"Help me," a frightened voice whispered. "STOP CALLING, especially at 2AM! It was fun but nothing special, a o-n-e n-i-g-h-t s-t-a-n-d." "Wait, what happened last night?" The boy stifled a laugh, through tears. "Superman lost his spandex's-wait who is this?" "Batman." - A boy made it his mission in grade eleven to add everyone in his grade as contacts. They all had a emoji for their contact name, unless they held significants to him. e.g: :) = 04 982 562 789 Now, two years into college, life is killing him. Literally. So he calls someone in his contact list, not knowing who, just asking for help because he was holding a bottle full of sleeping pills. He was the top jock, quarter back on the football team. Now he's no one.

" I enjoyed the way she smiled at the sunsets " I said at therapy. "The way she lit up a room when she entered. I dont want to believe she gone. Tabitha was my world, my life." I got a look from my therapist. She was an old woman, not to good looking now, but she was probably pretty in her day. I didnt know much about her, accept how she always had a response to my self pitty. "Eli, what was the world from your perspective before Tabitha?" The way i looked at her must have scared her because she leaned back in her chair. "There was no world before her. I was just a being, my state of mind not blinded by love. I wasn't lonely, nor was I happy. I was just Eli." She wrote on her note pad like she always does. Silence fell over the room and my heart began to beat faster. Over the years I learned to calm myself down. I counted in my head and I noticed things one would only put off. The wall was covered with pictures. Why was my mind reminding me of her. The pictures on the walls brought me back to feelings i had. When the girl who accepted the way i was mentally ill was still alive. The way she would look me in the eyes and remind me that i am Eli, sweet Eli. "Eli, I think you're going to be fine, the way you speak makes me cringe, but i believe if you find peace with yourself you will, how can i say, get better. What are you interested in? Have any hobbies i can put on record?" "Writing" I replied "What kind? Short stories, plays, poetry?" "I guess you can say that, i just write." " I want you to try and write your feelings," She got a smirk on her face, as if she thought i was listening inattentively to what she was saying. "You know, its a stress reliever. Im not prescribing you any medication this week. I just want you to write."

Poetry is the writing of our deepest, darkest, most inner thoughts. When speaking isn't enough and your voice falls upon deaf ears, writing is our only refuge. Join me and experience the workings of my mind in my collection of original poems. (Credit to user: UnresolvedFate for creating my cover) Copyright© All Rights Reserved to OnlyOneWhoCaresxx (Just don't steal, its not that hard)

an abundance of space metaphors and you. #1 in poetry 6/7/16

Just some crappy thoughts I managed to string together to create a decent sentence. I have no friends and the few I do have could care less. Rants I have decided are for the weak... I rant about everything from the color of the sky being a shade off or how people mange to walk over everybody. This gives me time to clear my mind of the empty and broken thoughts.

anthology of teenage destruction.

do you ever wonder what it would feel like to sink deep in the ocean and fade into trillions of stars ( miscellaneous poetry and prose ) © xnycophiliax [ two-thousand-&-fourteen ] lower case intended ( disclaimer ; i do not own the cover art - credit to whoever drew it )