monster

I made a monster
from taking parts of myself
that makes me uncomfortable
I made his body from my vanities
and his head from my bad thoughts
his hands from my insecurities
and his feet from my bad timing

I became the very monster I vowed to
protect myself from

it should be enough,
trying to create
something beautiful
it should be,
but it isn't.

that's how it starts

you cry before you can take
your first deep breath
you're ripped into being alive
and there is pain
and life is suffering
like a high pitched screech
buzzing in your ear that
never goes away
or a feral animal clawing
at the back of your skull

I have jumped from tall structures
and hoped no one would be stupid enough
to catch me
I have ended relationships for fearing people
would leave or, God forbid, love me

some days I am the mess
and some days I am the broom
and on days that I have to be both,
I can't seem to find the Sun
even if I'm in a desert
on a scorching hot day
because life doesn't feel like blue
or gray skies
it feels like no sky at all

I was told
I could live on the Moon
but I think I'd miss
the moonlight after a day

I'm a mess of conflicting impulses

a walking, breathing contradiction

I want to be alone and isolated

but I also want to belong and share

and be told that I make perfect sense

I want to make a home that didn't feel

like a prison

I want to not look at slipping my veins

as a glowing green exit sign

because I am more than just one thing,

and not all of those things are good

and not all of those things are bad

I want to learn to make clouds with

only my breath

and give the World more

but not everything

I want to know where the World ends

and where it begins

I want to tear them apart 

and pin them down

and pretend that when I woke up 

on that hospital bed

that there is no old me,

nor a new me

ripped into being alive