I'll scream to break this oath of silence
sworn to keep me from
darkest corners of my mind.
A tidal wave to break the levees
I put up to promise that I'll be fine.

You were never in it
for me, only yourself.
Just a player moving a pawn.
Always saw things in pros and cons,
black and white, I am the grey.

Here I lay in the middle
of your dreams and your worst nightmare:
too good to let go, too painful to keep close.
I linger in the shadows,
so that you can be tolerant.
Took this oath of silence,
for your peace of mind.
(Because I need you more
than you've ever needed me.)

You were never in it
for me, only yourself.
Just a player moving a pawn.
Always saw things in pros and cons,
black and white, I am the grey.

I'll scream to break this oath of silence,
a tidal wave to bring down the levees.
I'll scream to bring your worst nightmares
into sight, I'll bring down the walls of your dreams.

I needed you more than you ever needed me.

Another dream,
another time,
I'm not calling you.
Just another night
I have to pull through.

You taught me well
of the world's faults.
I knew I'd watch as friends
came and went- I can stand that,
but not how our story ends.

yeah, well
pictures aren't worth everything-
maybe a thousand words,
but not the sound of a voice or
the whisper of a touch
or that moment when you met
and you just knew.

I couldn't give you a picture
to tell you this story
of a girl I met six months ago
who didn't take my breath,
but gave me air.

the crooked smile and the
bright eyes dimmed by reproduction
the nervous hands and the awkward, yet comfortable
silences and conversation,
and the littlest touches
that always seemed so overwhelming.

the shared cigarettes and habits
and the missed calls and exchanges
the constant waiting and looking
and hope that she'd still be there;
the hooks that caught and sunk and
never got cut loose
so there were never any ends to tie.

the looks and the hints of a smile
of a feeling, of a desperation
for something new and unknown
and overall, dangerous.

I could give you a picture,
it just wouldn't be fair.

the worst finally happened
and now, the dreams-
I can't stand them.
no motivation, no ambition
why should I, when you
didn't.

sleeping is unthinkable,
(hours with my guard down)
I am ravaged, and by morning
it's as if I never closed my eyes
the exhaustion just multiplies.

what's the worst that could happen?
I lose my head? my mind? my goals?
peace is achieved slowly, and they keep saying
"Just don't bottle it up."
well I keep releasing, and the tension
just
BUILDS
when do I break?

all the crying, the writing,
the screaming, the fighting,
it's the tip of the ice berg.
and everyone wants to TALK.

what use is talking, when the feelings
have no name? when the feelings are simply
too big, and too much, they've all run together.
I don't know which came first:
the anger or the pain?
the disappointment or the shame?

I am left with all of these questions.
and you have left me no answers.
no last words, no last gift,
no goodbye,
nothing.

Nothing builds up.

These days, not much comes into this weary mind.
I am finally beat down, I think.
I think I gave in to life, cruel mistress as she is.
I have my passion curbed and my hunger bottled,
and hopefully I will not shed blood for some time.
Although, I feel it's been too long since I've ripped you open
and laid inside your wounds.
I am picking at my scabs in idle wonder,
asking the kinds of questions they teach good girls not to think.
The how's and why's and causes of all that is bad,
and good.
I cannot understand the concepts I once cherished.
I cannot feel the fires that once burned.
I am becoming numb, and angry,
and violent as ever.
I am hellbent on destroying something-
probably myself.
But it all means nothing, if you believe that we live and we live
and we live
just to die.
On the flipside, of course, everything matters so much more.
I crave experience and adventure and new skin.

I cannot deny my need for blood and violence forever,
but hopefully the wounded will understand.

These days I am breathless,
Speechless and sleepless-
But not dreamless.

I am chalk full of imagination,
Running rampant in the dreary hours.
I hold your hand and hear your voice
All through the night,
Forgetting that I am no longer waking,
Never realizing that I am always dreaming.

At these dreadful hours,
My insides flip out and
I
am
Exposed
To the crows of the night;
Picking my decaying flesh as I writhe
Behind closed lids.

These days the meaning of peace is defined
By the pills I can find;
And the
Hurt
I can avoid;
And the dreams that I will
Forget, or bypass, whichever the chemicals
Choose.

frankly
I'm beginning to think that
everything is overrated
and I'm just sinking down underneath
the feet that have trod this path
a million times before
I was ever born.

I know we all walk the same way,
basically, and we all speak the same way-
diaphragm to lung to pharynx to tongue and teeth and lips
to ears
we are easily redesigned and programmed
to mimic those set before us
tweaking the most minute circumstance
and making it our own.
I know this, I know.

but what I want is nothing
something new and unbreakable
but what I want is overrated
and has been thought of.

we all have the same chances
the same mistakes
the same footprints,
essentially speaking.

we're all just bags of pulsing
muscles, bones,
blood and guts
moving forward, or backwards
(if you just squint your eyes and lean in
a little closer).

in a world where anyone can make it,
no one really does-

I know.