Swimming into thoughts of suicide, Trapped in a dark cage on a bed wanting to fly but feeling my weak wings falling apart.. I'm trying to get up but my mind is controlling my body.. The demons are living inside me pushing the thoughts towards my body, I'm weak, I'm tired and I can't choose to either get up or retire..
My mind is controlling me. What is happening to me?

There's this thought that tells me to hold the knife and let it kiss my skin until my body drowns in red. Nah I never wanted death to come take me, I just want the voices inside my mind to die and set me free..
A soul once told me that the waves will stop pushing, the thunderstorms will stop screaming and the clouds will stop crying.. Trust me I'm fighting.

I'm not the one who put my life on hold, my mind is sold.. Sold to the demons who still didn't give me my gold.

Dear Harlot
You kept my soul in check.
The loneliness encased was spent.
Wonders of unending flesh.
And yet the scent is fleeting.
The seclusion returns afresh.
The ethereal heart deceiving.

What once brought sweet memories.
Now are void parentheses.
My empty arms are bare.
In addition a cadaverous stare.
Skin cold with horripilation.
Trudging on in desolation.

I long for comfort I confess.
To the skies I do profess.
For on the ground my feet shall stay.
Am I worthy whose to say.

Another harlot.
Anther day.
Not my harlot.
Not my harlot.
Not my harlot.

A glimpse of her visage I pray.
Solitude is how I pay.

The small rock representing your birth
engraved deep into a necklace
proving your worth
to the world
and to you

you,
the one sitting there
staring out into a moonlit sky
the thousands of twinkling stars
dapple the sky
as the whooshing wind whispers
belonging

You
the proud dark eyed girl
standing tall along an old wooded pier
the spray of the sea splatters your face with its salt
bellowing waves crash underneath your feet
shouting,
You belong

And You
are still here
one of many
on this earth
loved and guided
through this life and to the next
and you,
**belong

Some value money,
Some value time,
Some value success,
Some just want to feel fine.

Some give their all,
Some give only half,
Some give none,
Some give more than they have.

Always on the run, we aim and strive,
Running on empty, yet we never arrive.

But what is our goal?
What leads to fulfillment?
Giving the world
One hundred percent?

We lose ourselves trying to gain,
And then we're lost, but who's to blame?
Giving our all in search of bliss,
Is success found in emptiness?

You deserve balance,
It's your life to live.
So oh, please remember,
Emptiness cannot give.

You are the silence
in an overflowing room,
overlooking the brim of
the glasses full of art that
are about to s p i l l forth
from you able hands. i am
the low murmur of voices,
ebbing through an empty
room - no shortage of
"excuse me"s or of
cleared throats.

You are love, when love
disguised itself as ink and
ran freely through pages
in lines that looked a lot
like poetry, only if
one looked. i am the short
staccato splutters of syllables
splattering and spoiling
fresh canvases of pure
imagination - rendering them
u n c l e a n,
        u n u s a b l e,
                u n d e s i r a b l e

you and i, we swirl through
pages and mics and minds
and crowds and rooms and blinds
like no shackles forged from doubt
could ever bind us.

There's something about
opening a bottle of colour -
knowing
that any way it spills
won't spell A-R-T at your hands.
let's call it the audacity of trying,
and
move on.

Same thing for a lump of clay -
lying in front of you,
waiting for creative violence,
but you know that your thoughts
don't have fingers,
your ideas don't have arms.
let's call it the pointlessness of wishing
and
move on.

Don't look at the camera -
the eager buttons waiting,
glinting in the hope of your touch
a lens waiting to be turned -
knowing that your eye can never
translate your sight into art,
your vision will never equal
an image.
let's call it the imperfection of waiting,
and
move on.

My last hope is a pen.
my fingers rush over it,
finding solace in known grooves
where my fingers have settled
time and again.
i call it the comfort of a story.

and this time,
*i stay

Baby girl, your mama is sorry for giving birth to you in a place where you've always called hell.
Baby girl, I will carry you in my arms and stay up all nights singing to you lullabies till you fall asleep and peace kills the weakness that's in your heart..

I'll be here telling you how beautiful you are when the guy who stabbed your heart left without even a goodbye.
It is okay, the sun shines after the rain.
There is happiness after pain, and peace after war.
And I know it's hard for a person to keep punching when his hands are drowning in blood.
But I know somethings baby girl, you're your mama's powerful sunshine, your mama's strong moonlight and the sparkling stars itself.
I believe that you are the most powerful thing  in this ****** up life.

Nobody is perfect, so don't bother looking for a perfect hand to fit in yours.
And if you really need someone who's perfect and devoted.. You got your own self.
Cause nobody will understand you and respect you more than you do, kid.

I'll show you how to hold the pencil and draw, I'll help you be the person you want to become..


I will let you investigate, I will let you discover and learn about this life without me standing there behind you telling you what to choose and what to not to.

There will be days when you get get stabbed from the back from enemies you saw them best friends.
But just keep going forward, never backwards unless you will go forward even harder..

Never look to the past unless you'll learn from the mistakes you did before.

Don't ever hold their hands if they're not holding yours.

And when you fall, push yourself and stand up straight, it may hurt. But you will thank me later.

Your mama will push you through every step you step, and give you her own brain and watch you eat it while smiling.

I never met you.
but I know that when I do, I'll love you more than Kanye west loves himself.