Desperate

I tend to only turn to this blog when I feel hopeless

Because to be honest I’ve found healthier ways of coping

But right now I just want to show her how much I care

Even more than I care about being able to breathe air

But even with all these healthy coping mechanisms I don’t know how

To show her how I’d die for her on the spot to make her feel better right now

Another Drink

Part of me hopes I drink myself to death

To the point where I don’t take another breath

While the other part of me wants to fight for what I stand for

Even if I spend most of my life now just wanting more

Praying for someone to share my feelings with as if I knew how

Acting like doing what I’m doing’s gon give me a sense of fulfillment now

So I continue to drink alone in the comfort of my home

And sing songs by myself to try give myself a sense of hope.

The Ghetto Fights Back

You evict us, rob us and shoot us in our back
To intimidate us into never fighting back
But you’ve killed one, two, three too many blacks
Enough is enough time for the ghettos to attack
Unleash ourselves from the chains you use to bound us
“It’s just one kid and he robbed so what’s all this fuss?”
We don’t attack with guns because they already want to shoot
People in the head then step on them with their boots
Walk on them as though they’re not even there
Black lives don’t matter you really don’t care
We fight back by blocking highways
And protesting every single day
We live through this we don’t get to forget
So now consistent reminders you’re going to get
With die ins and sign and graffiti spray paint
Black lives matter and hands up don’t shoot written on the bridge
We fight with words not with fist
We speak through art though we aren’t pacifists
We write poems and perform in rapid succession
Or write raps to draw attention to oppression

What do I want?

What do I want?

I don’t know I feel like there’s a void

Not like confusion but like there’s things missing in my heart and soul

Because I don’t understand what direction my feelings should point

Insert a bad and cheesy compass joke here

Sorry I’m just drifting away because truthfully as time goes on

I’m slowly starting to not feel at all

I look at my friends and I try to understand

Because they’re all feeling things with their friends

But the less I feel the less I write

Or the less I write the less I feel I don’t know which one is right

Either way I don’t have anyone with whom I know how to have meaningful talks

And I don’t know how to start that so I live alone and isolate and perpetuate this all

They ask me how I am so I just lie and pretend to know

I don’t

I think back to simpler times when there were many feelings I felt

You know, the good old days, in high school when I was depressed

And as I feel more numb every day it makes me reminisce

And start to even miss the days I felt so much that I had to cut my wrists

And to talk myself out of drowning myself by making some silly excuse

Of something to look forward to

Because at least I felt something and didn’t have to question if I even exist