I am my own destruction

I look and see
There's nothing left be saved

I'm not contaminated with Disease
I am the Disease

I'm falling atrapped to my own sanity

This is what I've become

**** it with fire!

Let me give myself the things I deserve

Make it stop

It's not hard to breathe...
I'm fine

Have the ***** to face me
if like a coward you erase me
from your memory
do not run scared like a fleabitten *****
(i never could believe you were like this)
if like a civil war surgeon you rip out every stitch
of me
from your memory
look me in the eye
tell me that what you do is not a lie
show me you have the strenth to do it
because i don't have it, can't find strength like that
look me in the eye and prove it

(she couldn't do it.)

I understand insecurities, the scars i have are real,
i understand issues with trust, i know just how you feel.
I get trust where i can, and seek it where i lack,
i understand to seek it there, even though behind my back.
so do not think that all i do is paint pictures of trust,
remember that i hold you dear, i pray, believe, you must.

When you ask me how I am doing, I might say I'm doing okay, or fine,
I might reply with an eh, or a meh,
But there's a lot of thought and question when you ask me
Because a lot of the time I don't know what okay means anymore
I might shrug and avoid your question because i don't want to lie
I might hide behind an "i'm making it" or an "i'm doing"
Those usually get me off the hook pretty easily.
What i will not do it tell you that I am fantastic when I am struggling each moment.
I will not lie to you.
So when you ask me how I'm doing, what I say will probably depend on how open i feel that day . It will probably depend on how much i can handle thinking about everything that's going on. How much i can share without breaking down in public. There is a lot that goes into keeping even a sort of smile on this face.
Don't ask unless you care, truly care, and don't judge me until you've been in my place.

I always care when I am bitter. I always long to see you when it hurts to.
I always fight to the moment i have no more breaths, even when i forget what light is for the clouds above me. Sometimes I stumble when I step, But i always step. I might forget who I am , but it's because I am not who i was. I nearly never say I'm reaching out when i throw out my hand in hopes you'll catch it, but my palms have learned how to fly. I forget yesterday sometimes as soon as the sun sets, But tomorrow is worth it, just like the sun will rise. Love is worth the fight. Love is the only thing that never dies. I only ever wanted violence to keep the peace. I only ever stayed up late to escape sleep/ I only ever tasted fate when i washed your feet. I held a few hearts in my hands before, and i dropped them ,shards of red stained porcelain on the floor. I never was real graceful until you poured me full of grace. I may wear a mask sometimes, but I always long to show you my face, Sometimes i drink something bitter, because to some it's a sweeter taste. I may sit still, because in being slow to anger i win the race. But I'll never give up searching, wandering, and wondering, even if I slow my pace.

I'm wrecked
Pardon the pun, ***,
but oh, you love it,
and humor is the best i can do to shrug it,
that fact, hanging over my head,
the dread, the lingering thought i'm dead
the smells, the way they grab me by the throat,
the visions, the way they make me choke,.
swimming in my every moment,
ever since my crashing fall,
wondering if i ever lived,
if i ever lived at all.

and **** i have to face it,
but when i do my heart races,
i swear my ribs are folding into places,
that they never should have been,
and my chest is heaving quicker,
or is it caving in?

traces of the trees escape
the ever wandering eyes
of drunk teenagers camping
and all the other passers by

remembrance of my end or birth
i'm not quite sure anymore
but i know i've been there before
surrounded by the dying leaves,
embedded in the earth
sleeping in a scar,
awakened by my thirst.

I shy away from sentences.
In the spaces where words should be,but aren't I can maintain my anonymity,and shore up my unrepentance.
  When I speak in more than snippets, it becomes plain.
I am as broken as my preferred pattern of speaking, of writing.
If you look close enough, you can see it.
It isn't as clever as I wish it was.
And sure, its effective enough at soliciting a fleeting feeling.
But what good does it do?
I like to pretend that I want to be known.
Really, I am hiding just out of sight.
Around the next corner on that daily walk where we sometimes collide.
  In circles of other people you know.
You've seen my face, you know my name,
youd even say you know me.
But if you were asked who I am, you'd hesitate,
with a catch in your throat, and a half reassuring-half derogatory smile.
" well, you're.. You" you'd say.  
And no matter how many times you're asked, you'd repeat it.
For days,months, years.
I've watched it happen already.
I'm not sure if I haven't taken the trouble to really introduce myself,
Or if you haven't taken the trouble to realize that I am not just
Some whimsical syllable
Plastered on my shoulders
From birth to now.
And now, we don't have time to be sure.

I beat back the worry And the wish for me.
I provide you with a taste of my presence and my words.
I sate your hunger for my attention.
And then I recede into myself.
Ever I am in flux.
Are you hungry,am I tired?
Which need is greater?
How can I give to you what I do not have?
I hide my emptiness by hiding it at the bottom of my perceived depth.
If I seem deep, of is only because I'm digging the hole.
And I cordon off an acre around it,
Because God forbid somebody fall faster than I can dig.
Once you get to the bottom of me,
I'm just like everyone else.
Empty.
Hungry.
Lonely.
Trying to fill myself up,but unable to find what fills me.
Trying to sate my appetites,but they always grow.
Trying to feel known,but torn between hiding and showing myself.
Happiness evades me.
I am colored pervasively by my lack.

dear suicidal tendencies,
it’s three in the morning, you’ve woken me up
i sit on my bed with nothing but this pen and coffee cup
you’re at the front of mind, putting pressure on my forehead
i want to sleep it off, but you want me dead

dear suicidal tendencies,
it’s four in the morning and i have tried to fall into a slumber
but every time i close my eyes you appear and just make it harder

dear suicidal tendencies,
it’s five in the morning, i am feeling quite harmful to my wellbeing
you’ve pushed yourself through the surface of my skin and I can’t help what i’m seeing
you’re so dark, so scary; your fingers are course as you run them along the surface of my wrist
and you tell me words, saying my death will be forgotten and unappreciated just like mist

dear suicidal tendencies,
it’s six in the morning and I’m debating a future i cannot see
i’m letting you win, you’re words have made me believe i’ll be free