I can't deal and
I can't believe
I didn't see the signs
I mean they were
You were feeling
Trust me I know
That feeling all too
But that's no excuse
I still love you
With most my heart
To be truthful
But not all
Not like it used to be
I'm not sure
What it was
And I truly am sorry
It seemed as if
I didn't care
But oh my God
The problems back
You don't understand
You never have
I'm not the bad guy
I'm just a kid
I'm learning how to live
You aren't concerned about that
You just wait ..
Feeding me false hope..
Until you find a flaw
Then those kind words
Now you scream
Now you yell
I'm just a kid
I'm imperfect like everyone else
Don't break my trust
..you already have..
I'm like a rodent
You're test rat, project "x"
I just want to be your daughter
I want advice on life
I want help being a teen
I need your support
But I have to remember
Not to listen the false hope
You'll take it back tomorrow
Like it was fog in the air
It'll always disappear
Can I please just leave
If only these walls could talk
They'd tell the tale
Of you and I
On the outside it looks beautiful
White trim, big porch
Oh but darling on the inside
These walls are stained with red secrets
It's unbearable to look at
All lie inside this house
..Not beautifully broken..
And now I stain my pillow
With the tears of my pain
..Because you've attacked again..
How do you know that the pilgrim track
Along the belting zodiac
Swept by the sun in his seeming rounds
Is traced by now to the Fishes’ bounds
And into the Ram, when weeks of cloud
Have wrapt the sky in a clammy shroud,
And never as yet a tinct of spring
Has shown in the Earth’s apparelling;
O vespering bird, how do you know,
How do you know?
How do you know, deep underground,
Hid in your bed from sight and sound,
Without a turn in temperature,
With weather life can scarce endure,
That light has won a fraction’s strength,
And day put on some moments’ length,
Whereof in merest rote will come,
Weeks hence, mild airs that do not numb;
O crocus root, how do you know,
How do you know?
I like to think that I tried.
But at the same time
they used to like to think that the world was flat
and that green eyes meant that you were cursed.
I also like to think that I would go to the end of the galaxy for you,
just so that I could fetch a few stars and bring them back
to show you that not every light is burnt out yet.
I like to think that the scars on both of our wrists
will fade with time and will heal with care.
But so far, the redness has not subsided.
Your voice is still ringing in my ears.
I’m not sure what you are saying, but you’re there.
And you’re here.
For the most part, you are everywhere.
And if I could spend one more restless night
curled in your arms so that I could kiss the inside of your wrist
and hope for magic to appear, I could die tomorrow
and be okay with that.
My tombstone could be painted yellow
and my corpse could grow flowers.
All because I hoped for a little magic
while the howling wind touched the windowpane
and your breath quickened on my shoulder.
I would let the coolness of your eyes
take my memory back to the Bahamian sea.
I would let the flutter of your eyelashes remind me
of the rainbow parrotfish and the fire coral.
I would let the salty softness of your skin sink into mine
so that maybe I won’t be so sharp anymore.
I would let myself drown in you
and this time
I wouldn’t call for help.
I would save my last gasping breath
to let you know how beautiful you are.
Then I would succumb to your sea
and I would sink to the bottom
to let my corpse plant flowers in you.
a certain lost is like hopeless
only without the know,
it's a cruel two layers of ice
beneath it, so cold
to be drunk on sin
and caving in
to be hollow
to be shallow
all the echoes bouncing off to you,
but the ice is soo deep
all the echoes bouncing off you
and the darknesses you keep
. . .
and 'found' is a purpose
a treasure within
and plastic is plastic
placebo, cheap sheets
thin and worn from overuse
your body hanging from
(a stranger said
"please put that away
it's only for show,
you're just playing a game."
you tried to explain,
what use in the pain?
so put on your raincoat
and suck up the rain.)
and that's where i'm heading
but first must confess
i haven't been found yet
can i guess where i've been?
There is a voice inside me, she is the younger version of me.
And she is terrified of the person I am becoming.
She is knocking on my nerves and rattling my bones.
She's that tiny voice trying to eliminate the demonic voices.
"I want out" she screams "this is not who I want to become".
I am not a girl controlled by numbers.
Stop counting calories and restricting.
Don't pick up that blade, it won't save you.
He loves you idiot! Why can't you see that?
You're sitting in you room pushing everyone away.
Once they leave for good it will drive you insane.
You think you're crazy now, just watch as the time goes by.
It will eat at your conscience, I promise you'll hate yourself more.
Why did you stop doing the things you love?
Who are you?
This is not the girl who frolicked in the meadows and embraced the sunlight.
You are dark, lifeless, and cruel. I would say you're better off dead but that girl is still there.
Hidden beneath all of the addictions, medication, and diseases.
Go ahead and list off all of the things wrong with you.
4. Eating Disorder
Yes, you have them but that isn't who you are.
The disease can only kill you once you become it.
Find yourself, find me, find this girl you only have so much time.
ruby lays on her king size bed
listening to keaton
his voice soothes her heart
she draws deeply from her phallic piece pipe
staring ahead into nothing
she can see the white smoke in the stem
she makes it dance into her lungs
she has the house to herself
well as "to herself" as it gets
with threes kids, two dogs, four (yes,four) cats
and a turtle named sheldon
but the humans are gone
and ruby has the smallest of moments
just a few hours
where she feels herself
these moments are precious
like 8:43am on a wednesday
she can cry
she laughs and has conversations with ghosts
she dances with demons
kisses them right on the lips
with a soft urgency thats electric
she can tell herself
anything....anything at all
and believe it