Regret in Retrospect

You don’t seem to know me,
As far as I can see,
You just seem to know my body.
I could be called a slampiece,
Or I could be serving your every need,
But the reality is still a mystery to me.
I can’t seem to tell if this is the truth,
Or a distrust that is continued on from youth,
That leads me to believe I am being used.
I never allow myself to become attached,
To any person I feel lacks,
The ability to see how I react.
Yet I hide my reaction from others,
And refuse to allow you to smother,
Me with the kind of attention I seek,
And truly listen to the words I speak.
Since I am uncomfortable with that kind of attention,
And I never learned to let people in,
To discover who I am as a person.
I never give others the chance to earn,
A position where they have a turn,
To surprise me with the support they provide,
And to listen instead to the thoughts they have raging inside.
Since I am too self-obsessed,
And you are doing your best,
To allow me a moment of rest,
By offering me something else to consider,
To which I respond with a bitter,
Resentment that you do not already know where I stand,
When I did not give you a fighting chance.
I hate that you do not know me,
But I hate even more that I cannot be,
The kind of person who extends an apology,
For the chances I never gave you,
And the things I have put you through,
While I was only focusing on what I saw,
And I was making it out to all be your fault.

These Streets Will Be The Death Of Me

The streets are alive with drunkenness,
And the people who are responsible for this mess,
Thinking that they are doing their very best,
To hide the fact that they can not function,
And that their extremities have gone numb.
The streets are thriving with intoxication,
Making the task of walking painstakingly,
Difficult while navigating the terrain,
Of people who are thinking in a fashion less than sane.
The streets were covered with debauchery,
And from every corner I can see,
Those who are struggling more than me,
To function in normal capacity.
The streets are teeming with activity,
Of the kind that used to be familiar to me,
But now is something I participate in rarely.
These streets used to hold a different version of me,
And now they challenge my sobriety,
As I observe the person I used to be with irony,
Wishing that I could once again be,
The kind of drunk who felt more complete,
When I am drinking heavily.
But I am no longer the type to lose control,
And it has been months since I’ve passed out on a bathroom floor.
I no longer seek that kind of release,
And consequently I am unsure of how to be me.
Since the person I used to know would puke in bushes,
And was known to be someone who pushes,
The limits of what is considered healthy,
In the pursuit to be the worst version of me.
I used to walk these streets in stupor,
Denying the experiences that I have been through,
Trying to drown away the conflict,
And silence the pain with numbness,
That can only be delivered by such manufactured bliss.
But I learned that the pain will only subside,
For what seems like just a moment of time,
In comparison to the hours that I have to live,
With conflict that plagues me in soberness.
I have learned that these streets may still be my home,
But I now walk with a different tone,
One that I have had to learn on my own,
Without the help of liquid confidence,
So that I may utilize my wit,
That is dulled with the intoxicants I digest.
The same aids that leave me with the echo of regret,
That I could have done more with my night,
Than wander the streets in drunken spite.

The Definition of an Employee

Please stop stealing from me,
The moments when I have allowed myself to be free,
From the thoughts that constantly consume my mind,
During what is defined as my personal time.
Please stop asking me for answers,
When I am not the first,
To know what I am talking about in this diverse,
Setting of work that requires common sense,
Not something I have made up in my head.
Please stop making me feel like I am not doing my job,
Since the strain placed on me is becoming too strong,
For me to even want to continue on,
With being the kind of person who provides support,
And an understanding that employees deserve.
Please stop turning to me when you have a need,
Because I am too tired to properly speak,
About the problems that extend too deep.
I can see that there is a need for someone like me,
To fill the holes that they left gaping,
In a plan to expand into a realm they didn’t understand.
I am the missing piece that can make this more complete,
But I am tired of being used and feeling like I have to compete,
With the egos that surround this operation,
And the patience it has taken,
To learn how to speak frankly with the confidence,
That I am the only one who holds the experience to get us through this.
I am the person who made this happen,
And I am the one who is still lacking,
The type of appreciation that I feel I deserve,
Where my words and concerns are actually heard.
I am not asking too much,
To have bosses who think of,
Me as a person with human needs,
That cannot be served with the words they speak.
I need something tangible to keep me around,
And I will eventually feel beaten down,
The more they do not appreciate my time,
With the pay and opportunity I am seeking to find.
I need them to stop asking me for more,
Because there is no way they will be able to even the score,
Between the tears and sweat I have poured,
Into the business that they seem to deplore.
Since I made this my life without thinking twice,
And I dedicated myself to something that to them is a roll of dice,
Gambling the wealth they cannot conceive,
Is something that I some day wish for me.
So please stop treating me like an idiot,
And stop having my future be something you play with,
Since I have the potential to be so much more,
And I will move on from this chore,
Of keeping someone else’s dreams alive,
While I still have the youth and strength to thrive.
Please stop taking me for granted,
Otherwise I will have to react with,
More than just a passive agreement to listen,
And my hard work will be something that will soon be missing.
Since I asked for your opinion over a year ago,
And I am just now getting the answer of No,
You refuse to think of more than yourselves,
And I have grown tired of the distrust I have felt.
Please do not think that I am a dedicated employee,
Otherwise you will have missed my point entirely,
That I am a person and not a servant,
And your use has only become a deterrent,
For me to want to do anything else,
Besides look for another boss who knows what I have felt.
Please do not take this personally,
Because your innocence is something in which I actually believe,
Since you were never required to think of me,
As anything more than just a disgruntled employee.

I Have No Apology For Being Me

Often I wonder what is to be learned over what I can earn.
And often I ponder about that state of this earth over which I wander.
Usually I consider the places I want to visit,
But today I considered what I want to do with this,
Mind that continues to spiral out of control,
Leading me down multiple never ending holes,
Of depression and deeper thought than I aimed for,
With my consciousness weighing heavier than it ever did before.

It steals away from what I aimed to see today.
And it grabs my attention in such a demanding way.
I never seem to be able to silence the thoughts that I fight with.
They do not allow me to rest,
No matter what I might consider to be the best,
I can do in this moment of time without crossing that line,
Of wasting away my life and allowing the instinct of flight,
To overwhelm any strength I might,
Have still to not allow my spirit to be killed.

I believe in that fact that I can one day see what this life means to me.
Since I have placed money on the bet that I will be able to settle this debt,
Of injustice paid when on weaker days,
And dissatisfaction felt when I seemed to repel,
Any positivity that attempted to fill me and any reason I had to believe,
That I have the strength to grow and ever more to know.

“You think too much,” is a phrase I have grown used to,
And “I drink too much,” is the reality that I’ve been through.
I once lost track of everything I wanted to pursue,
And now I am feeling dried up and used.
I have no idea what direction to head in,
Besides back to the bottle on which I depend.

But there is yet hope in these words I once spoke,
And there is more to be learned in the words I once heard.
Because I can see what these words have done to me.
I have become a force of one and I will not stop until I am done,
Since I seem to change constantly in an effort to become more complete.
But I finally stopped to look up to see,
That I now stand with grace and speak in poetry.
I move with finesse and dream of the finest,
People who might surround and come to love me.
I will not settle for a dull reality,
Because I still have the audacity and nature to dream.
It is a curse at first to be born with such adverse,
Thoughts against myself and the emotions I once felt.
It was a struggle to rise above and seek self love.
This was not the first time I sought change,
But it is the first of which I am willing to say,
I can see the light at the end of my tunnel,
And I will one day put down this struggle,
Since I am getting ever closer to me,
With the lack of an apology.

What Do You Owe Me?

What will you do once I’ve moved on from you?
And what will you say to keep bringing me pain?
What words will echo in the back of my mind,
That were said to me in unkindness?
What will you think of when I have left?
And what will be your best guess,
At the reasons I had to cut you off from me?
What is the level of concern you will finally show,
When I leave you on your own to finally grow?
What is it that I can no longer do for you,
That will make you miss the actions through once I was used?
Can I call this abuse?
Or is this just what you do when you have nothing left you want to pursue?
Do you rely on me or is this something that I created?
Did I further your dependence with my understanding?
And did I weaken your resolve with my incessant planning?
When did you learn to count on me?
And when did I not see that?
When did I miss the opportunity to react?
Since now I feel that it is too late to abandon you,
And yet I am tired of everything you do.
I am too upset to be able to relate,
And I continue to be lost in this solo debate,
Where I am the one feeling beaten down and used,
And you are the one feeling justified in my use.
Since you seem to think that my support is a given,
And I seem to think that is a reason to not continue living,
Life the way I once wished it to be,
When I did not have your influence on my reality.
When did this resentment come to surface?
And what can I do to hurt less?
When will you cut me a break?
And how much more am I willing to pay?
Because you have sucked me dry,
And I am tired of giving it a try,
Since you will never repay me,
And I am driving myself to insanity,
With the constant wondering of why you would do this to me,
When I am the one person who made you more complete?

Make Me An Offer

We never sat down to hold this interview,
So that I may determine what intentions I have for you.
And we never had that formal discussion,
About you being my official plus one.
You never spoke of your commitment outloud,
To the woman I am and the fact that you’re proud,
To hold me on your arm and protect me from harm,
Outside of the kind that you inflict,
And these unspoken words that I am dealing with.
We never considered our titles,
And instead I reside in a state of denial,
Over what I might mean to you,
Feeling that I am waiting in a never ending queue,
Surrounded by the other women you choose to cycle through.
We never made this official,
And I can amount my feelings to wishful thinking,
Dreaming of a strength that is linking,
Us together in indescribable ways,
And the hope that we could disappear for days,
Together in a state that only exists to us,
Bordering on the sensation that is commonly accepted as love.
But you never offered me that position,
And I continue on with wishing,
That I am someone who you might be missing.
I never accepted that I could fill this role,
And I allow my feelings to go ignored,
Because I am afraid that with me you might get bored.
You never said that I was enough to satisfy you,
And I have my doubts over what you might do,
If I expressed these emotions with the boldness of truth,
And the fact that I am obsessed with you.
We never came to terms over the negotiations we discussed,
Instead we moved on to making what some might call love.
But you seemed to use this as a tactic,
To distract me from my original reaction,
Of distrust and detachment,
Born out of your constant distraction,
From what I might need in order to feel secure,
In your embrace and to trust your words.
We never sat down for the official offer,
To aim to be the one standing by the other at an altar.
We never spoke of these hopes,
And I am not sure if I feel them alone.
Since I believe that you might be,
The exact person who was made for me.
But you never seem to speak,
Of the hope that I might be someone to keep.
I read through your actions,
And I factor in life’s natural distractions,
But still there is an answer that I am lacking.
I need you to make this official,
Or I will continue to consider this as an artificial,
Version of what others call love,
And continue searching for someone else to be symptomatic of.

Qu’est-ce que j’attends de moi?

The idea for change came from me,
And I am the one disappointed with what I do,
When I lack the reaction to follow through.
This concept of being incomplete,
Was born out of me and only I am able to see,
That I need change so desperately.
This passing thought became an obsession,
And I constantly try to open my mind,
To experiences of a different kind.
I prepped and prodded myself,
For something I do not know will come,
While resisting the urge to just play dumb.
Because I could be complacent and I could waste this,
Opportunity for the chance to think,
And consider the actions that I might speak.
But yet I still waste away time in spite of me.
This was not meant to be.
This was not what I wanted to see.
This is not what completes me.
I am tired of this debate and I wish I could relate,
To the words that I so painfully say,
In an attempt to reconnect with what I once expected,
And the actions that I once regretted.
Or rather it is the lack of action that I regret most,
And I am exhausted by the debate I’ve proposed,
Since it is going nowhere once again,
And I am annoyed by what spills out of this pen.
I don’t know exactly what I want to say,
And I can’t conceive why I always return,
To these thoughts that will not allow me to learn.
Instead they keep me in constant conflict,
And I am no longer sure they are helping with,
This internal debate that constantly ragings,
And the kind of release that is put down on pages.
I feel the pressure to speak more clearly,
And I wish that I could finally see,
What it is that I want from me.

Curse The Star I Wished Upon

I wish I had more self esteem,
So that I could realize the trials and successes I have seen.
I wish I had more to do,
So that I could practice letting go of a few,
Of the habits I keep in secret,
And the words I did not want to speak yet.
I wish I had more to escape to,
Than the replaying of scenes I have already been through,
Cycling around my brain despite what I might do,
To attend to the goals I want to pursue.
I wish I had more to forgive myself for,
So that I felt that my progress is not being ignored,
But instead something that is still being formed.
I wish I had not created this complex for myself,
And that I had more to be felt,
Than an overwhelming disappointment of self.
I wish I had more than what I’ve been through before,
Because the pressure of what I don’t have is difficult to ignore,
While I grow even more distracted and bored,
With the life I was once so sure I would adore.
l wish I had more direction and drive,
To do everything I can to stay alive,
But instead I have grown complacent in order to deprive,
Myself of any reason or motivation to thrive.
I wish I had more,
But that is a condition that plagues us all.
I am not unique with these wishes I speak of,
And I am not the first to want to rise above,
I am not the first to want more,
And I am not the only person who has their wishes ignored.
I wish I had more than all of this,
When I should be thankful for this consciousness,
That will not allow me to miss,
The opportunity to find my version of bliss.
Since I am constantly wishing and reminiscing,
Over what it was that I might be missing,
And I will never allow myself rest,
Until I can say that I have pulled and pressed,
Myself into a better version of me,
And widened the scope of my tiny reality.
I will always find dissatisfaction,
If I prove to be the type of person who lacks reaction.
I want all of this to work,
And yet I still do not see that I deserve,
Some credit for what I’ve worked through before.
I want to completely change my reality,
But I will not allow myself to see,
What currently makes up the person I call me.
I wish I had the strength to be proud,
And I wish that I did not commit to saying these words out loud,
Because with this I admit defeat,
And I am discouraged when I think about who I want to be,
Since it seems so incredibly far from my current reach.
I want this to be the opportunity,
When I choose to grant myself impunity,
So that I can move on from this cruelty,
To myself and the flaws I can’t help.
I want this to be my chance,
To prove that I can outlast,
The negativity I apply so heavily that I collapse,
Into this spirilling mess of unfair debate,
Making me feel that there is no way I will ever be able to relate,
To the positivity I could instead choose to relay.
I wish and I crave,
And yet these are the words the I am left to say.
I ponder and debate,
And yet these are the thoughts I am left to convey.
I am disappointed and distraught,
And yet I know there is more I can be taught.
I have my ups and downs,
And I have ridden both with a frown,
Because it was never the ride I wanted to experience,
And I wish I could demand a refund for dues I paid for this.
Since life did not offer the types of memories I asked for,
And I feel ripped off even more,
When I consider the possibilities that had to go ignored,
Because they were something I could not afford.
I am bitter when I have this wish,
To exchange everything I’ve created for a chance at bliss.
I am tired when I consider change,
Because it has taken too long to get to where I am today.
I am hopeless when I speak like this,
Rather than operate with a sense of confidence.
I wish that I could change,
And I wish that I had more to say,
But here is where I stand on this day,
Lost in the words I thought to convey,
Hoping to find a release from my wishful ways.

This Is All My Fault

I don’t need someone to need me,
Instead I need to need someone finally.
I am tired of being the person they call on,
And I am exhausted by all they put on me,
I am tired of being so steady.
I want to be less reliable and the kind of friend,
They have learned not to count on in the end.
I want to be a disappointment so that I may live in peace,
From all of the demands and secrets they share with me.
I don’t want to hear another passing thought,
And I am tired of being the help that is sought.
I want to see that I hold value to them,
And have that be enough to satisfy in the end,
Because I am tired of the way they demand,
Every piece of me they can.
I am tired of being used and I wish they would pursue,
Another person in their time of need,
Someone who might harbor less greed,
When it comes to what I expect in return,
And what I feel that I have earned.
Because I have spent years giving myself to others,
And I selected a profession that only abuses this further.
I was trained to say Yes rather than confess,
That I am not currently at my best.
I want to share my troubles with others,
And I do not want to be viewed like a mother,
With the patience to understand and forgive,
And has so much more they are still willing to give.
I am tired of being relied upon,
And I no longer want to be someone who can be calm and carry on.
My patience is worn thin since I do not know when,
I gained the reputation of being reliable,
And I became the kind of person with an undeniable,
Drive to serve those who surround me,
Versus the kind of person who thinks selfishly.
I was born with natural hospitality,
But that is just a skill I keep,
In order to deter others from taking a closer look,
At the kind of person I once mistook,
To be made to serve the needs of others,
Destined to always be in debt with favors.
But I no longer know what I owe,
To the people who rely on me to know,
The answers to their struggles and solutions to their problems,
Since I never received help from them when I have fallen.
This was a one way need I sought in defeat,
After realizing the strength others see in me,
I wanted to believe that they would complete me.
I wanted it so badly that I forgot to see,
What it is their demands were doing.
I am distracted with these thoughts of what others seek,
Versus pondering what might satisfy me.
I wake up with the needs of others weighing down my mind,
And I go to sleep with worrying about the kind,
Of help I might be able to extend in the morning,
While I continue on ignoring,
The opportunity to think more about me,
And the solutions that I want to see.
I have given so much of myself that I’m not sure there is anything left,
To extend to the thoughts that race through my head.
I am too tired to consider what I need to get through,
And what solutions I could offer to,
The problems that I am only delaying with others’ distractions,
And the the way I have put off this reaction.
I am in a place of need,
And I’m not sure that is something anyone else sees.
But that blame can yet again be placed on me,
Because my needs were not something of which I was willing to speak.

A Story About A Boy

He would rewrite his past if he could,
To be a story of only the good.
Since he was once a boy who had to learn,
That respect was something to be earned.
He was once seen as such a mess,
That I was told to avoid him even at his best.
He was once such a force to be reckoned with,
That he could barely claim he had any friends left.
Since he seemed to destroy everything he touched,
And it was never with the intent of love.
But now he reaches for a future unknown,
And wants to prove what he has shown,
Is the side of him that will not rest,
Until he feels that he is doing his best.
He is sober and patient and willing to relate,
To the people who surround him,
Instead of be caught in the internal debate.
He believes that there is much more to be,
Than an intoxicated mess seeking sobirity.
He has always had the capacity to see,
That he is worth more than a good fuck with a bottle of whiskey.
His thoughts wage a war inside his captivating mind,
And his struggle is rooted deep on the inside,
Since he never seems to speak,
About the transgressions he has a habit to repeat.
“I’ll try anything twice,”
Were the words he spoke in plain advice,
To a girl who wanted more than just his body,
And saw strength amongst his folly.
“I’ll give everyone a chance,”
Were the words she shared in advance,
Of the trials they were about to ensue,
And the struggle that they would grow closer through.
He was a man who was seeking to take a stand,
Against the women who had wronged him.
She was a woman who had been longing,
For a man who would proudly hold her hand.
They were not meant for eachother,
But the circumstances would prove otherwise,
As they grew to know each other with time.
It was not the first moment they spoke when these feelings were evoked,
And it was not the first time they had encountered each other’s kind.
This was not love born naturally,
It was instead born out of necessity.
Since they both had an unquenchable need,
For the other person to believe,
That they could be more than the past they see.