i breatheBreaths too shallow for deep lungs.
UntitledI'll forg/et/ive you.
For Your Eyes OnlyWe used to talk every day, for hours- from dawn til dusk. Until you slipped up- mentioned my name, and they told you I was dead.
when you're goneWhen you’re gone, I’ll miss youAnd when you’re here, I won’tAnd when you’re somewhere in between here and gone, I’ll miss you again.
Hey Guess What!PssssstI love you.That’s it.Literally.Okay.Bye.
SheShe wears a different colored and patterned undergarments which never fails to baffle those who may catch a glimpse of one or the other, if not both.She walks as though no one acknowledges her existence, as though she is but a ghost in a sea of living, breathing humans.She doesn’t know how much attention she draws to herself. She is ignorant in that regard but not in others.Her legs are covered in scars and bruises consistently and so she believes she isn’t beautiful, because who wants an abused doll?A doll, who, is afraid of intimacy and who doesn’t know what it feels like to be loved- despite her past filled with suitors, but they lied about such precious things.She wonders if she should seek out those who are broken like her or perhaps strive for those who are “whole”.She focuses on the smaller things of the bigger picture, silently painting the bigger picture on the ceiling of her skull.She wants to travel the world and see with her own two eyes
AlwaysI will love even if you cannot.
the amount of ache is unreasonableIt’s really quite the familiar ache of- - ghosts biting down on my bones- - Of their claws sinking into my lump of flesh that pumps oxygen in my blood to my body partsOf all the things you used to say slowly taking me apart.
Suit Of ArmorWhat people see on my outsideIsn't really me.It's just a suit of armorWith a welded smile.What people see on my outsideIsn't who I am.I say things I don't believe,And hide the things I like.What people see on my outsideIsn't how I feel.I laugh and joke and play,But I'm alone in a crowd.So before you're quick to judge meThink,Because what you see on my outsideProbably isn't me.
I Find MyselfI find myself reading between the linesAll too oftenWhen there’s actually nothing there to read.
Storms At Ungodly HoursYou are a hurricaneWhich sounds in no way elegant but then again what does sound elegant doesn’t properly describe what you are; which I mean in the best way possible, darlingYou and I are the rainWe cry together, during our hardships we both can withstand the rage we each emit; because unfortunately rage is a coping methodYou are the wind and I am leaves waiting for your assistance in order to fallYour voice is like the whipping wind which pierces the walls of my mind and I fall; my walls drop and let you inYou and I are the lightning in the midnight skyWe scream together, during our ridiculously rough times in our lives, we both light up the sky with fits of desperation for things to turn out okayWe are storms in our times of mourningWe are incapable of letting each other fallAnd with each other, we learn how to stand tall.
One Little ThingYou've paper cuts in your lungs, andyour mouth is filled to the brim with flyingd e b ri sYou tell those villains to unearth themselves,to rip their masks off,though you can't takeyet anotherbruiseYou've black eyes, and broken teeth,and can't stop the spell of cruel wordsthat burn your eyelids back-to-backInk is permanent and flammable,and someone set off a matchWhat if, beneath their needles,beneath the bloodied hands,and fingers that pull atyour bones (d i s i n t e g r a t i n g like the tail of a comet),what if they werewhat you used to be?What if,long ago,they were heroes, too?
i realized something today-I'm not alone&&Neither are you.
.how to comfort someonewith an anxiety disorder: tell them to grow up.god knowsthat they only panic because they're just not old enoughto handle themselves. say that it's notthat bad.because, hey,since it's not bad for you,it can't be for them. that's just how it works,right?"calm down".this oneis my personal favorite.because the one thingthat i want to hearwhen i'm choking on my own sweatand heartis that i need to calm down.
nightmares and lavender owlsdear night-bonesdo not marinade in the melanchorand allow your feeble surfacesto become slippy andelusiveunder the fingertips of sanity -don't become a semblance,a representationof reality, just be.there's no need for lavenderto perfumiae the dusk gardenthat thoughtless flowerdoes not grow here.unobtrusiveafter the broken attempts -of cracked knucklesas they claw a representationof beauty, into soil.oh, to that intrical fluidsludging throughthinly veined cribbagesof capillary and thought,illusive,illusive thought -don't slumber to a stopand leave me destitute and dehydratedof truth, of life.dear sanity,do not betray mewith your sharp and unsoft pricksof the realityintrusiveinto my ribs--don't sharpen my sensesto the point of self harm by thought,of thought,oh bones and sanityand the screeching owlsthat herald in a death-silencethat coos the word;"reclusive"do not ask of me more than i can bare -don't, please, ask meto endure the blade-in-brain
My Dear, You Are My LightLight-It illuminates the darkness that is trying to nuzzle against my templesThat is trying to take me down and keep me underTo a place that I do not want to be&&-Somewhere along the way I began to realizeThat I could not swim up from the dark depths of the ocean and survive on my ownSo I reached out and took a hold of a hand that had been patiently waiting for me all along.
Unless You Take To Me With A ShotgunI’m a zombie at heartI guess it could explain why my love never dies.
like your cigarette smoke * * . i. * . am &
I wish...I wish I could seeWhat life would beIn times to comeIf my soul wasn't gone
Lest You ForgetAs I looked into the starry skyAnd watched the path being paved with goldI saw my life in a single sighAnd watched my death slowly unfold.It was a slow death, drawn and longAs I watch the pavement meet my eyesAs I lay to listen for the angels’ songA singular thought ran through my mind.“Will I be remembered,” I suddenly cried.But no-one stopped to offer a glance.“Will I be forgotten?” it ran through my mind.“Will I not be given a second chance?”Then all went black, I woke up to seeMy heart racing, my forehead dowsed with sweatI pen these lines for all to seeBecause the Timer of life has now been set.Dear reader.This isn’t a legacy for when I leaveBut a simple reminder, lest you forget.
Survival of the FittestHear me read itI am crack'd. Open to the pitwith the nub and root exposed.I am silver pierced and puncturedwith holes and protruding piecesof rocked raw wounds rubbed open.I am barely shattering my lungsby inhaling the same air as youeven long after your departure.With a bile-laced smile I paveand fill in crack and crevicesI am more than disfigured limbsand disillusioned heart muscle,scraping a breath down my trachea.More than the mess you have made.I hold in my innards, and survive.
Tips on Getting Me Through a CrisisLove me.Remember I am stillthe woman you know.I am still foundin every partof this body's rhythm--I am in the ka-thump, ka-thumpof my heartbeat,the steady flowof blood that courses riverson its way to these limbs.Remember that. Even when I seem gone,I am still here.ii.Do not promise to never leave.People leave. Hearts grow oldand heavy; I do not wantto be a burden you carry--I do not want to be an obligationto a promise.If you need to leave,leave, but be honestif you tell meyou're coming back.iii.Ignore the voice in your headlying to you. I am tired. I am weary,but my heart has not goneand I still appreciate you.Forgive me for not singingmy usual songs. I have not forgottenor moved on without you,but the plover nestled behind my tonsilsswoops, swoops. She believesshe protects me, even as her beaksplits my throat.iv.Remember and remind me.I may be hidingbeneath the covers,tucking myself into a cupboardlike a skeleton,or scratching through walls
maybemake sure you bury the lightsomewhere safe,and forgetwhere you put it,andand i don't knowwhy i'm writing this.maybe it's because i want you to be able tobreathemy poetryin and outso maybe you can understand,but now i knowthat i don't knowwhy oxygen keeps me aliveor how neurons are working,hand in metaphorical hand,to get me to write thisor why gravityis pushing my shoulders ever downward.i don't know a lot of things.i don't knowwhy the juice i drank an hour agomade me feel like it was scotch,or why the string quartetfrom titanicalways makes me cryor why i painted my nailslavender and greybut i can guess.maybeoxygen is magic.maybeneurons are actually little peopleworking to make me happy.maybegravity hates meand wants to see me suffer.maybethat juice was just that damn good.maybethe string quartet guyswere actually a huge hidden partof that movie's emotional appeal.maybelavender and grey are just myfavorite colorsand maybe some thingsdon't
Random thoughtLove is like oxygenYou need it to liveBut it kills you slowly
November Spreads Her WingsLiver-spotted leavescreaking bows arching overthe space between my cheekbones, oaken hollow.Fly away with the summerlet the winter slosh before it settlesin its marshland womb.They never stay, do they,they never stay.Bottle up your seashells,and desert stones, slick with gritkeep them locked away from your heart.Lie empty save for wood-thrushespining for the mountains dwindling.Turn your ashen face to the starsbut even they cannot hear youdo they wish they could? Would they cryto see me hang my head low, weepingor to hear the laughter in your closetfaithless at last.Still green with envy, you rip my scarvesand coats and hats, all the thingsthat keep my eyes on the ground, voice silentso that even the stars will never hear me.And you sit on your cloven bed, crown crumblingwatch me take a step off this seasonwatch me down the whole bottle.watch the stars glimmer, and be lost.
ProcrastinationHurry up and stop your procrastinating!
Beneath The SurfaceI think I’d like to run into the seaAnd let the salty depths engulf me.