In the mist is where I can find you,
Gone with the dying of the day,
Just like the moments when you held me.

It doesn’t matter now, or did it ever?
I can see it now a bit too late,
The emptiness of words is all you had to offer.




You’re nothing but a screen,
With little left in between.
All the emptiness of the words you spill
Remain as void ever still.

I try to grab onto
The good I see in you.
But there’s nothing left to see,
You’re just as transparent as me.

And when you’re here,
So close and near,
I don’t feel you,
Like I want to.

The Permanent Resident

Unless you experience it firsthand, there really is no way to adequately describe what depression feels like. It’s that ache all throughout your body that never seems to subside. That feeling like every bone in your body is about to break, like your ligaments and muscles are stretched too far and on the brink of snapping, like you’re full of sand that makes you feel so heavy that you can’t move. At times, the overwhelming feelings of sadness engulf you to the point of incessant tears that leave you breathless and exhausted. Though other times it just feels like all you want to do is stare at a blank spot on the wall and merely exist in an empty state of nothingness. Sometimes, you almost feel functional until you realize once again that you feel hollow. Like a piece of you is missing that was never even there in the first place. What people really don’t seem to realize is that it’s a constant feeling. An invisible disease that people assume goes away once you vent to them. Alas, that is not the case. The nothingness persists, the emptiness lingers, the voids in your soul remain. Sure, just like with any other illness there are better days, days that end in the same darkness as the ones prior. The storm lets up for a while and then returns until you’re completely sodden with that familiar feeling once again.

I still think about you from time to time,
But not in a healthy way.
Perhaps I need to accept that I like to hurt,
Maybe I will get over it,
Some day.

Only with eyes closed can I feel you close to me

A vision that comes only in my dreams

The warmth you elicit through the veils of my subconscious

Is strong enough to bring me to my knees.


A stubborn girl that never listens

For which reasons, I don’t know

Perhaps I need the pleasure in pain

Or seek the peace beneath the undertow.


I will never be anyone’s to have

Impossible to tame or to control

Endlessly struggling to find my place

Unable to fill that role.



You’re the comfort among the chaos
That plagues my waking life.
You’re the warmth among the cold,
That keeps me up at night.

 You dress the wounds that I possess,
And often try to hide.
You stick by me until they heal,
Both external and inside. 

And when I slip right back into,
The hell that’s in my mind,
You’re always there to see me out,
And leave it all behind. 

My room.

My room is a curious place. 
It houses many curious things. 
A curious girl.

My room is a dangerous place.
It houses many dangerous things.
A dangerous girl.

It’s the safest place to be.
It is calm.
It is quiet and orderly.

It’s the most harmful place to be.
It is chaotic.
It is loud and a mess.

I can hide all the things that I don’t want to be seen.
It’s where I can destroy myself in perfect privacy.
I can be whoever I want to be,
And remind myself of who I’m not.

No one like the one you love,
To make you feel alone.
They bring the light into your day,
Or take it all away.

You feel so much that you feel nothing,
And never notice that it’s happening.
As gradual as the setting sun,
With no remorse for what’s been done.

So hold me closely for the last time,
And watch me drift away like clouds.
For soon enough I will be gone,
Without a trace, without a sound.