I want someone to look at me
and tell me things they like
and I know it’s not a topic you’d expect
but if my clothes disappeared for just a second
no longer than a second
because I get lost in the house that is my mind
and all I can find is a million things I don’t like
and I know it’s just a second
but I’d still stand there ashamed
my belly and back have rolls
my thighs don’t separate
and in the dark I seem much darker
if you saw me through my eyes
for a second, just a second
you’d see me try to hide it
with my clothes on, in the light
I radiate and dim at night
so look for just that second
and tell me what you see
tell me the things you like about me
and every word from your mouth that flows
the more I feel juxtaposed
exposed standing in front you
hoping you don’t see what I do
I mean, you’re with me for my personality
when i’m loud enough
when you like me
people see right past my body
and if they don’t, i’m covered safely
when i’m bare
you register blankly, all of me
let me keep my armor on my body
unless you sit there and tell me
everything you like about me
because I need you to stand to look at me
after these clothes are on the floor

“You’re an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

I’m an artist
I don’t think that’s
All I’ll ever be
But I think that’s all they’ll see
“You’re an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 2, 3, 4 and 5
I scribbled on everything
I said “I want to be an artist”
Now I’m an artist
The pressure makes me have to be
“You’re an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 6, 7, 8, and 9
There were coloring books galore
No more walls and chairs and chalk
I have to focus on staying in the lines
Don’t talk
“You’re an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 10
I was filling up sketchbooks
Lilo & Stitch, and Trolls
Hearts, and clocks, too much lore
I need to do more and more and more
“You’re an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 11
People were making trade offers
For my art
“If you draw me this,
I’ll give you that”
The artist kid
“You’re an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 12
I made the prettiest designs
With scissors and blades
In my skin
Letting the pain sink in
“I’m an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 13
I don’t like painting
But I paint over my scars
It stops me from creating new ones
“I’m an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 14
What happened to Rainbow Loom
Making friendship bracelets
I need them
Painting doesn’t work
“I’m an artist
Always have been
Always will be.”

At 15
I guess I don’t NEED
Bracelets
Let me think about tattoos
That’s something I can draw
It may be painful
But it’s pretty too
“I’m an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 16
I can draw hair and piercings
And me, I think
I can create with a pen and paper
It doesn’t have to stick with me physically
Like this title, I’ve attached to me
“I’m an artist
Always have been,
Always will be.”

At 17
I’m not 17
Yet anyway
But I’m starting to learn
An artist isn’t all I have to be
I have been
But that’s not a personality
It’s a label that’s attached to me
And I’m trying so desperately
To cut this label off
Without tearing through my skin
Because I’ve done that quite enough
And I need to heal from all I’ve done
Outside and in
Screw being an artist
I just want to be me
I always have been
And always will be

I look to the moon
I look to the sky
And I ask the world to give me a sign
Tell me that the stars will align
I think romance is against me
Every new crush
I think about neurotically
My confidence makes me cocky
But i’m so low in self esteem
Even if they told me
They felt the same
I wouldn’t believe it
It’s to the point where
My friends can’t win
Shoot me down
I’ll start crying
Build me up
I’ll say they’re lying
I don’t know what I believe
I wish the sky would answer me
I look to the moon
And ask for a sign
And I sit there and wait for the stars to align

I want someone to love me
like their breath
a love so easy
it flows through them unconsciously
i’m every breath they breathe
but it’s not codependency
their breeze is one part
independency and one part loving me
living me subconsciously
because I run through
their lungs and their heart
and their brain
in a way that chemically
changes them
so they’ll never be the same
I love in this way
platonically and romantically
and I wish someone
would match my energy
I want someone to love me
how they breathe

In english we say: “I’m depressed.”
and what I mean to explain is

I have never known an exhaustion like this
have never known to feel as if
I am the pieces of yellow grass
in that one yard across the street
the pieces the sprinkler never quite reached
even though it reached everyone
and everything on the sidewalk
the pieces of grass that were
so far worn by neglect
even the rain’s sympathy wasn’t enough
I am the yellow grass too far to be saved
by any amount of earthly life force
the pieces exhausted from existing
waiting for a personal extinction
I am the sun exhausted
from this seeming eternity
there has been no rest
from one thing to the next
I finish a rotation and I wait for a finish
but that hope is diminished
when I keep on spinning
to continue spinning
when you feel like your done
is like watching a spool of yarn
be un-spun
I feel like I have vertigo
from how quickly the world goes
by—but i’m supposed to be fine
there’s nothing visually wrong
I am a computer with corrupted software
there’s something wrong
but all the parts are there
i’m a computer trying to tell you
something is wrong
“Error, the original files
have been corrupted”
“Error, this could be the result
of a damaged disk.”
“Error, this application may contain
a virus.”
“Error, I need help to fix this.”
I’m a broken computer asking for help
In the only way I know how
“Corrupted data has been detected.
please run a check for corrupted data.”
I am a dog toy
that has been thoroughly
chewed through and used
thrown around by the people I once knew
and demolished by society
is there any hope to save me?
I don’t know, but this is my last shot
i’m just hoping I can get the words across

Mom, Dad? I’m depressed.

Do not touch me
I don’t understand how men
Feel entitled to touch me
Like my own body does not belong to me
I don’t care if it’s in “solidarity”
Don’t touch me like you know me
I shouldn’t be left feeling un-comfy
Because a stranger decided to poke me
As his way of showing me
We were part of a “community”
Consent is not a suggestion
No matter your intention
You shouldn’t be so bold
As to touch a body that’s not your own
A body that belongs to me
Do NOT touch me

What’s the dress code?
No tanks or short shorts
Nothing cropped or immodest
Where’s the dress code

On what page
Of the handbook I never got
Does it say that
I can’t wear a tank top
On what page
Does it say
Girls will be written up
But boys will not

Where was the dress code
When I watch a kid
Pull his pants down to the floor
In the middle of gym class
Where was the dress code
When boys’ pants sagged so low
I could see their ass

This supposed dress code
Is oh so invisible

This dress code only shows
When my shoulders
Are out and exposed
When I’m wearing shorts
Because it’s no where
Near cold
This dress code only exists
Because my shoulders and legs
Are on the “attractive list”

This dress code makes it seem
Like my bra straps
Should stop existing
Because the school board
Considers my necessity distracting
My mom says “it’s inappropriate.”
But why?
“You can’t wear whatever you want.”
Now tell me why

Because it’s unprofessional
But who made that standard official?
Getting written up over
Something so superficial
I wish there was a standard
For male self control
So my body isn’t dictated
By some other asshole

I’m not me
I’m not the person I was
Born to be
I’m not a daughter
I’m not the girl named
After my auntie
I’m not me

I’m hiding behind an identity
Like it’s a great oak tree
I feel like someone else entirely
I’m not me
Not really

I’m a disappointment
To those around me
But that’s not true
It’s not me
I’m still a person
Named for my auntie
That’s still me—well

Maybe

l’m not me
I’m Kai most times now too
I’m not the me
That most people knew
I’m not the girl
That I’ve showed the world
For the past 16 years

That’s not me
That’s not who I want to be
But it’s seeming to me
Like that’s what I have to be
Because that’s all that anybody sees
But that’s not me
Not authentically

Hypothetically
I could tell everyone that
I’m not me
Even if that’s not
What they see
What if hypothetically
They let me be me

I’m 16
I’m a lot
But I’m not me
But maybe someday
I will be

t’s different being strangers
When you used to know the person
It’s different being strangers
When it’s for the second time
Imagine walking past that person
You once knew
Knowing they see you too
And they refuse to acknowledge
That they recognize you
But won’t dare to come close to you
In 2 separate cars
In 2 separate lanes
It’s so different being strangers

I express myself in a way
Described as imposter syndrome
No matter who I’m around
I’m always in disguise
The true me is only
A passenger in my body
My mind tells me
That I am a fraud in what I do
And who I seem to be
Is only a figment
In somebody else’s reality
Evidence piles into
My minds eye filing cabinet
Never to be looked at
Because the story of my success
And why I can’t seem to accept it
Is a cold case
A challenge in my mental space
Any evidence that could be
Shoved in my face
Can be quickly displaced
By the phrase “I got lucky”
I’ve been in therapy
For 5 years as of 2023
Neither therapist could quite convince me
That I’m as smart as people tell me
That my worth ISNT based solely
In my grades and intellectual compatibility
That I can be loved unconditionally
That I can be loved without being perfectly
The perfect person
I can tell others and I have many times
That their intelligence doesn’t
Have to be worth a dime
That isn’t all people see
That isn’t their sole purpose in this reality
But why can’t I apply that logic to me
Why can’t I believe the words I so fervently
Say to those around me
The words that fall from my lips so easily
Why can’t I be who people say they see
What they say they see
My intelligence and capability
The words I say with love to others
Don’t hold the same love when
I have to say them about me
I can feel the self doubt and insecurity
Creeping and crawling all over me
Little black spiders made of lies
That crawl deep into my veins
Coursing like blood to my brain
A parasite of my own making
This parasite
Something in my brain
That always lurks, just OUT of sight
Is imposter syndrome
And I won’t let it control me

A lot of people like blue eyes
Reminding them of the ocean and the sky
They can think of many pick-up lines
To describe blue eyes
I prefer brown eyes
Brown like my skin,
Colored by melanin
Smooth like Nutella
While you can drown in bright blue waves,
You can melt in a chocolatey haze
Stare mesmerized by a chocolate fountain
Like a gorgeous view front the top of a mountain
Painted in golden nutmeg hues
The basis of everything, no matter what the muse

I wish I had a wishing well
A well that I could wish upon
With a penny or a dime
And let come true
All the dreams that are mine

I wish I had a wishing well
Like it’d be my genie in a bottle
Swap out my body, get a new model
Swap my identity, get an upgrade
Swap out my past, get it remade

I wish, I had a wishing well
I’d wish I wasn’t unwell
I’d wish I was never mentally ill
I’d wish that comfort could hold me still

I wish I had a wishing well
For every wrong thing in my life
For every mistake
For every pain
I wish bad memories weren’t the same
I wish I could erase all the pain

I wish I had a wishing well
To get back all that I’d lost
To fix my broken thoughts

I wish I had a wishing well
To wish this wish upon
The candles on my birthday cakes
And shooting stars
Don’t do the trick
So I can’t wish for a wishing well
Without a well to wish upon

But I wish I had a wishing well

If I had to give a name
To every chapter of my life
This period that I’m stuck in would
Have to be called
“Burning Out in a Burning World”
My skin itches and crawls
Longing for academic withdrawal
But my brain won’t let me secede
It keeps pushing, and pushing me
Pushing until I can no longer breathe
Pushing me, past my limits
Even though I’m screaming that I met it
Even though I’m screaming “I can’t take it”
My expectations push down on me
Crushing me
Breaking me
Making me
Feel ashamed of myself when I can’t reach them
When they seem like skyscrapers
I’m staring up at while being
An ant on the sidewalk
My mouth dries
And my tongue feels like chalk
When my mom brings up my grades
When I see them too
But can’t bring myself to do
Any of the work to fix it
To turn in the missing assignments
To do all of tonight’s homework
To be
A functioning human being

I need a break
Mentally, physically
I am truly
Exhausted
From burning out
In this burning world

She loves me
She loves me not
We play this game as kids
Without a second thought
We take flowers from the playground peddler
Picking off the petals in the park
Petals falling in the puddles
Because our mind is muddled
The only thought that matters
Being the result of the flowers
We peel the petals off
One by one
Back and forth with
The deciding phrases,
Passed down by generations
“She loves me, she loves me not.”
If you don’t get the answer you want,
Start again, at the top of the hour
Another petal off another flower
Til the ground is the aisle of a bridal shower
Covered in sunnies, or daisies, or roses
If you’re elegant
The petals are the only thing that’s relevant
Well, that and, if you forgot
Whether she loves you
Or loves you not