7. happy thoughts

can’t even walk
without feeling unsafe,
can’t even turn
without thinking you’re there,
and i know it’s
all in the mind,
but the visions purge through,
they’re so real yet so fake.

and i hear all
the little noises,
start thinking
something will get me,
but my mind just
makes everything up,
creates a vibrant image
of my fears
and throws them at me
in the strangest of times.
might as well
put me up there
with winona
because i’m uneasy,
and if this keeps up,
i’ll lose my will, too.

you knew that one was coming,
didn’t you?

it had to be there,
i need the peace,
get in a better frame
of mind,
stop letting my brain
control my visions
and stop creating
these things that just
don’t happen

and only exist
because of my fear.

think of her,
her smile,
her kindness,
imagine yourself
with her,
think of how she
stole your heart,
but how she’s done
such a beautiful job
holding it hostage
and treating it well.

think happy thoughts.

6. walls

the walls around me,
they close in tighter,
and i can’t take
this pressure
any longer.
the pain courses
through my whole body,
i thought i could
isolate it to just one,
but now it’s taking over,
and i don’t know
how to stop it.

no single medicine
can ease the burden,
the hottest of showers
relaxes me temporarily,
but once i’m out,
i just fall right down.
there’s no longer
any feeling
in any part of me,
and i just want
to go to my bed,
but i can hardly move.

my heart races,
my breath shortens,
my fear grows,
as i wonder
what happens next?
i crawl to my bed,
climb onto it
and close my eyes.
everything around me
just stop!
please!
walls, stop closing!
pain, go away!
give me back
the energy i once had!

but then, the next morning,
it’s all gone.
suddenly, it’s back to normal:
the walls go back
to where they’re supposed to be,
the medicine worked out,
i’m wide awake,
the feeling is back,
and i’m eager
to take on the day.

pretty strange, huh?

5. runner

you invaded my home.
everything was peaceful
until you showed up
and gave a huge scare.
i can’t even feel comfortable
walking around
because you’re here,
and you refuse to leave.

my bed’s being pushed
from against the wall,
dad says i have to
get rid of my stuffed animals
despite my love for them
because he thinks
you’re around them
and he wants to
knock your fucking
brains out,
really bad, too.

but despite my
constant fear of you
and the way you make
living in this house
feel unsafe and scary,
why do i feel
sympathetic?

why do i feel
so uneasily gentle?
why do i feel like,
as much as i want you out,
i don’t want you to get bashed?
why is my brain
writing a screenplay
of these very events
as they unfold?
why do i imagine
this is gonna become a story,
where i befriend you
and keep you safe?

i’m filled with fear
over your very presence,
but for some reason,
i feel like
i want you out safely.
why do you leave me
feeling so conflicted?
why don’t you just
leave us alone?

why don’t you just go?

4. perfect

the world sees
the things that i do,
and then their thumbs
go all the way up,
almost automatically.
why is that?

is it that easy
to like every
little thing that i do?
it’s like all this time,
i wanted to be
noticed and liked,
but now i question
if that’s genuine?

does it seem realistic
that people like
all of my work?
where does the improvement
come in?
what happens if
the people tell you
there’s no need
for improvement,
that everything’s just fine?
how does one
continue to push themselves
if they’ve already
stretched the limits
of what they can do?

there’s that one saying
that when you have everything
you could ever want,
you start to ask “now what?”
and i don’t even
have everything i want,
but i’m asking “now what?”
where do my words
go from here?
this isn’t as easy
as it once was,
but i still
want to do it.
when do i stop?

hopefully never.

3. centralization

to the world,
he’s just a funny,
sweet guy,
wishing the best
for those around him,
cracking jokes,
smiling,
loving life and people
and just wanting
to spread positivity.

but as he sits,
typing at his laptop,
his thoughts consume him,
and he questions his
different moods.
he type out words
that express feelings
most wouldn’t expect
out of him,
and it’s not all
sunshine and roses.

these two forms
couldn’t be more different,
but they still
hang out and game,
have conversations
with each other,
hell, they even
sleep with each other!
but they still don’t
agree on anything!
how’s that work?

the weirdest crossover in months,
they worry him,
because they make him wonder
if people will call him “fake.”
it’s not like he lies,
he does want others to be happy,
but when he writes all of his words,
he questions if his
more sociable personality
will make his poems
seem like a facade.
he’s still a nice guy,
but he battles everyday
with anxiety,
and he wants positivity
in spite of his fear
and constant worrying.

it’ll happen soon enough.

2. confidence

used to be
the one that had
all the self-confidence,
took me a while
to build it up,
but once i got it
i didn’t let go.
i was always proud
of everything i did,
and i wasn’t worried
about anything.

now my confidence
is on the tip
of the iceberg
because some lady
made me whine
when she told me
to never put myself
in front of
a camera again.
and i know it’s petty
to keep bringing it up,
but that shit still stings
because i don’t get
what it means.
it’s cool when others do it,
but i’m the asshole
when i try it out?

fuck that,
you say it’s not
“visually interesting,”
what about everyone else?
they all
better have gotten
the same exact comment
from you.
you’re supposed to help
motivate those down below,
especially when you
got a nomination
that makes your
small stature
worth looking up to,
but apparently,
motivating and helping
just isn’t your thing.

what’d you get
nominated for
all those years ago?
a thesis?
well, here’s a thesis for ya:
“interest in social justice
doesn’t mean a damn thing
when your words
cause a flood of anxiety
on your students.”
hope that caught your eye,
because that sounds like
the beginning of a
“visually interesting”
paper to me.

eminem once said,
“if you bitches are trying
to strip me of my confidence,
mission accomplished.”
i bet he was
talking about you,
because for a teacher
that’s supposed to encourage,
you’ve done more hurt
than help
for me.
but you don’t care
how many words
i throw on this page,
nothing will change,
because the sad truth
is that you’ll still be
self-absorbed
and arrogant,
like the biggest ones are.
and i can’t be shocked…

since you’re a slytherin.

1. what if

what if

i lose all of

my motivation

for the art?

what if

i give up myself

for the money?

what if

i end up

doing something

with myself

that i don’t want to do?

what if

i wait for love

and watch her go

to someone else?

what if

kendrick’s third verse

on the song of

the fear of

losing it all

was talking about me?

what if

i join jon

and hit that

all time low,

will i get up?

what if

i die

before i do

everything i want?

what if

i get too scared

to continue my career

because of some

bad critiques?

what if

my characters

end up too flat

and my stories

too bland?

what if

all my positive energy

just dies out

in a sudden flash?

what if

i’m stripped

of all my self-confidence?

what if

all my hopefulness

is just a facade?

what if

i exhaust my ideas

and burn out too quick?

what if

everything that i

could ever want

just goes away

in a sudden poof,

and i die alone

with nothing to stand for

and nothing to be proud of,

and everything

that i’ve done in life

just goes away

in the blink of an eye?

what if i fail?