i'm really not photogenic

they are only perfect pictures,
of people,
and groups of people,
and everybody just seems so natural
and happy,
like they were born that way.

i see them
and then i look in the mirror,
and all i see are factions
of ghosts.

i just don't want to be here
at those moments.
i'm not big enough
or evolved enough
to comprehend any words
of a buddha,
or the actions of any artist who
has the balls
to lock themselves in their studio
apartment for days,
without phone,
protein,
or sex.

i'm smart enough to realize
how a thought causes avalanches,
and right now,
i've buried myself
once again,
in a past full of yellow snow.

people think i'm not afraid,
but i am.
i'm scared as fuck
that i'll die alone,
without one person understanding
at least
90% of my sum.

when i bleed,
i gush,
and my chest is covered
in these memorials
that already have roots beneath
my skin.

you love them,
then they are gone,
and you're gone.
you're lying on a bed,
alone,
wishing like hell
that every picture
ever shot
did not feel like bullets
festering
inside your chest.