The Terrorist Raging within You

He jumped in front of a train that night.
Yes, he jumped in front of a
slow, moving, train.
Filling the air with the sound of a garbage bag full of fallen leaves,
exploding as it is jumped upon.

I wanted to tell him,
No, there is more to life than the ugly scars humanity
has sowed upon the back of this place called home.

There is more than the shout of 
anger, pain and sadness
coming from a child, 
as he, as she,
is being explored with hands inscribed with skin folds,
which hold the “wisdom” that comes with time.

Yes the grumblings of a stomach makes your heart ache.
Yes the rubbing of a stranger’s hand over dying embers tug at your tears,
but you cannot just opt out of this place.

The scars of humanity have blossomed into red poppies,
dusted with the pollen of hate, resentment and judgment.

The child, 
he, she,
has grown into a man, a woman,
mentally incapable to touch, to be touched.
Suffering in silence as memories of their childhood wash over them,
searing hot like metal rods being molded into their dictated shape.

No, you cannot just opt out of life.
You cannot just jump in front of a train and let me, let us,
wash the truth you have seen from the face of this earth.

I do not want to see the glistening black metal covered in you.
I do not want to see the truth you discovered, oh so ungracefully, spread all over the train.

I do not want to see you gone at all. 

There is more to life than the sadness, discontempt, 
you feel, hear and see.

So do not opt out of life.

Do not opt out of life. 

My boyfriend Steven left to go to San Diego for boot camp. I have yet to feel the severity of his absence yet, but I’m sure tomorrow the loneliness and silence will kick in and ruin my mind. I was definitely productive today though; I packed all my things for college. I have one gigantic box and one little box and two jumbo space bags filled with clothes and two file cabinets and a violin and a mirror and a shelf… Goddamn, I have a lot of shit. I hope my roommates forgive my surplus of things in our apartment. I just like being prepared. I haven’t taken any meds in three days. I don’t feel particularly worse. I wonder if I will do any good tomorrow. My henna is fading rather rapidly. I want to get another one, but I’m scared I’ll get the Somalian lady who does them sloppy. I’m scared of a lot of things. Like, finding dead bodies on my morning jog. Or losing teeth from biting on a very hard apple. I dreamt last night that I was stuck in a room full of freezing water and dead bodies and there was a rattling door and I couldn’t decide if wading through the corpsy water was worse than whatever was waiting for me outside the door. Good night, Tumblr.