This is a list of the times I allowed myself to collapse.
These are the reasons I tried to drown myself in a bathtub filled with thick crimson and cheap liquor.
This is my final suicide note.

1. Today in science class my teacher brought out the human skeleton and I wished it was me.
2. I've never drank whiskey, but when my blood turns to Bourbon, I need to open the bottle.
3. I cannot count the times I've created spines on the mirror. I need to kiss the white lines.
4. The cats are meowing, they're hungry. I am so focused on not feeding myself that I have forgotten to feed them.
5. I'm a lot like cigarettes. I light easily. Burn out quickly. Focused on destroying you-always destroying myself.
6. I've got poison in my veins-I unzip myself daily. When I kissed you- I infected you. We have poison in our veins. Addicted to destroying ourselves. The Devil will watch and be envious.
7. I am 17. I have attempted suicide too many times to count. Every time in a different way.
          a. cliche; slit my wrist open and let flowers spill.
          b. drowned myself in a handful of pills and a bottle of *****.
          c. hung myself with my bedsheet.
          d. decayed my stomach lining with bleach
          e. starved the ugly out of me-let my bony knuckles callus.  
This time I am going to fling myself from a building, call my friends, and hope they'll catch me.

Because I never truly wanted to die.
I want to be saved from myself. I want someone to zip me back up. I want to look at the sun and not think about burning. I want to be able to sit in a bathtub with clear water. I want to eat a candy bar, and not taste it twice. I want someone to look at me and see flowers-not blades.
I wish I had green thread to sew my veins back together. I wish I had a syringe, i'd **** the poison from my blood. I wish I knew what love felt like, maybe I could perfect the practice.

This is not a poem.
This is not written with the intent to explain myself because I don't know myself well enough to explain.
This is a suicide note.
This is my last suicide note.

The night I attempted it
they said it was just a phase
I was not suffering,
it was just a hard day.
Little did they know
it wasn’t the first try
and I really did wish I could die.
I guess they didn’t know
all about me
and how i was an artist
underneath my sleeves.
But if they saw inside my head
they would know the truth
about that night
on the roof.
Because it was not a phase
or just a bad day,
my mind is a twisted
chaotic maze.
They would see
it happens all the time,
the depressing thoughts
that suffocate me like a vine.
Perhaps it’s best that they don’t know
the reasons
because every day to me
is suicide season.

with apologies to Aaron Sorkin*

The atheist starts off with,
“this is silly.” I think I see
him sense the abrupt change
of atmosphere walking through
the threshold into a chapel like
plunging into lake water naked.
When the actress kneels, the atheist explains
how God shouldn’t be so vain, I think of
the actress and whether or not, with her real
kneeling in the fake chapel, she actually prays.
She says, “You don’t kneel for Him; you kneel for you.”
The atheist storms out saying that “This just doesn’t
feel right,” The atheist is outraged that a mother is bleeding
to death, her baby may have no father, and someone’s
little brother is being held hostage by Islamic fundamentalists.
I remember two conversations:
Courtney telling me that God wasn’t saving me
when my brake lines rusted out in the TGI Fridays
parking lot instead of on the 74 bridge.
River telling me that she feels blessed that God has watched
over all the people in her life who have attempted
suicide, because they failed. She hastily tries to add
that God was also watching over Jenny, but is too
worried that she hurt me. Right before the scene switches
The actress looks upand tells God
that the atheist “made some good points.”

the culture cut into our wrists.
feeling all or nothing was the trick.
kurt and elliot were dead,
pretty prescriptions we all wed.

we talked vicious and vague.
it kept our parents afraid.
only bought music if it was recorded in omaha.
quoted lyrics to the traditionals, oh my god.

the corners of every corridor were crammed.
glazed eyes making meaningless, drifting forlorn.
"i feel sad"
"gee, that's awful bad."

if they weren't depressed,
they were called liars.
if they were on anti-depressants,
they were kings.
if they attempted suicide,
they were a pope.

projections we were.
of all the dead words we heard.

I am a hypocrite.
I tell my friends they have to eat,
when I don't.
I tell them not to listen to what others say
when I do.
I tell them they shouldn't cut
when i do
I tell them life is worth living
when I've attempted suicide.
I tell them to be happy
when I'm battling depression.
But regardless,
know I am here
For anyone battling depression
Anyone considering suicide,
Cutting,
Not eating,
Questioning their self worth,
Or maybe just sad.
I am here.

You are poetry;
I can see it in the jagged lines that run across your forehead,
I see it in your sad forced smiles-
And your curled fingers with your soul dipped ink dripping down your hand
You are covered in poetry so beautiful
But all you see is a broken girl
With a haunting past of a daddy that abandoned you
And an ex boyfriend who broke your heart
You think 'attempted suicide' is stamped across your forehead
But ****, you're the most beautiful thing I've seen
And your body is the most beautiful poetry I've read

Its frightening as a thunderclap in a twilight forest and as deafening as the steady drip-drops in a cavern beyond light.
As choking as being tossed asunder with no life preserver in a raging sea, to be swallowed in ice and time.
As sought after as a ******'s pure kiss, by needy fervent lips and steady hands gripping all the more tighter.
   As feared as Death's embrace, if not more, because it says you are finally alone.
     It is that blissful white noise, that comes with a much sought after release with a patient and attentive lover.
       It is the steady dull ache in your bones, as the glistening blade caresses your skin.

      As it washes over me I breathe deep. I feel the fear, and the panic as to what if they find me this time, and will they ever.
     But as I let wave after wave crash down upon me, drip after drop hit the floor.
     As my fear gives way to bliss my lover could not bring, my panic drifts to calm from the songs the knife does sing.
...As comforting as floating in the ocean, as soft as a lovers sated kiss, as lost as a child's purity, and as beautiful as Lady Death's familiar arms.

   I cannot wait to seek the cool embrace once again...