keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

of you second-guessing me
he said. He sounded perturbed
on ever word.

I’m sick
of your rage
he told me before. But if he
lived the violent life I had
he’d have some rage for sure.

I’m sick
of being lovesick
over you. Sick of you making
promises that you never kept. Always
saying that you’d be there –
then left
fighting to get back
a semblance that was

I’m sick
because I relied on you
and then
you broke my heart


I’m sick
of being sick
and never
getting fixed!!

And I'm too sick to start!

"I'm an open book"
She says

Written in
code.

This disease struck me
Like a brick on pavement
Hard

Everything was
Perfect
Then that brick came along
And with the slightest movement
Destroyed everything

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
The voices say

Why can’t I let them go?
They keep repeating:

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Why won’t they stop

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
I don’t understand

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Someone just HELP me understand

This disease is about
Perfection
But it's the biggest
Imperfection about me

I wrote fantasies and I wrote about sleep
I wrote about demons and
how they danced around a fire in my dreams
I wrote about skeletons in my closet that suffocated me
I wrote about monsters that I rolled around with
In my sheets and when “I love you”
Used to sound sweet
I wrote until my brain stopped flooding and my fingertips began to bleed

Poetry
       i wrote until it
              Finally
          Became easier to
Breathe
m.d