stay.tonight,we aremore than chemicals and cognition,higher than concrete constellations,and we hold the fire of the starson the tips of our tongues.tomorrow,there may be hell to payfor stealing the moon from the nightand the thoughts from our minds.but tonight,just stay with mea little while.stay and count our heartbeatslike the measures of a lullabybetween twilight and sunrise.stay with mejust a whisper below the atmosphere,and let us forgethow to die.stay with mefor just a momentof eternal life.
tides.and maybe ican't control these tides,but if i learn to breatheand float along,i'll never haveto drown.
i am the trigger.i'm sick of beinga hardwired heartbeatwhen you're alreadyhealing your scars. (i just need to be loved like you.)but i am the triggerthat sets you on fireand erases the starsfrom your satin sky.so you find your faithin phantom hurricanesand seal it shutwith alien melodies,and you bury yourselfseventeen feet underwith the bones and the ashesof who i used to be.
december.she was the girl of skin-covered bones, sunken waterlily eyes, and papier-mâché words. but the thing i miss most about her was the sound of her eyelashes brushing over her cheeks. there wasn't much else to her than her gentle music; you couldn't really see her, you could only hear her presence: her shallow breathing, her feeble heartbeat.but now her body is nothing but ash and ice, floating far beneath the surface.and i really wonder if she was really alive to begin with, because it was winter when she died, both literally and figuratively. she had seasons: summer was burning, winter was frozen over. autumn was middle ground, and spring frankly didn't matter because she slept straight through.she was a solstice, an equinox, a stunning star just waiting to implode.that day, she told me that she weighed seventy-four-point-three pounds. i made the mistake of telling her that that wasn't beautiful.she told me she was tired and said she'd spend tomorrow catching up on her res
abstract art.in this mindand in this dream,i'm a fucking picassowith words at myright handand a beating,breaking heartfor a canvas.but in this worldand in this mirror,i'm still the samedullgreygirlwith tired eyesand tripping tongue.so i beg you,i dare you,make these wordsmore than justdrops of rainthat falland falland falldown my face - make them an ocean. yes, make them an ocean.
n.i've found pieces ofpeace in a boy with apuzzle-mind that starvesin the darkness and turnstruth to tragedy. heis a ghost of aghost of me, pusheddeeper under water, pushedfarther into fire, andhe circles and cycles highabove it all, paintedblue, speaking of turning asanctuary into asuicide scene.through wind andrain, in hurricane,i have unearthed thesecret of God. (love is patient, love is kind...)
graduation.the funniest thing isi think i found myselfbetween pages of prose and poetrythat will someday stop this worldfor just a momentand let it cry, let it scream,let it quake and burst and end,end end end,just to begin again.and i think tomorrow,there will be tears for it all. for 'you actually cared and that changed everything,' for 'maybe my brain really is a lovely place,' for 'the only things forensics taught me are that there is method to madness &
disease.i had a dream ofa porcelain girlwho called herself 'disease,'and when i triedto shatter her,it was only killing me.
war.come into this.come down with meinto the blackened battlefieldof my body and my mind.this is war, my love.and in a world full of triggersbegging to be pulled,i crawl, tired and small,longing for nothing morethan to cage the feathered thingthat's curled withinthat slowly but surelykills.
jupiter.and if i could foldjupiter into your armsand let gravity slip through your fingers, would you feel alive or be too afraid to fall?if i could guide youto the horizon, would youstand out on the edge and convince yourself to fly, or hold your breath and crash into the sea?your eyes could shine likemilk and moonlight, if you werewilling to believe. let me piece these words together and pin them to the deepest night andnever let them fadeamongst the silver stars andbroken satellites, so when the sky is finally burning, i can&
don't.tonight, i will peel backthe sky beneath my skinand count the raindropsthat are slowly bleedingthrough.tonight, i will reach fartherthrough these rusted bones,and craft the harshest wordsthat will rip apart mysoul.tonight, i will waste away,weaving a tender wombthat will never be givenlife.tonight, i am trappedin a weak and foreign bodythat i will never learn toescape.tonight, i will allow painto be conceived andborn.tonight feels like theend.but tonight, i am thedawn.
the room we'll burn to ashes.there are static waves thatcrawl from the radio, cracklinga 1950's love song thatno one has ever written.there is a broken man on themuted television, forming atight-lipped smile that will sellhouses and not homes.there are lace curtains andcotton sheets that sing thediscord of lonely fingers andbone-snapping dreams.there is a dimming lightbulb thatis flickering overhead andslowly burning out.there are dying branches andplastic flowers that cover thesharpening memories of acolor-coated love.there are wires that tangle acrossthe floor and speak of theone inside these pulsingveins and electric reactions.there are rotting teardrop stains onthe polished cherry wood, atestimony of a life that wasnever truly alive.there is a number tacked to theceiling as a reminder that theyare not the crazy ones.there is twisted handwriting thatscreams the consequences ofcontemplating blood and beauty anddeath and domination.there are sweet serpents andsickly honey that s
This Is MoreThis is more thanMy suicide noteThis is more thanSome lovestruck heartbreakI love youLike I lovedMy own fatherYou have been, are, and always will beMy whole lifeThis is more thanAn infatuationThis is more than meThis is youSo why won't you see?
The Red SeaThere's a muscle with a reason.It's red, so I've seen in pictures.Every cell inside of it contracts and livessome die,but enough remain to keep the blood pumping.And from this beating thinga ball of fleshthat never stopsis something we call heart,a presence that has nothing to dowith the function of its namesake.A pain factory,a place where love is born,feeding on itself when there's no one to give it to,bleeding through the walls of an unseen prison,self-contained, twirling in apology:"I'm sorry" to the world for being a coward,too weak to play the ancient game of survival,the one that makes us breed like rabbits,that spawns a thing called self-preservation,that gives a power to protect our chosen mate,our children,the ones we'll never have...How can I believe in evolutionwhen I've never grown beyond the thingthat makes perpetuation nothing more than the dreamof a species close to extinction Me...I am the animal...No wish, no prayer, no
Soakeda rainbowspectrum ofsoft bruisesnestles inthe spacebetween herfingertipsand heartbeat.a silent reminder ofall the nightsshe spent inthe solitudeof yourcompany.
friday.5am conversationsand a river and railroadcan show that things may neverbe trueor falseor known,and that is wherei stand,but i stumbleat this crossingbetween love and loss,because they have the same eyes,the same stare,an identical pair,but one is an oceanand the otheris you. love, i'm not crazy, we're not crazy, i and you and we, we are just breathing, and i, i think i'm finally living.yes,we are justmoths and butterflies,two and one,turning in the burning sun,and so maybe i'mnot worth more thana couple rhymesand a summer solstice,but love,these,these are the wordsthat i could never writebecause they are too loud for the page
mirror.i argue with a reflectionof shaded eyesand sharpenedtongues. but no one ever wins, for neither truly knows which side the other
without.i want to carve the life from my bonesand write something beautiful for you.but if my words were blood,i would not bleed,because without themand without you,i cannot breathe,i cannot be.i want to steal the world from the skyand burn it to ashes for you.but if the oceans were love,i would not need,because without themand without you,i'm lost at sea,i am not free. i'm nothing, love, nothing at all, nothing at all.
DepressionBeing sad is normal.Depression is not.Depression is more common than people think.Others do not understand what it feels like for the blade to be across your skin.They do not know that black hole in your soul that eats at you.The only way out of the black hole you see is red.When people say "I know how you feel" you sink deeper.Trying to bring you out only makes you dig deeper sometimes.You feel worthless and a burden.Depression eats at your soul until you give in.You never know when depression will hit or what will trigger it.Even though you can't see it the only way out is not red color but flesh color.Color of the people who truely love you and hope to reach you in time.No one can be forced out of depression.No one will survive depression if left on their own.Do not let anyone who suffers from depression suffer alone.No matter what the person tells you.Depression ends in red if no one cares.Let depression end not in red but in life.
DepressionAll I want from life is death,so rob me now of my last breath.To find relief from depressionis my only obsession.So sing me to sleepwith your broken melody,as I drift into a world unknown....
DepressionShe stands on the edge of the lonely abyssContemplates jumping to death's final kiss.Anger and bitterness fire through her veinsSilently she waits as strength slowly drains.No life is allowed near, just rock ash and sand,This place is her mood, just a barren wasteland.Though suffered before this type of bout.She cant break free, no way out, no way outHarsh wind whips through tousled hairIts haunting cry echo's her mounting despair.Heart beats so weak, beginning to list.So tense her stance, hand gripped into fist.Gasping for air that refuses to come,Skin so cold, her time so near to be done.Feeling so dizzy, close to a faint,Misery building from emotional taint.Time and again she has come to this place,Walking the same path at the same sullen pace.Feet always falling into the holes of her tracks,Made when she flees here, to hide what she lacks.So desperate now, and wanting to flee,These curses of depression, these feeling so empty.Nothing good can be made, this obs
depression.with thunder criesand lightning eyes,she crawls inside, needing, breathing, seething, feeding,darkening my mindas we entwine,and every time,i'm open wide.