Dead Battery

Today I felt like a full battery
Slowly dying
From exhaustion
From smiling.

For a Friend #2: mistaken

That night at the movie theater,
My heart was with someone else.
But I felt your shoulder touch mine,
And I felt restless.
What is this feeling?
What is my dead battery of a heart feeling?
And did you feel it too?
Do you feel like you cheated on your love interest
Like I felt I’ve cheated on mine?
Am I starved for physical affection?
Is that why I felt something I shouldn’t feel,
For someone I shouldn’t feel for?
The closer your face became,
The faster my heart awakes.
But it’s a mistaken feeling,
For sure,
Because you’re my best friend
And best friends do not, love, invoke.


in fits of tears and gasping breaths

i take the scissor and insert my fingers into those wretched holes

and take my long locks of hair

grab whatever his disgusting hands touched

and cut it off

i pulled on them and separated them from my scalp

a burden undid;

i think back to a few moments ago

when i slit his throat

in one slash

his predatory blood on the bathroom floor

his stray drops of blood splayed on the fogged mirror;

my hair

i cut off my hair mercilessly

like he had his way with me mercilessly;

i begin to collect the remainder of my sanity

and walk out of the haunting scene with an open bottle of kerosene

and torch the fuck out of the ghoul and his mansion

and with it, the remainder of my hair.

It’s Me, Hannah Baker.

Maybe I’m an attention seeker
Maybe the depression I’m going through looks unreal
But I’m scared
I’m scared for my life
And the murderer within me
I don’t think I can let go of this cancerous thought
So much death
So much of freedom
I wish someone gave a shit
I wish I gave less of a shit
Why am I so preoccupied with myself?
My acts of kindness gives me whiplash
And it hurts
It hurts like hell
I want to walk away from my sadness
From my high expectations
But I’ve loved and lost
My whole being wished it would be released from this bony cage
It all started with hope
A hope for something better
No one would believe this smile isn’t from a genuine origin
I want to admit to someone that I’m suicidal
But I don’t want advice
I want salvation
Someone to fix my problem
Without touching me
Without letting me pass my anger to the next
I could write forever about my disappointment
But that would bore you
Like it bores many
I want a listener
Who can make out the words from my silence
Violence seems like the last option.