It was a sunny day outside, the warmest we had in months. I wanted to be outside but the curse of my gender and societal acceptance was what was keeping me placed in that chair, waiting. I heard them calling to my right. I took a deep breath and followed the lady to the back. I passed the display case holding all of the glistening nail polishes, each with their own personality.  I turned and took one last look outside before I entered the darkened room. The sun was still beaming, oh how I wish I was outside! I lay down on the table and clutched the sleeves of my jacket. Time to begin. She smeared the hot wax just below my eyebrow, the most sensitive part I thought. She slowly placed a strip of cloth on the wax and ripped---hard. I winced in pain. I felt a single tear welling up in the corner of my eye. That single tear never failed to appear when I endured this kind of torture. I wiped away this tear with the sleeve of my jacket. I could feel another tear steadily taking its place. I opened my eyes slightly to see the lady who I didn’t know but trusted, because I had to. Her face was soft and round and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. I silently thanked this woman for her work, even though she was the presently the cause of my pain. A few more rips of skin and the torment had finally ceased. I sat up and she handed me a mirror.
“Here, take a look.”

Happy International Woman's Day to all you kickass ladies out there!
Insanely Delirious
Insanely Delirious
May 12, 2014

Such an inconsiderate little bitch
Go ahead, dress as provocative as wish
You only give a shit about your whore ass
Manifesting absolutely no class
You're nothing but  useless-slut
Who gives nearly no fucks
About any other individual
Or how they even feel
Maybe try thinking about everyone else
Instead of your bitch ass self

you drag that blade across your pale skin
Letting the crissmon red flow off my body
knowing its a sin
but it turned to a hobby
a hobby that you shouldn't have.
We both have this hobby
and i know, that you don't want to  
and you don't want to drag that blade
on your wrist, but you do
listening to your music
while you cry yourself asleep at night

Burns on your skin,
made by that lighter in your hand
they call them similes
but they make you cry

All the pain you think you deserve,
wont get you through the day

Steven Martin
Steven Martin
Feb 4, 2014

I numbed myself today
Nothing else to say

Fires died down for a bit
Easy just to sit

But I know how these things work

I’m waiting for the metamorphosis

As retardant turns to fuel
And the fire returns hungry and refreshed

Jul 25      Jul 26

I torture myself
watching you leave
until out of view,
Knowing that
walking away
is just as painful
for you.

Every little drop has come from pain
Dripping regrets down on the walls
Wrote apologies on the bathroom sink
And hid the mess in lines of words.

Every little line is a memory
Perfect permanence within a scar
Each parallel, each a missing piece
of reasons from which they came.

These words are nothing short of empathy
There's always truth in the eyes of the hurt
The message has been dried and wiped away
Yet there's a crude carving on the temple forever.

© 2014

You've found yourself in the mirror
In the eyes that won't betrayed
If I let you bleed, will you suffer the same?

In the smile that was hopeless
In the sorrow that no one sees
If I let you breathe, you will suffer the same.

The constant state of being
What you are and are not supposed to be
These are memories in the truths of the lies

Too beguiled, alone, and afraid
To see that you actually are me
And we’ve done everything to end us tonight

With the hand you've called for me
And without voice, you summon the rest
"If we will let you bleed, we'll suffer the same."

But you've marked yourself indifferent
Yet we're the ones to shoulder blame
"But we let you bleed so you won't suffer the same."

The nine souls misled from deception
Will be your fears and mistakes
We live in the chambers of your shattered mind

And in the nights that you will see us
You will no longer be afraid
Because we are the same in body, soul, and mind

© 2014

Depress the edge, this silver charm
Confused in what is senseless harm
Hide away and fleece the warmth
Gravity holds on to the redden form

The stains collected on the floor
Cover up the ones there before
These lines heal so ever slow
But are the quickest to show

Feel the path control its only route
The pain oxidizes half the doubt
Focused on how it came about
A mere disillusion
An uncommon solution

Lost in cold reflection
Trapped in the endless fall
But too deceived by perception
This descent never noticed at all

Here’s the truth that always hiding in the lining
Clearly subsiding as the droplets dry up again
The gentle lines in all the lying is only trying
To stop denying this habit will give in

Lost in brief recollection
Entombed in the endless fall
But too deceived by perception
This descent never noticed at all

© 2014

Something Vague
Something Vague
Dec 2, 2014

like a pencil to paper,
i held you very briefly
in my hand--
just enough to make (you)
my point

you were firm
in my grasp
i knew i should have
let go sooner
but i had
to get my point across

i dragged you around
in my right,
caressing you softly
across the white
of my papery flesh--
trying to form
the right kind of feeling,
trying to prove
what i had

i dug you deeper
into my skin
but no mark was made
i saw you as
you were dulling,
no longer the sharp
tool that could
write my wrongs

i kept trying
to draw love
with you
but nothing came out
but faint lines
on my pale canvas
where you had once been

i traced my
outline so hard
with your tip
of (go where
until you

i wouldn't have that
so i spun you
around and around
just to make
my point

i drew circles
with you--
trying to get you
past my skin

until there was
the point,
the eraser

Sep 1, 2013

It takes another's pain to recognize one's own,
Pain as true as the blood that in all veins flows.
I over-judge most unfairly my own vanity,
I believe 'Nothing is really wrong with me.'
For in my mind, my gifts are greater than thine.
My woes, meanwhile, mean not more than a whine.
And yet most irony finds itself hidden,
In the million cuts with which our flesh is ridden.
As your mouth opens to purge,
I devour to satisfy a monstrous urge.
Both caught in the same, unending cycle.

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