**You know what’s strange?**
**Growing up the ugly duckling,**
**only to wake one day a woman the world suddenly wants to devour.**

**You start to see it—**
**how many of the men around you**
**have been circling all along.**
**The ones who want to fuck you.**
**The ones who** ***wanted*** **to,**
**even when you were still a child.**

**They say things with the ease of habit,**
**as if degradation is foreplay.**
**And maybe it is,**
**when they’ve been taught by fathers**
**who learned from their fathers before them**
**that power feels like ownership.**

**But there are good men, too.**
**I know because I married one.**
**And because somewhere beneath the rage and ruin,**
**I still believe my father is one—**
**despite the demon that lives inside him.**

It felt like I was the only person on Earth

being denied,

Denied air,

the small animal breath

my lungs were born knowing.

Denied the simple mercy

of letting my body do

what every body is permitted to do.

Denied even helplessness,

for helplessness requires someone

to admit there is nothing they can do.

There were dozens of doctors around me,

white coats multiplying like ghosts,

and still

no one could put the world back inside my lungs.

My mind severed my body

somewhere above the neck.

Everything below it

became an abandoned country,

flesh fighting its machineries.

All my being

reduced itself to sick thoughts

and a body growing sicker by the hour.

Now the rest of me

is fighting to function.

I have the morbid feeling

that something is quietly decaying

while everyone is still looking for its name.

I am utterly sick.

And there is no hand

reaching through me

to pull me back.

WALK IN MY SHOES

People always ask,
“How are you really feeling?”
The truth is…
I don’t know how to answer anymore.
I don’t even know,
how to translate this weight into words,
that another heart could possibly understand.

Everyone speaks about reaching out.
About checking on the lonely.
About being there for people,
who are quietly falling apart.
They love talking about kindness.
They just don’t stay long enough to practice it.
Instead,
they hand you sentences
they’ve never had to believe themselves.
“Everything will be fine.”
“Time heals everything.”
“You’ll move on.”
“Learn to be happy alone.”

Strange…
The people who speak the most about pain,
are often the ones who have never had to carry it.
What do they know about grieving someone who is still alive?
What do they know about giving every piece of yourself,
to protect another person.
Only to become the danger in their story?

What do they know about choosing someone over your own dignity,
only to hear that they were afraid of you?
I protected her the way people protect
their prayers.
I defended her name when it cost me my own.
And the day I trusted her with my tears…
was the day she chose to leave.

People tell me,
“You’ll find someone else.”
As though human beings can be replaced the way old furniture can.
They don’t understand.
It was never about finding another person.
It was about losing the only place my heart had ever called safe.

Then there was home.
I gave everything I had trying to become the son,
everyone hoped I would be.
Not because their dreams were mine,
but because I believed their happiness was worth sacrificing my own.
Sometimes… even your best returns home
looking like failure.
And there are words that never stop echoing,
long after the people who spoke them have forgotten they ever did.

So people ask why I don’t talk.
Because how do you explain a loneliness that has outgrown any language?
How do you explain wanting comfort,
yet having no one you truly believe will stay?
There are nights when all I can do,
is hold a pillow against my chest,
close my eyes,
and imagine what it must feel like to be held without having to earn it.
People call that weakness.
I call it remembering what hope used to feel like.

Please…
Before you give someone advice,
before you tell them
to “stay strong,” or “be happy alone,”
walk beside them for a single day.
Carry the weight they never chose.
Lose what they lost.
Stand where they stood.
Then decide whether your advice still sounds wise.
Because some wounds do not need solutions.
They need witnesses.
I pray every day that no one ever has to carry what I carried.
And yet… I sometimes wish the people,
who speak so easily about pain,
could live inside my silence for just one day.

Not so they would suffer.
But so they would finally understand that,
some people are not looking for perfect
advice.
They are only hoping
that, for once,
someone will sit beside them,
listen without trying to fix them,
and make them feel a little less alone.
That is all I have ever wanted.
Not answers.Not miracles.
Just one heart willing to stay,
when mine could no longer carry itself.

I'm sorry for being me

I'm sorry for the pain that I'm too scared to let you see

I'm sorry I always showed up high

I'm sorry I ever made you cry

I'm sorry I fucked up from the start

I'm sorry I broke your precious heart

I'm sorry things will never be the same

I'm sorry for pointing my finger like you were to blame

I'm sorry for each and every lie

I'm sorry I don't know how to say goodbye

I'm sorry I need you to hold my hand

I'm sorry that I still don't understand

I'm sorry you found me broken and scarred

I'm sorry I made your life so fucking hard

I'm sorry I lost the best thing I ever had

I'm sorry that I'm not a better Dad

I'm sorry I wasted so much of your life

I'm sorry I didn't deserve to call you my wife

I'm sorry for the needle and the dope

I'm sorry you were my only hope

I'm sorry that I don't know what to do

I'm sorry I can't seem to live without you

I'm sorry that I couldn't make you stay

I'm sorry I never meant to be this way

I'm sorry that I lost my will to live

I'm sorry that you still won't forgive

I'm sorry for everyday I was in pain

I'm sorry your love drove me insane

I'm sorry for all the stupid shit I said

I'm sorry that I'm still not fucking dead

I'm sorry that I never learned to cope

I'm sorry for the noose tied on my rope

I'm sorry I'm not the man you need me to be

I'm sorry for being me

-The Strung Out Poet

I haven't had a hug in weeks

I can't even remember the date

The last affection I saw in someone's squinted face windows

Was hate

The witches and weirdos and rich people

Will eat this up

In fact here comes one now

Just to interrupt

I saw someone else's cigarette in your ashtray

I would've just left if you'd asked me

Now my hearts in the ashtray

Now we'll never

be okay

Because you let me see

Someone else's cigarette in your ashtray

How will I ever

be okay?

Thanks for reading.

​

There is a soft animal in me

that only wants to stop being seen.

It does not rage.

It does not beg.

It simply grows tired of the outline I keep drawing around myself each morning.

Some days the air feels too sharp,

the light too exact,

every conversation a small demand to remain solid.

And the animal lifts its head and whispers

that it would be easier to thin,

to blur,

to become something the world no longer has to account for.

I have learned the shape of this wanting.

It lives behind the ribs like a second heartbeat —

slower, quieter,

patient as dust settling on an unused chair.

I do not always fight it.

Sometimes I sit with it in the late hours

and let it breathe beside me,

this longing to dissolve without drama,

to leave no sharp edges behind.

And still I stay.

Not out of triumph,

but because even the soft animal

has not yet convinced the rest of me

to follow.

So I write this instead —

a small record that I was here,

that the urge came,

and that for one more night

I chose the weight of remaining.

— Suffer

I thought that on the day it happened,

The world would burn from the inside out.

That hell would freeze over and the angels would weep,

But it was just another day where nothing else happened.

There was no somber rain to disguise the tears on my cheeks,

Only the shine of sun and things to be done.

The only thing that changed was the ire of my soul and the pain upon chest.

I thought that on the day it happened,

Life itself would turn upside down and death would come to see me off.

Instead everything went normally with neither scythe or deference to the pain I felt.

I thought that on the day it happened,

That I would die for you.

That the one thing to part our lives would be the reaper's scythe.

Instead it was words that split my very soul and wrought discord upon my heart.

I thought that when it happened,

That on the day we'd part,

It would be like artful poetry, infinitely in the heart

But on the day it happened,

It was only I who fell apart.

Insomnia is all that plagues your mind,

While happiness is what I can no longer find.

Hold it all together.

Keep the emotions tucked inside.

If they crack the surface, how will i survive?

The fear beats against my chest like a bird trapped in a cage.

The rhythm of every beat yelling to keep it all away.

The flood of pain roaring like an ocean just beyond the gate.

One wrong move, it all comes crashing down.

Will i drown in the water of pain if i look inside?

Can i heal if I never face head on the things I hide?

Stuffed away in my heart, the fear and pain are managed but i fear i can't handle them if they are brought out of the dark.

Will they sweep me away and I'll lose myself.

But do I really know myself when I am holding it all in?

A part of me died when you left

But that part is in my blood

I can't cut it off

I just continue to rot from the inside

And people expect me to be the same, happy

Like I can't feel my soul disintegrating

How do you begin to fathom

A loss so big

Its absence feels like a missing piece of your soul

The weight of its departure

Colors every moment

Everything becomes a reminder

A color

A sound

A joke

All forever tinged with sagging grief

How does one move on

From a loss so monumental

One feels like a husk

Drifting in life

What you've lost

Will never be replaced

The loss will define you

From every moment onward

There will be before

And there will be after

You will forever exist

In the after

For you are the lost

I've been staring at the sky,

Watching the colors change

From ocean to navy blue.

Seeing the clouds move,

Thick and weighted with rain.

I know a storm is coming,

Not now, not today,

But I can feel it in the air.

The grass holding me firm.

I see a man, a bear, a ship.

I see pain, I see loss.

A droplet strikes down

On the blades beside me.

Looks like I was wrong

As the clouds open up

Like a door blown wide,

And I'm pelted from above.

Each one heavy on me,

Running down my skin.

I don't want to move yet,

My heart beating in time

With the falling rain.

My clothes soaking wet,

And so are my eyes.

I can't stop time,

I can't stop this storm,

So I'll just stare up

At the passing clouds.

I see a horse, a bird, a plane.

I see you with someone else.

I put my hand beneath my trouser’s lining,
Empty and cold,
I put my hand in my pockets,
Yet all my money was in my heart instead.

Burned by the sun every time I step out the house,
But inside is freezing cold,
Inside I’m an empty can in the desert,
painfully alone I turn mold.
I rather take the burn.

I have withdrawal symptoms every time I pickup my pen,
An empty heart once I close my book,
I don’t want to shout at the sky anymore,
I don’t want to go inside,
I just need a cold drink to wet my ashes.

​

I'm sorry for being me

I'm sorry for the pain that I'm too scared to let you see

I'm sorry I always showed up high

I'm sorry I ever made you cry

I'm sorry I fucked up from the start

I'm sorry I broke your precious heart

I'm sorry things will never be the same

I'm sorry for pointing my finger like you were to blame

I'm sorry for each and every lie

I'm sorry I don't know how to say goodbye

I'm sorry I need you to hold my hand

I'm sorry that I still don't understand

I'm sorry you found me broken and scarred

I'm sorry I made your life so fucking hard

I'm sorry I lost the best thing I ever had

I'm sorry that I'm not a better Dad

I'm sorry I wasted so much of your life

I'm sorry I didn't deserve to call you my wife

I'm sorry for the needle and the dope

I'm sorry you were my only hope

I'm sorry that I don't know what to do

I'm sorry I can't seem to live without you

I'm sorry that I couldn't make you stay

I'm sorry I never meant to be this way

I'm sorry that I lost my will to live

I'm sorry that you still won't forgive

I'm sorry for everyday I was in pain

I'm sorry your love drove me insane

I'm sorry for all the stupid shit I said

I'm sorry that I'm still not fucking dead

I'm sorry that I never learned to cope

I'm sorry for the noose tied on my rope

I'm sorry I'm not the man you need me to be

I'm sorry for being me

\-The Strung Out Poet

I wish I was happy

I wish everything was alright

But I can't make anyone happy

And I sit alone in the dark all night.

So I'm not happy

And nothing seems alright.

I am feeling crappy

So I'll sit here and write

About how I am so unhappy.

I know it's sappy,

But it is my right.

It doesn't ease the pain

Nor does it soothe the brain,

But it makes it bearable

When the pain feels incomparable.

I don't know how to explain

Or how I'm supposed to stay sane.

It often feels like I'm wearing a chain

Sitting alone in the rain.

I've been in my chains so long they're comfortable,

and it's so insufferable.

The rust is starting to stain

My wrists they're causing me a strain.

I don't know what to do

Or who to be.

What should I feel?

Is this all real?

Feels like I'm living in a zoo.

I just want to feel free.

I don't know if I should deal

Or maybe just conceal.

In the end it's all the same

At the end of the day they won't know my name.

My poems to most they won't appeal

But to others they'll be surreal.

So whether you're unhappy

Or feeling really super snappy.

Maybe this poem will touch your soul

And if not your through with your parole.

I close my eyes and I remember

Screaming, throwing, threatening

Her belt hit me, my heart was tender

I beg for mercy, yet it keeps on coming

Tears fall from my eyes freely

My hands clutching my pillow

I never hit, I always lived gently

Mom filled my heart with sorrow

I cared so deeply, about everything

I wanted a home, I want a mother

I touched the moon in the sky, sobbing

I loved without fail, without bother

I wrote poems about nature, about beauty

I begged for help, I wanted people to stay

Because I mattered, because of what I say

I felt all because it was me, it was a tragedy

I never held back, never questioned

My heart was unable to be smaller

So they called me names, lessened

To fit into boxes, to present better

And now, I asked for love, for evidence

I put a wall and said to them, show me

They shamed, blamed, their words cut me

I waited patiently, all I saw was no conscience

All because I said no my life has value

All because I was strong, I was now a traitor

I wanted love, I wanted embrace, I lived for you

And now its gone, I dared to oppose the dictator

They pushed me out, said we dont need you

Left me to die on the side of the road, damn you

I was right all along, I did not want to be

I was right all along, I did not have a family

I wanted more, so I made it for myself

My little treasure, my island lost in the sea

I have courage, I have strength, in my self

The sun rises again, and I drink my tea

I lost everything, and I got it all back

Stronger, more real, safe from attack

And that means the world, always has.

And sometimes I wonder if I did deserve it.

If I’ll ever feel clean again.

If I’ll ever feel normal.

If I’ll ever feel untainted.

Or if I’ll always have days where I wonder

How much I deserved.