Your Projections

Your Projections

By: Tyler Ross

Sometimes I wanna tear out my skull 

and reveal the rotting pain bruises below.

I need closure and your secrets unleashed

and these sleepless nights to end

so I can find some peace.

I want something to ease my mind,

the ripping at my heart has me falling behind.

I’m fucking sad, and I want it to end,

and I don’t have enough energy to phone a fucking friend.

I’m all alone and the shadows seep in,

it’s getting darker

and my mood won’t fucking bend.

Back to happiness you’ve been stripping from me

all because you’re not happy with who you think you should be.

Projections!

I woke again, tormented by dreams

and still your constant silence ripping at my seams.

Shed my skin, let it all in

exposed to the bone and scared, 

my thoughts are turning grim.

I want you to think of me and not just yourself,

the damage you’re doing 

and destroying my fucking health.

You say you truly love me, 

but you’re forcing me out to be the victim, 

now numbing me with fucking doubt.

I feel diseased plagued by your own scars,

I’ve been walking a million miles, while you’ve got the car.

Left behind, I can’t climb out this well

You’re slowly cutting our rope while I scream for help

in hell.

Your projections!

Projections!

Sad

Sad
By: Tyler Ross

Its 2am
and my sexual frustrations find me
masturbating on the toilet
feeling sorry for myself
because
I am a bummed out
sucker, who treated the girl he likes
a bit too nicely
or so it seems...
Now feeling the ignoring process
roll on through,
my mind reaches out
into the silence
for hope,
but my lonely libido
distracts and
numbs the hurt
for just a couple minutes
before
I start to miss her again.

Monkey See, Please Do

Monkey See, Please Do

By: Tyler Ross

When every human 

starts 

to care for others 

without any expectations or 

anything in return, 

then you can talk 

to me 

about empathy.

20 Plus Years

20 Plus Years
By: Tyler Ross

I’m uncomfortable

at the constant

thought that I miss

my friends.

The only ones left,

they’re inside my head.

I once spoke to a woman

that told me

if someone doesn’t make

the effort

in return

after three tries,

to let up.  But I

never quite

understood,

because I cared so fucking much for
those I wanted close

kept getting so far

away.

I miss when my friends missed me. 
Wanted to see me. 
Life is lonely 
when efforts are made in sizable numbers, 
but the number 
in return 
formulated this hole 
into my heart. Fuck feeling 
the efforts I’ve employed 
return as I feel sad,
disappointment. I used to not care, 
but as I get older I care 
more to have my friends.