Don't give away the key to your heart
because you know he'll take it,
and break it.
He'll use it,
and abuse it,
he'll love and caress it,
and then he'll compress it.
He'll trick it,
and kick it,
and beat it,
and eat it.
He'll **** you
just for it.
So don't let him touch it
and please let me keep it.

I wanted to see your body’s
Curling limbs,
And a tangled body.

I wanted to feel your soft skin,
The warmth.
How you tingled when we made contact.

I wanted to feel your heart beating
Under my hand,
I know your life was stronger.

I wanted to twirl your hair,
Which frizzed in the morning,
The hair that was covering my face that night.

I used to want you,
Yearning so badly,
Feeling it pulsing threw me and making my mind throb.

And you moved first.

I saw you watching me,
I felt you rubbing up my arm.
I watched as you moved up to my chest,
I sensed you kissing my ear.

I've giving in
On what you wanted,
Before I could give in for myself.

Love, Elopement, Conception, Repetition
All play foully into life
Love: A child will grow up trained to find a partner, like a penguin has a life mate. But they say we descend from the apes who rule by size; who mate by harem. There is not any love.
Elopement: Since the beginning of recognition there has been marriage but it is nothing more that sexist imprisonment; slavery of the female race. Bound by a contract and traded between men; simply a form of bribery.
Conception: Child birth; monster breeding. The abuse of a woman’s womb, body, soul and mind.
Repetition: The fact we don’t learn and do it over and over again

I saw
A girl asleep in a
Smart car

Sprawled out
And bundled up with a
Thin blanket

I wonder
If she ran away today
Stopping here

Or maybe
She drove all night and
Needed sleep

I feel
Bad for this girl who
Is sleeping

In the
Tiny front seat of a
Neon car

Winner!
Winner!
Chicken dinner

Glutton will make you a sinner.

I have to say I absolutely love art
The art which feeds from my inspirations
My inspirations which feed from the art based from my core obsession

Although I’m not sure if this is my real obsession

What if it’s an obsession within another?
Or an addiction concealed behind obsession?
How much more burdensome can these be
Will it grow past this point
The point where it’s all I love yet all I fear?

How am I supposed to say that I love my body?
How am I supposed to raise a normal self-esteem
And gain respect for myself When
I hate what I see?

And can you even say it’s wrong for me to hate it?
How is it wrong to hate what stares at me from the mirror?
How is it wrong to hate the smooth and pale skin?
The hairless exposure
The hint of bones in my figure

They say that is supposed to be beautiful don’t they?



I have to say I absolutely love what’s in my future
The future which feeds from my inspirations
My inspirations which feed from the future idea of my own self

Although I cannot be sure this will be the real me

What if this future is just a dream?
Or a wish concealed behind a dream?
How much more dangerous can these be?
Will it grow past this point?
This point where this future feeds off of me?

How am I supposed to say I don’t want this?
How am I supposed to hold my esteem at a healthy level
And also be so absorbed when
I know better than to do this

And how can I even think its wrong for me to hate it
How is it wrong to hate the ghost in my mirror?
How is it wrong to hate the sculpted and carved skin
The meatless disclosure
The manifested fissure

They say that is supposed to be beautiful don’t they?

Warning:
Do not fall in love with me
because undoubtedly
I won't return the favor.
I've found my hope
my love, as well as my soul,
and it's just not around to answer the door for you.
No, don't be mistaken: I care for you too,
but I just cant shake the feeling that he'll turn back around.

Warning:**
Do not speak of him with me
because undoubtedly
My mind will begin to tremor.
I can't seem to cope
that he's gone in the cold
and im left all alone waiting for a cue.
Yes I care for you too,
but can't let go that he'll hear my weeping sound.

Look at me now
I can hold my hands high for you to see that I have surrendered
And I will not fight back anymore, and I will not scream anymore
I just stay here limp and i will not think

I will not think of you and how you loved me
And of how you promised me and of how you held me

look at me now
I can walk in a straight line on the sand of a warm beach
And I will not forget us here, and I will not die here
I will walk on dazed and I will not love

I will not remember others and how they loved me
And of how they promised me and of how they held me

I said look at me now
I can wave these useless limbs high for you to see that I still exist
And I will not be used by you anymore and i will not submit anymore
I will claim myself and walk away

I will not remember the sins and how they pervade me
And of how they ripped at me and ***** me

Look at me now
I remember only the good times and what i live for
And what I love for and what I yearn for

This week in my Geometry we learned
                                 that a part + part = whole
But I already knew that (Me + You = Perfection)
We're a mathamatical fantasy,
Why can't you solve it?
                                 My calculations couldnt be wrong.
Mx + b = Why
                                 You(x) + Me = Why not
Whats the missing number?
                                 My formula is incomplete.

Can you give me the coordinants?
                                 0(degrees)o'0"
Mine are Empty(degrees) Without' you"
Come find me.

You make me happy.
Yes, you; all of you.
It doesnt matter who you are
Or what you wear
Just as long as you smile;
As long as we can be friends.
Everyone is a puzzle piece,
Each with different ridges.
You will have an edge someone will fill
And you will fill other's.
So let us come together and be happy,
And make me happy,
And we can make a wonderful mismatched collage.

Sleeping with a tear stained pillow,
headphones broke
so turn on my radio,
lock the doors
to my room
forget chores.
Give me a break,
some money.
LET'S GO!
Large home under the willow,
single stroke
a measure by kilo,
small sport soars
footsteps boom.
**** ******
don't see the steak
add a little honey,
and so?

So he's the druggie,
You're the depressed one,
And I'm the one with issues.

He pierced himself,
You dyed your hair,
And I ripped off my doors.

He laughs as he's yelled at,
You stand strong to criticism,
And I encourage belittling me.

So explain to me,
With all these things so close,
Why we all dislike each other?

Innocence
Isn't something
A girl like me can ever have again.

Boys*
Are something
You *don't tell your mom about.

Winner!
Winner!
Chicken dinner

The toilet says, "I'll make you thinner"

Corpse Bride
loved life
lived with
no strife
coulda' been
shoulda' been
dead
all along

I'm not ready to let go of you yet
I don't know what is holding me
or what I am holding on to
but i have the strangest feeling that if I let you go I'll be my Self again
and my Self is my enemy it seems

I began typing just now but the words stopped coming.
My writing disappeared, yet when I got my mind back it was over.
Submissions displayed like a screen as white and clean as my mind,
While words spilled freely to my companions, secretly my fingers bleed a distant freedom from you.
You are the innocent abuser which I have pressed to love forever yet continuously mutilated my sanctum until unrecognisable.
Not one will distinguish my former self over who I've become, without the gentle mindless soul which glowed from before.
My words and heart have been strangled while the words I write and write blossom poisons into my blood.
My writing and feeling are the disease you so cruelly infected me with, forcing thoughts of nothing less than pain towards me by you.
I had never thought of pain before you, when we had been so young and timeless.
You have cut me deeper than any sharp edge could.
I've now bled the weeping stories from my bones and felt the small stinging pains from what I wished were just paper cuts.
Yet every time I dance this dance, the paint I leave creates a story about you.
A story about my lover.
A story of betrayal and emptiness and the loss of time and space.
The clock seems to keep moving forever but I cannot be dragged from our empty well.
It must be refilled wether it be wine or the toxic rain, I'll stay in our pit of dark mistakes until I feel the wet drop on my back.
The kind that shows forgiveness.
I'll never leave this place,
Because I know you'll never come back.
I know you think I'm putrid and horrifying now, as well as placing for my death in whispers I'm not supposed to hear.
But there is no reason to sever a strand of hope.
Especially when it is the only thing tying you to the ground.

Set the force of beauty free
Let it loose and leave it be
In cities it must learn to hide
In pastures it is free to ride
Set it free
This beauty
It cannot exist in our city

Poor Mr.WitherStone
All old
         Hobbling every step
Gray, matted down hair
                      Liver spotted skin
        But he must have had
A happy life
         Because
WitherStone has wrinkled skin
          Round lines that mark his smile
    And large crows feet at
                              at the corner of his eyes
The skin on his hands seems
                   To fold and slide
       it is stretched out
                    Because
He could always someone elses
                                   Hand
     And his legs seem to be over lapping
Skin that just hangs
                            But because
     People gave him their seats
                                   So he wouldn't have to stand
                   But his neck and chin
       Seem to have a hanging flap
And it was because
         Poor Mr.WitherStone
                                Always looked
               High
    On every Bright
                            Sunny Day

She is beautiful as she tumbles into my house
her glossy toned lips purse on my cheek
and leave the pink shimmer behind
she slips off her broken converse and shows her soft bare feet
her small toes are a soft pink shade
she slips her small lotioned hand into mine and softly tugs me forward
her pale blonde hair rests lightly on her exposed pale shoulders
it falls off into a straight line down her neck and back
her flawless skin shines in the light from the window
her skin is warm to the touch
she whispers almost, her voice so quiet and smooth in the air
come here she urges me and i follow her
her voice barely reaches me yet echoes through all my mind
she whispers strongly now and with so much purpose
her hand takes mine to press against her cheek I love you
her coo makes me melt into her
she slips my hand down her neck to her chest
her heart flutters under my palm yours she explains
she smiles at my intake of breath and I see her eyes threw brown lashes
the blue brings a sudden calmness to my mind and chest
she moves my hand again though I miss her hearts warmth
we travel downward and she tucks the tips of my fingers in the band of her shorts
yours she explains again and our faces are both in pink heat
her back arches inwards as I touch the small of it and we embrace
her plush lips meet mine in heat and her warmth bounds through me

Sometimes I dream
of the world in black and white
with a gray sun
on a blank white sheet beaming down at us.

Slash away my pain today
I’m sick of this
This empty abyss
Save me! Save me!
Yelling expectantly
*Can’t you set me free?

I hate ******* in air,
When it swirls in my lungs,
And makes my chest thump.

I hate thinking my thoughts,
Hearing them drone,
One after another little bothersome notes.

I hate moving my body,
Wasting my power,
Doing things others could do for me.

I hate being asked questions,
Bad under the pressure,
I'll say what they want to hear.

But mostly,
I hated talking to you,

Every question you asked,

Every answer I gave,

Every demand you blurted before you could think.

With everything you said,
I curled up my legs,
I knew that I hated you most.

Poor Mr.WitherStone
All old
         Hobbling every step
Gray, matted down hair
                      Liver spotted skin
        But he must have had
A happy life
         Because
WitherStone has wrinkled skin
          Round lines that mark his smile
    And large crows feet at
                              at the corner of his eyes
The skin on his hands seems
                   To fold and slide
       it is stretched out
                    Because
He could always someone elses
                                   Hand
     And his legs seem to be over lapping
Skin that just hangs
                            But because
     People gave him their seats
                                   So he wouldn't have to stand
                   But his neck and chin
       Seem to have a hanging flap
And it was because
         Poor Mr.WitherStone
                                Always looked
               High
    On every Bright
                            Sunny Day

Wind blows and the sunshine leans tall
The darkness overwhelms us all
Creeping and crawling and stalking through the night
I'll haunt you forever and then hold you tight
Remedy and rhyme
And harmony and peace
We run out of time
Before the moonlights release
Stars steal his light
Sun burns to black
Porcelain skin shines so bright
Red heart's what we lack