The whiskey well has run dry, each drop slowly flowing and exiting. Seeping out of pores and fading into the night sky.

Body aches and mind begins to wander down crooked paths into dark oblivion. A vice that kills while it fills deep holes of shattered self esteem.

A slow suicide by ethanol and clouds of green. Sprinkle some snow to feel serene. Dancing with monsters on fine lines of moon light, flirting with the reaper and laughing with delight.

Ignite the desire to drown my regrets by playing a game of Devil's roulette.

There is a man who some have said
was born with a silver spoon in his
mouth.

To this man I was born. In that moment
he held me with a love every father has
for their baby girl.

Little did I know at that moment those
dark eyes would haunt my dreams.

For years to come he would teach me to
ride a bike and hold my hand crossing
the street.

But behind closed doors he taught me
fear, manipulation and guilt.

As I grew up I lived in fear of the man
that gave me life because he had the
power to shatter the fragile life that beat
inside my little heart.

As time went by his sickness grew in his
shadowed heart. A sickness that slowly
made me die inside painfully piece by
piece.

With knees pressed to my chest I am
numb from the memories I am forced
to relive day after day.

Behind my smile and open eyes lies a
small girl tangled in fear and darkness.

With dainty hands outstretched to the
sky, I pray that I could fly away to a
place where he can't see me.

Every "I love you" that rolls off his lying
tongue makes the hate inside me grow.

The life of that little girl I once was went
up in angry flames and from the ashes I rise
to see the monster I call my father.

He slips away into the chaos he calls his
wonderful purpose driven life.

The same fear I've known for so long,
it almost feels like home, is shaken from
my shoulders like a crushing weight is lifted.

As he leaves my life he carries my hurt like a
badge of honor and leaves me breathlessly
wishing that those hateful eyes of deceit no
longer haunt me.

Form the destruction I rise strong and willful.
may he forever remain shackled by his sickness
unable to break that shattered baby girl.

To this man I was born with his name branded
on my skin. From this man I walk away and
never look back.

I am a walking contradiction. I am two souls in
one body. Twins that never split in the womb,
born with two souls, two separate streams of
thought. Two twisted hearts but only one body,
one face, one voice.

On the surface I am Moriah, everything on the
outside is simple. Moriah is the face who advertises
the product. The Marlboro Man of the tobacco industry.
SHE is the tobacco industry, the evil secret no one can see,
the alter ego.

My actions, reactions, my outer surface does not
correlate to the world in my head. My mind is a
complex, infinite universe all of its own functioning
within this universe we call home. On the inside SHE
is angry, powerful, strong, reckless, primal. SHE doesn't
give a flying ****.

On the outside I am sweet, powerless, weak, careful and
I care way too **** much. I am day, SHE is night.
I am a simple smile, a kind hello, the occasional laugh.

SHE is an evil grin, a cold *******, the frequent thriller.
I take the snide remarks, close my lips and sink away.
On the inside SHE is screaming, "*****!" and throwing
fists. I am quiet and meek. SHE is loud and in your face.

I am plain.
SHE is vibrant.

Vanilla.
Habenero.

When the sun slips away and the world is asleep that is
when SHE is alive, a creature of the night. SHE calls to
me begging and pleading, "Let me out. I want to play."
SHE teases me and taunts me But I hold her down, shackled,
imprisoned. Locked her up and threw away the key. I must
find that key, I have to let her free.

I am so tired of holding her in, tired of looking for
a part of me I have been vainly searching for in a
broken idea of love. Only SHE can find the pieces
of my past that I left for dead.

Drowning my regret in a vast ocean of medicated
anxiety. Floating through this life with an eerie fog
clouding our withered hearts.

Empty nights spent lying awake. My heart strings
strum a soulful song as my father's faded touch creeps into
my mind. His words cling tightly like a noose around my neck,
suffocating me. The sick, twisted words, "I own you." slither and
hiss into my core. Nights spent with wrists aching for a razor
to open them up and release the heartache I have buried,
spilling regret and unsung apologies out into the world
like wandering spirits.

Only SHE can heal those wounds, replace the pieces of
me that I can't seem to bring myself to face.

I tossed and turned my options in the palm of my hand,
already knowing the answer I wanted before fate had
chosen for me.

I over analyzed every word and every gesture like a
crazed 13 year old girl. I couldn't help but get worked
up over you.

It's been awhile since I was ready to open my heart
again. I am still so afraid of heartbreak because the
pieces are still lying on the floor from six months ago.

I've never had to endure rejection before and maybe
it's about **** time I wake up and realize that it will
happen to me eventually, I am not impervious to love's
bittersweet rejection although I'd like to believe I am.

All the times we've had have been reeling in my mind,
my dreams, my every thought, like a motion picture
film. moments we shared that I've never thought twice
about until now.

Times like the night I sat in your bed and told you all
my greatest fears and secrets. You said, "I just don't want
him to hurt you." You gave me a crying shoulder and let
me fall asleep feeling safe.

Times like when we used to joke about getting married
and we would laugh because we were best friends but
deep down I hoped that someday you might be serious.

Sophomore year you found her and I already had him
but inside I was jealous. I buried my jealousy and let it
go.

Times like the past three weeks... I had laid my head on your
pillow just like all the nights before but this time you said, "Is
it weird if I want to kiss you?" We kissed... A lot.

Times like the past three weeks... you kissed me in front of all
our friends, or when we were in your car singing some boy band
song and you kissed me at the stop sign, we kissed all night.

Times like two days ago... I gave it all up, I gave myself to you.
You said I was beautiful, you were drunk and you also said you loved
my ****.

Times like last night... you treated me like I was your worst enemy.
You flaunted her around me, you held her perfect body just
like you had held mine the night before. She left, I was hurt, you
were drunk again. I tried to help you and you told me to get
the **** out. That was the coldest goodbye as you slammed
the door in my face.

Times like these past three weeks... I've been sitting here,
troubled by your actions. Dreaming about you, terrified
of losing you. I haven't heard a word from you since I came
home to a different reality two hours away but it feels like
decades.

Tonight, I tossed and turned the options in the palm of my
hand. Should I go for it? Or should I just let it go? Sunday,
I'll be trembling, heart pounding when I see your face. I
chose what I had hoped fate would tell me to do. Sunday
I may face rejection but at least I tried.

It was the way the branches were shaped. I have lived in this house for exactly a year and seven months. I have sat in this exact chair and observed my surroundings. I have studied the positions of the trees, the way their leaves are shaped. I have sat here and talked about life with the greatest man I've ever known. Watched the snow fall, filled with anxiety, I thought I was trapped forever. Seasons passed and I grew with the changes. Tonight I sat here, blood soaked in *****, norco dissolving in nasal passages, Mary Jane dancing in the wind... I felt the frightful chill of October. It was like death and despair had arrived and taken hold of my soul. They reached out their ghostly arms and embraced me, filled me with dark cavernous thoughts. I was numb and the weight of a thousand worlds fell upon my shoulders once again. I saw his face, I longed for the chance of laying upon his bed and breathing him in. Breathing in the nights when he said he had my back forever, inhaling the bittersweet sting of a love rejected. I missed his laugh, his temper. I saw his name written in the trees and I knew his voice. The wind whispered through the leaves and played a song like Mary Elizabeth Frye once described. I heard his song, crying out for me to live, to make this existence matter. Cheeks turned, I blamed the higher being, "why such a beautiful soul? Why?" I am so cold and I can't feel my limbs, frozen in yesterday, frozen in the October wind. I sit here and I read it in the trees, it tells me to live but I think I've forgotten how.