Dreading to open sad eyes
to step tired feet out of bed
forced to be who she isn't
and to live in a world of crISIS
a line of love miles away
cut off by cradled arms of family members
like a grand opening to this new life
covered in crimson cracks
help the bleeding
let her fall asleep with dreams of blood stained metal
or wake up next to the curly haired boy
that still carries her heart in his back pocket
everyday another piece of her is put in a jar
like saving up for a concert
except my jar is filled with pieces of my skin for every time I didn't get to tell you "I miss you"
The same question repeated and lingering in the air
All I know how to pronounce is
Because if anything else comes out my mouth
tears would decide to fall onto my cheeks
They know what's wrong.
but all they do is put an old Band-Aid on
without even cleaning the wound.
a time of giving and of love
give me the chance to love him for a couple of minuets
it's been five months and two arguments since my eyes had the gleam in them.
All I want to know is 'why'
a three letter word with an eternity of meanings
but in this case I do not believe there is a reason for such pain
it will hurt nothing but during the time I would have to say goodbye.
I'm merely dreaming the chance of seeing you, even on Christmas
None of these gifts would compare to just seeing you for a couple of seconds.
My eyes lower themselves day after day
because they cannot take the heaviness of your absence any longer
they are fixated on your photograph
while the image of you dances on my frontal lobe
my lips are stitched together with pieces of your skin
I cannot speak of you
or my ears will infect with curdled milk from the mouths of neglected goats
at least you're in my pillow case
we meet almost every midnight
when you slip back inside the right side of my brain
and sleep abruptly without a sound.
The demons inside my mind
they whisper to me sunrise to bedtime
and when i finally fall asleep
their soft "mur murs" morph into dreams
Most of the time they like to bring up the past
playing clips of happiness we once had
no commercial break
just you and me and an exemption from reality
But during daylight hours
they sing sweet melodies of negativity
smooth persuading voices belting accapella
calling out all my imperfections
They're so selfish
my little demons,
******* out all my knowledge, confidence, and self control
to make room as their home
Decision after decision
is death after death
is another look of disappointment
from the adults who knew me as an intelligent kid
We're working backwards in timeless cities
where "getting over it" are my good mornings
and tearful hands around my throat are my good nights
Suitcases filled with souvenirs just to visit my own home
but nothing feels like home anymore
maybe your arms are the welcome mat
and maybe its the highway
no one knows
but everyone knows my mistakes
and there's no going back now
this is who I am.
without a blink-
182 playing 'I miss you'
I miss you too
one day I'll see you
go grab my left shoe
out the door I go
suicide doors show
"Welcome back," says the silver stained rectangles
when that's the only hand you can hold because every other coping mechanism is just as harmful.
"Welcome home," says the sideways thoughts
when you're sliding through the crevices of your brain but get stuck in a black hole socket.
"Are you warm yet?" asks the deep red valleys
when you're bearing over your sink and covering your arm in dark wash rags.
"Do you remember this?" asks the familiar burn of the white soap in the red shower,
asks the watered eyes and soaking pillowcase,
asks the summer of sophomore year,
asks the midnight letters never sent,
asks the boy who never forgave me for helping him like my parents are doing to me,
asks my father,
who's reflection burns with wild red hair and bad decisions,
is his daughter
who asks is there even hope?
and one too many lines
searching for the definition of "purpose"
in porcelain skin and ruby designs.
Metallic marathon skiers
race down the snow, white *****
blue veins may be the finish line
wake up little Susie... let's find a new way to cope.
Repetitive complaining spoilage
Asking for help but pushing away anyone who tries
The way people help isn't the way I want it
I want you
I don’t get to see you when I want to
Because sometimes I need to hold your hand
And I'm punished for needing help
I don’t know if my problem is this depression doc prescribed me with
Or the idea that running away from problems is the path most travelled by
They said that when you held my hand, you brought me down the wrong path
And they said your hands were filthy
But you promised me that you would wash them
Clean them of the sleepless nights
And the assumptions of your life
Prove them wrong
But don’t change who you are
Don’t rinse your hands in bleach like they want you to
Rinse them in the forgiveness those people need while reciting your ABC's
And don’t forget to wash in between our mistakes
How do they expect me to hold foreign hands?
Without a razor in my own
How do they expect me to find sanity?
When they’ve taken everything
Transporting me into the hands of others
Am I too much to handle?
But they didn't even stamp "handle with care" on my crate
Carrying surprises of disappointment
It’s been shipwrecked stormy seas
Seeing familiar faces
Explaining myself over and over again
Monotone and white lies
Of all these 16 years they didn’t even know me
Now pursuing every secret
And every locked door
I don’t hold the key to my own body anymore
It’s in the freckled hands of lullabies
I'm their puppet
It's been over 365 days
It's been many nightmares and repetitive poetry
But your name still lingers on my breathe
And the short-lived memories on the tip of my tongue
I should probably brush my teeth
You shouldn't still be here
You left a longtime ago
But you must have forgot to tell me
Because I was still sending you letters
And you would send some back
But you tricked me you tricked me you tricked me
The idea of your voice caused me to rediscover old mannerisms
You reminded me that I actually like wearing bones and the color red
It's like finding an old song that you used to love
And the thought of bones is becoming an obsession again
Even my worst habits remind me of you
Everywhere is you
Everything is you
You're causing this "poem" to turn into and old unsaid rant
The thought of you has a nucleus and membrane of its own
It travels through my body and attacks my white blood cells
I shouldn’t still be writing about you
You're so last year
But baby I'm a hipster and I love to wear vintage
Is living breathing?
Is it uncomfortable?
Or is it beautiful?
Is surviving breathing?
Is it painful?
Or is it delightful?
Definitions are actions
Surviving is inhaling and exhaling
It is laborious
It is restlessly avoiding death
Living is breathing
It is loving
It is balanced
It is enjoying yourself and the world.
I wonder if we'll ever get the chance to live
keeping me sane
and losing trust
another hit I must
I'm not addicted
however, I'm convicted
visited by another drug test
tears, lies, denies, but look your best
there goes your parent's trust, if they had any
there's more Mary Jane in this city
and many No's have I said
but all it takes is one Yes
to not pass the trust test
We're not miles apart today
maybe at least two
and it angers me that there will be no way of seeing you
We're popping fireworks
hoping you can see them from where you are
and the sound of the gun powdered lights
is the sound my heart makes when it thinks about you.
Lighting sparklers on fire
and spelling your name in bright stars
and watching it end in smoke
just how you end your days.
My mom just told me Red dye number 40 makes kids go crazy
and I'm starting to wonder if that's what my blood is made out of.
My patience is gone
and I've cut my hair.
I've lost count of how many times I've cried today
my parents know it's because of your curly hair and brown eyes
and all i want for Christmas is to see you
but I'm just flirtin' with disaster aren't I?
just ramblin' on... sorry
Fear shuddered heart
beating 266 times a minute
finding comfort on the bathroom floor
in puddles of rose tinted water
Rushing the "best" times of my life
just to find peace
to escape the names resulting from disappointment and anger
don't do this just because of a level of seniority
in the literally meaning
walk in these broken in converse
and pass a day in this plaid catholic school skirt
or walk barefoot on gray gravel rocks
under guest room bed sheets
spend your time in silver lining rooms
under sterilized lights
sleep in little green pill bottles
then be blamed for swallowing them wrong
Feeling guilty when kissing foreign lips
but saying your name through my head at the same time I was being taken advantage of.
We're both guilty of taking advantage of the other, however.
Me for my body
and you merely because your name his is face
but nothing's really the same
and now I'm completely sure that I love you.
How can I move on when I never got to finish?
When I was pulled away from my co-dependent life source
with forceps around my neck?
Detached like stitches that weren't ready to come out
It hurt like hell.
Like hell was exactly the way Catholic school described it
because time doesn't heal ****.
The closure I never got like mom didn't close the door behind her
I had to get up and close it myself
except I kept falling down the stairs
I want to get up and close the door so bad, it's just that
I don't want it to happen again
I don't want to silently die on the bathroom floor again
I don't want to live off of my own blood again
I don't want to be so sure that I'm insane
like bed bug infested hotel pillows
It's like I don't want to forget you
I guess that's it... I never want to forget you
God you were so good
Kiss Mary Jane good morning
then kiss Xanax goodnight
drop out of school
and party all night
You're too busy being "xantastic"
too even tell me to stop texting you
with low, bloodshot eyes and euphoria
I'm wondering if you've met Chris Dolmeth yet
So while your out trying new friends
making you forget about your problems
I hope one day you'll wake up from this crack house
and finally see the mess you've made.
****** ex pointing fingers
anxiety chewed finger nails
trust issues beginning with herself
and ending with him
when will she wake up from this dream?
difficulty breathing toxic air
more like polluted water filled lungs
she rather spend time with her thoughts than with the truth
where is the drain to scream her emptiness into?
to cry these acidic tears?
and bleed this familiar exposed blood?
To the love and trust you once owned
To all the privileges merited
Because they're gone faster than you've earned the temporary happiness
But now it's all gone
You contemplate stopping your anti-depressants just to feel something again
Because the messed you've made has only numbed you
Hurting yourself is more rewarding than others hurting you
Because you can stop if you want to
You have the control
But say goodbye
Everything is gone and so am I
I am sick of this
a sickness with a side of anger
It makes my intestines inflamed
and my lungs collapse
Sick to my stomach
more like my stomach is filled with ants
biting my stomach lining
causing me to say things that i shouldn't
The anger defies gravity
in that it rushes from the tip of my toes to the core of my brain
it just wants to find a way out
it's tired of being bottled up like aging wine
But every time I try and release my anger,
hitting innocent objects
and faulty people,
trouble finds my way
I don't know what to do anymore
well, I never have
but I'm sick
sick of having
a sickness with a side of anger
rambling has become a problem
Empty silent screaming
surrounded by abdomen aching laughter
you're missing something
a big piece of something
Because your empty heart is heavy
from the word "missing" smashing down on it
and from a weight of all the words not yet written
like the weight is trying to make its way out of your chest
but it doesn't because it feels more comfortable
crawling in and out of your rib cage
but nobody can hear you
because their ears aren't open for you
they think you're merely tired- and they're partially right
but its not because of sleep deprivation
Pad lock clenched teeth
Bc you can't tell anyone
It kills you to keep this spirit locked up
This spirit of tears located in your chest
When you swore you were totally over him
And then he speaks to u.
The spirit fades into your collar bones
You gain salted cheeks
And hyperventilating breaths
Heck. He did it again
I come home smelling like cigarettes
And my grandmother sprays the house with Lysol.
She asks me why I smoke
But I can't tell her it's because the smell reminds me of you.
Thought I was over you
Our hearts were tied together by a red string
And whenever we were too far apart
a pressure was put on our hearts
Instead of saying ouch you said you missed me
But one day distance cut that red string
And it turned black.
your connected to someone new now,
By the fingertips
My string is still attached to me like an umbilical cord
Except now there is a ten pound weight tied to the end of it.
I tried to cut it off
But mom hid all the razors
Shortness of breathe
and weakness of knees
unable to blink
and unable to think.
My heart is bleeding out
and the blood is freezing around my rib cage
and I thought you were cold blooded.
and sunken ambitions.
Change comes in a blink of an eye
but all I can see is our past
since there will be no future.
How am I too young to know what love is
when my heart feels like it's been ripped out of my chest
and been misplaced
the moment it has been taken away from its home?
Stop telling me
everything I do wrong
because I assure you... I am highly aware
just by the look of your disappointed eyes and steady moving mouth
Stop telling me
my thoughts are "ridiculous" and "stupid"
quit making excuses of how "ungrateful" I am
respect does not come on a scale of seniority
Stop telling me
Because if you did,
wouldn't I be "happy"
kind of like you've been reciting how want me to be
Hello? Can you here me?
you hate to see me choke on my tears
you hate to see me fall asleep writing black negativity
But then you sit back and take all the happiness from my fingertips
and leave me to dig holes around your helping hands
just to be slapped in the face again
Medicine and drugs are only temporary
shadows and a lack of oxygen are always
I've always said I don't know what I want
But while under hot streams
We're always craving temporary
when together there's nothing else to crave
but bed sheets and skin
It's a shot in the dark.
You'd rather temporary than always
and even though heartbreak is always
I know you could fix it temporarily
why am I still writing about you
I believe hearts are similar to lockets
you can open them and insert special items in them
they'll both tangle into knots when being misplaced for some time
They're both picked and pried at
or simply different lovers
Though a locket is lucky that it isn't alive
for it's chains would be broken by now
I've been having vivid day dreams of your lips
And my heart feels like its drowning in my fluid filled lungs
Why is it hard to breathe at the thought of u?
I have been told so many times that I am wrong
Wrong for having a C in English class
Wrong for finding happiness in razors and red wrists
and Wrong for loving you
if you look in each one of your curls
You can see every time my heart ached for your
are contentment when they clutch mine
I can only find contentment in the hazelnut coffee you used to drink
In the tie die shirt you left behind
And in the kind of cigarettes you smoke
When your paving new roads of living
But your own blood brings back the past like it’s a beautiful scrapbook
Pointing and adding their own comments like it's something new
But living In a trash bag will suffocate you.
You're the inconvenience at the bottom of that trash bag
Except they treat you like a silver spoon
Then realize you're merely a used plastic knife
And living in a trash bag will suffocate you.
They assume all your thoughts and feelings
Because you're dead to them
And bringing to your grave nothing but fists and bad attitudes
Being dead can't hurt you.
But unfortunately I'm in the bottom of the black trash bag
Along with immature arguments
And stinging comments
The fight I've put up hasn't been enough
Hopefully one day they’ll recycle this trash bag to become something new again.
My life is something I'm getting used to
Because every time a piece of my heart is torn away
It grows back
Like a lizards tail
But I'm just getting used to it.
And when 200 miles caused you to fall out of love with me
I never got over it
I'm not sure I can say that I got used to it.
It's still somewhere in the back corner of my brain
It sneaks up on me at night
And comforts me in my nightmares
I wake up screaming "come back!"
But I can't find a place to put this memory
I can't just drop it in the food disposal
And I don't know if I could ever let this memory go because it is the closest I'll ever be with you again
I lied. I'm not used to it
It's eating my insides again
and throwing up all the 'happy' pills
it's reaching out of my chest and grabbing my throat
It's closing my eye lids
and speaking the excuse of "I'm tired"
It's the mere aggravation of boredom
it's stupid poems replacing razors
It's believing no body cares
it's asking for help but refusing to take it
it's taking up so much of my mind that I don't know how to end this
I'm really not trying to hold this over your head.
How do I continue to stand with such a hollow body?
mostly filled with black tar and green smoke
your last kisses still sting my lips
even from three months ago
I don't know if I want the fairytale stings to stay or to leave
I don't know if I want to stay or to leave
All I know is that have indentions of where your arms used to be
burn holes where your eyes used to stare
and frozen hands from not being held
I thought my heart was left behind with you
but maybe you only took half
Because I still feel the sorrow flow through the holes in my heart
being pricked with pins and needles like a voodoo doll
your a black magic master
Fill my heart again with daisies
hold my hands and thaw them out
Patch up the holes in my skin with pieces of your band t-shirts
give a new meaning to "forever"
My mouth is filled with cotton *****
And my body has turned to aged stone.
You ******* put me on a respirator
And then pulled the ******* plug.
I saw you in my dreams
Kissing girls that were not me
But I received a phone call
Saying the exact same thing
I couldn't fall asleep
Not when you're in the bed with her.
and you just said you loved me
Last ******* Sunday
My insides are filling themselves with cement
But I'm still shaking as if in negative degree weather
But I can't change your drug soaked mind
Because your brain is in the **** jar and you really don’t give a ****
I'm not one to let things go
But this **** will never make your skin crawl
You and her are ******* under my skin
******* for not freaking giving a heck
See, I'm not allowed to go back to the welcome mat called home
Merely because of a boy with green lungs
Bedtime story mouths say you're heading down a path of destruction
But how am I supposed to sit back and let that happen?
Because a way of living they don't approve of,
I am force fed hypocritical helping hands
Moonlit hearts and guilty rules
That palpation in your heart called pain
Does not escape in the form of smoke, blood, or tears.
Listen to me
let my words sit in the crevices of your brain just this once
This is not good for me
Its eating me from the inside out
Leaving the memory of you behind
My heart is reproducing arms
And they are reaching out my chest
Stretching out for miles
Just trying to find you
You burn a fire in my lungs
rising my blood pressure
I throw up the blood
and leave it for my demons to clean up.
There's a shadow in my body
and I'm not sure if it's your old one that i borrowed a while back
you sleep in my arteries
like you sleep in skate parks
You bite my tongue and hit strangers' popcorn cans.
I know you've changed your clothes because I still have your shadow and his hair is a little shorter
your screaming but I can't open my mouth
your taking a baseball bat to my heart
and yet you don't give me any band aids for the scares you left me.
I've allowed mud drenched tennis shoes to step on my fingers
And FDA approved thoughts paint over mine
Going along with the idea that this is better
but once again, I'm wrong
On a scale from 1-10 I don’t believe this is happening
You can't put your hands in my pockets and control my direction
You can't take love away until its mixed feelings
What kind of love is that?
I said you can't change me into your perfect daughter
You can't make my feet follow your footsteps
You can't live in fear that ill find more peace in talking to razors than to you
Apparently your doing something wrong
I rather fry my brain cells
Than you pick at them trying to change their makeup
I rather burn holes in my lungs
Than have your negative comments each at my heart
Shouldn't you know from past experiences that kids will be kids?
Stop wasting your anxiety and my depression on this
Give me back my happiness rather than trying to conjure up me a new one
— The End —