress

all the pain,

but as i greet

the gatekeeper,

i know i can’t,

it’s time to take

the weight off,

let go of regret

and tell how

it really went,

brought to my end

too quick,

but my love

lives on

in the ones around me,

it’s not much

of a life,

but i know

that i lived it,

wasn’t who i thought

i’d be,

but i was who

i needed to be,

and as i close my eyes

one last time,

i’m finally at peace.

benny.