But...
I wanna wrap shoelaces around my throat or slit my wrists and i dream of taking acid and climbing up a building & feeling so whole within the universe i can jump with euphoria.

This world was never small enough for me or maybe i just wasnt ready for the rebirth. Perhaps i am a genetic flaw & did you know cells in your body will target themselves or engulf their bodies because they know they dont belong?

Apoptosis

I tried to **** myself
Regretful
Moreso, that failure

You know, its so easy to die. Slip into oblivion and say nothing matters. To hide your sorrow until tomorrow disappears.

I woke up with thick grey half moons under my eyes, yellow-grey toned skin, one half red eye and a dozen bruises on my neck.

I dont want to lose the innocence i have left. This is my confession. Hatred burns in my heart, but not just at myself anymore & if it is not my fault i can never change this terrifying world. I feel so small, i could blink & disappear...

But still, somehow, in my absence, in the simple threat of loss, fear and pity enter the hearts of those among me. So vile. So heartbreaking. The tears on my moms face having driven three hours to see me are the worst waters i might encounter. A tsunami of emotion.

Life is pain. Death is emptiness. Suicide may be relief, but failure is guilt.

Is there a balance somewhere?

I am. And this awaken shudder
falling on the sands of unseen hourglasses
is precious in itself.

We are flowing, both you and I,
on these sand waves,
worn by dust, from world to world.

we are tasted by rain and feelings
with the appetite of a butterfly
recently freed from its chrysalis.

oh, we are! us, two strangers,
in perpetual metamorphosis,
forever oscillating between all and nothing.

I remember sitting with my legs crossed
at an empty parking lot with you.
Burning our lungs,
sharing our deepest secrets at 3am
while I rest my head
on your shoulder that cold summer night.
I sang along our favorite songs
and you wished that time stopped
so we could still be together.

But alas,

You are still too damaged.
You think too much.
You are too practical.
You are not yet ready for anything.

And I’m left confused
and angry
and frustrated
and a little bit hurt, I guess.

So here we are again,
so here we go again.

Who would have thought
that we would actually
burn even faster
than our cigarettes?

                                                    ­                        
 — apbq

Do not dream too loudly
You may awaken your conscience

                                        By Phil Roberts

With his head in his hands
And his heart on his sleeve
He closes his eyes against the light of day
And against his quiet despair
He pretends it is not real

But part of him knows
Deep down amongst half-remembered dreams
Emotions that appear from nowhere
And linger
Every cell of him knows

He knows a loss without closure
A conversation without words
Dreams without endings
And hoping without hope

He hears a knock on the door
But no-one walks in
He puts his head in his hands
And his heart on his sleeve
He pretends it is not real

                                           By Phil Roberts

I'm a puppet in your theater
You pull my strings for pleasure
So I dance to your command
And twist with each demand
Sometimes I think it a jest to see
That I am you and you thus me
For after the curtain falls
While the crowd's applause
Is it clear, can they decipher
The puppet from the master?
                 Dj