My skin is not mine
I am repulsed by my flesh
In the dark
You cover me
I disappear
We blend into each other
I am repulsed by my flesh
In the dark

How can you stand my scent?
If I hold you at arms length
Will you see how I rot?
Will you see how I burn
for gratification,
for validation,
for a sense of worth?

I ache to be awakened
from this state of ghostly death,
for fingertips to spring alive
the paleness of skin, numbness of breath

I cannot touch myself
I cannot stare in the glass
Or I will become a murderer
I am repulsed by my flesh
In the dark

Humans. Evil by nature, killers by choice.
Caring only for themselves, and not taking a second to consider another.
Thinking that they deserve more than everyone else.
They **** first, ask questions later.
They tear eachothers lives apart.
They trampeled everything I held dear and tore my dreams to shreds with words.
They embody everything I despise.
Yet, I am trapped inside of one.

I've seen the beauty
of the trees

the way the sun glistens
through tangled leaves

In the chaos
of this eyeless world

I can't even try
to believe
It's nothing at all

I am lost in a Whirlpool of thoughts
               waiting for an answer

I am falling into the abyss of
                               worries

My mind is a jungle in full chaos

Can I ever be free?

Night is so silent
Blackness so cold.
With a whisper I shatter
All that had grown old.
Sunset is peaceful
Silence is bliss
But when that is gone
There is a gaping abyss.
Coldness surrounds me
As dark as black death
I give up for
Night is the day’s death.

Life.
Death.
Its amazing how words
so simple.
so ordinary.
so usual.
can have the impact of thousands.

How I wish to bathe in sleep
to keep my dreams in
waters deep
and swim through images so bleak
then wash them all
in waters deep.
A clean slate some would say is good,I'm
not so sure but if I could,
I'd wipe away the yesterdays,to gaze upon
a new blank page
and write on it a story new where
each chapter
would begin with you.

My eyes are closed
I cannot see,
this sleep forever eludes me
until I get to chapter three
and all becomes
what is,
will be.

The beauty of a woman
is in the poems she's wrote,
the dreams she's weaved
and all the stories she's told.

The beauty of a woman
is in the adventures she's taken,
the lives she's touched
and all the minds she's awakened.

The beauty of a woman
is in the caring she gives,
the sincerity in her laughter,
and the passion in her griefs.

It's not the expensive clothes she owns,
her body size, the diamonds she's worn.
Measure not the beauty of woman in gold,
for the beauty of a woman is reflected in her soul.