The last one was my perfect prince.
The one I dreamed about so long ago.
His brown hair and brown eyes matched what I saw.
His stature and his features were precise.
I thought I met an angel,
but I met the devil himself instead.
Not only did this one hurt me
but he broke my trust.
The devil can be beautiful.
He can ring as honest as a bell
but drip lies like a poisoned dart.
This last one was a nightmare disguised as a dream.
He was a mix between the first two.
Sweet and handsome,
but violent and misleading.
Helpful and happy,
but hurtful and cowardly.
I loved him.
With everything that I had.
And he was just the ******* devil.

What is it like to be *****?

It's like waking up and having sleep paralysis.
You can't move your arms,
you can't move your legs.
You can hardly breathe and the whole time you're panicking.
Until you just accept that you can't change it.
You've tried shaking yourself awake
and getting your limbs to flail in an attempt to move yourself.
But nothing works.

It's like waking up with a target on your back
begging boys and men to call you a **** because you
"shouldn't have drank so much."
Is 2 beers and half a cup of whiskey "too much" to you?
Did you acknowledge the fact that it might have been spiked?
Nobody believes you because all the details weren't perfect,
and because you weren't the perfect victim.

Imagine saying no 3 times after he begs you
"please, baby, it'll just be in and out, really quick."
Imagine him getting frustrated with you,
shoving you down on your back
and taking off your pants.
Imagine how it feels when he goes inside of you.
It's like your soul is ripping out of you from the inside,
and the worst part is that you think you're in love with that human.
And because of that, you don't say anything.
You're in shock that he did it,
and he takes your silence as a compliment while he brags about how "tight" you are.

Now you're dating someone four years later.
He's a new guy, and respectable.
He's sweet and wouldn't harm you, that you know of.
You've decided not to tell him about the baggage you carry around
from being a **** victim because it always causes problems.
You've since gotten over the emotional damage for the most part.
But he's started to notice the way you flinch
when he touches certain areas of your body.
The way you get quiet when he doesn't understand why you're not in the mood,
because you're too scared to hurt his feelings.

The memories of what happened to you are always going to be there.
They will never leave.

except...
my heart is as cold as the ice
on the ground...
dead as the trees come winter.
how i miss my family
in a land so far away...

Not a day goes by anymore where I don't
curse this volatile world for bringing me into it.
I'm angry.
I'm Sad.
I hate everything.
I'm a coward.
And I hate God and all religion.
I'm just an infantile complain-ee who can't seem to feel anything except hate and anger.
I'm over the death and the sadness and the violence of this iniquitous, depraved place we humans call Home.
Everyday, I wake up to the anger in my burning, nauseous stomach and wonder why I have to be such a coward.
Sometimes life is great but then I'm reminded that life involuntarily defecates on everything that matters even a little bit.
I used to pray to your so called God for help
Because it was what one of my friends would have done.
But now I see that even in her time of need, He was gone.
The devout little Christian girl that Christ didn't want to save simply because it would require work.
There is no hope for this manic, putrid planet.
I'm done being nice and pretending that I'm a good person.

Sometimes
when I lay awake at night,
I think of what my heart looks like
if someone were to
cut me open.
I wonder
if he would try to break it.
I wonder
if he would sit down and intently
watch me bleed.
Probably
not. He'd walk away before I took
my last breath.

I am an engine, and I will run without stopping until i fail.
Until i sputter and spit.
Until I'm wheezing for nourishment;
For proper maintenance.
I'll get you out of your holes,
And carry you up that mountain so your legs wont have to do the work.
I'll keep you warm in the winter.
I'll make sure you're cool in the summer.
I'll carry you for hundreds of miles before i need a break.
And when I break down, need an oil job,
Need a part replaced,
You'll fix it.
Begrudgingly, but you'll fix it.
And then off I go, working, working working.
Spitting, sputtering, wheezing, coughing.
Finally, I die. A bad fuel line,
And rusty pistons that don't pump anymore.
I am discarded.

I

will never forget

how he

used us both.

I

will never forget

how

you forgave

a boy so vile.

Call

me friend, but

betray me over and over.

I

will never forget.

It is moments like these
as the sun sets behind the horizon;
be hind the mountains and the clouds
and the city buildings,
that I realized how incredibly luck I am.
I am alive to see the beauty of the pink
orange-yellow and perrywinkle sky.
The way the palm trees cast their shadows
and are silhouetted against the stars.
To be able to make mistakes and learn from them.
Owning up to a mistake is possibly the most mature thing that one can do.
I have made many terrible ones.
And I am owning up to them all.
To right the wrongs,
to better the worse.
I remember when I thought life was simpler
than life truly is.
Sharing cigarettes with Mandie,
walking to Lauber's with Victoria,
sitting on my porch at night and pondering why I am alive.
It was somehow easier than it is right now.
I miss it...

//

He went on for weeks about how depressed he was.
He told me that he didn't know what was wrong.
He felt the need to cling to me.
He felt like I wasn't being there for him.
He felt like he loved me.

Flash forward to right now.

Are you dating Mariem?

Are you stalking me?

No, but I saw an Instagram post.

Silence

Basically.

Hahaha, wow.

What?

Nothing, I hope you're happy with her.

I am, thank you.

He went on for weeks about how depressed he was.
He went on for weeks telling me he loved me and that he needed me.
If he ever lost me, he would be destroyed.
And yet,
he loves her.
So does that mean he never loved me?

//

I am envious
of all the people I see laughing with their friends.
They all have a connection with each other
be it music
or love
or specific pet peeves that no one else has.
I remember a time when I felt those connections.
I felt connected to the universe.
Like I was sure about where I was and why.
I wish I could turn my ears off.
I wish I didn't have to hear
them laughing
being happy
as I sit here being a miserable little ****.

death is cold.
its the snow on the ground in the winter;
the darkness of a moonless night.
its the chill creeping up your back,
around your shoulders.
its the whisper that you hear in the wind,
or the shadow you see around the corner.
death is the burn of fire
on your bare, vulnerable skin.
death is crying his name in the dark,
convulsing, shaking, seething.
death is driving past that horrid place
at midnight;
thinking of drowning in the dark sea.
death is the warmth you feel
at your back when you feel nothing at all.
its the ghost that you miss.
its the voice that you can't hear anymore.
death is permanent.
death is....
free.

I think out of all the baristas at Coffee Rush,
Kenny is my favorite.
He banters with me playfully,
as he does with everyone.
But even when I am sad or under the weather,
Kenny is there to make me feel better.
With dumb jokes,
or a comforting you'll be okay. We got you.
Kenny is very wholesome
and wants nothing but the best for most people.
Kenny is good.
Be like Kenny.

(CONTENT WARNING: NSFW)

Tonight he gave me a full body massage.
He massaged my back and my neck, worked his way down to my legs and told me to flip over.
I laid on my back, in just my underwear as he rubbed my legs.
He looked at me, with a sort of hunger in his eyes, and he said,
"You sure you want a full body massage?"
I said yes.
He started to rub me, in my most vulnerable area.
He kissed my neck, my cheek, my lips.
He kissed me from my lips to my chest to my pelvis.
And then he really kissed me.
He flicked his tongue up and down, and drove me insane with pleasure.
Then he started using his fingers.
I was seeing pure, absolute bliss.
Shaking and shuddering happily with every touch, squirming and moaning.
"Mmm, you like that, baby?" he asked.
Then it hit me, like an explosion of light.
The heat of relief and pleasure, complete relaxation and happiness.
Yes, I said. I pleaded that I needed him.
I wanted him so badly.
"I don't think you want me enough," he said, and I groaned, agonized by his tease.
I really ******* do, I said as I grabbed him and pulled him closer.
He took off his shirt and his boxers,
And pushed inside of me.
It was beautiful and hot, and it felt so good.
I was squirming.
I wanted it hard and fast, but he teased me slowly and gently.
He pulled my hair, he kissed me.
"Is this what you want?" He asked as he ****** deeper and harder.
I was mad with a need for him.
I growled, yes, please baby.
He went wild, then.
And when he finished, I saw that same light and felt that same relaxation.
We were a heap of flesh and sweat and wild love.
"I love you," he told me in a gentle tone, and he kissed my lips.
I love you too, I replied happily.

I let your name roll off
My tongue,
One last time.
Like water, dripping down
A melting icicle;
That, and nothing more.

I am Alice.
Today I woke up where the grass is greener
and the sky is bluer.
The sun shines brighter and illuminates
The shadows and the vile creatures within them.


Floating
                 Back through the sky like a cloud;
                 racing towards eternal life,
                
up
                 to the warm earth.
                 I try to see myself in
the
                 world we live in today.
                 I can see myself running towards it,
                 fast like a
rabbit
                 chasing after the scent of carrots.
                 Chasing after life outside of the rabbit

hole.

For 8 years straight, you've called me worthless more times than I can count.
Called me stupid,
ugly
fat
useless
An ungrateful little *****.
For eight. Years. Straight.
You told me that all my life,
Since I was a old enough to walk.
All the bad things that have happened to me,
Are all my fault.
"You're worthless."
I started to believe it, at one point in time.
Started to think you were right.
But... recently I've come to believe that
you are the worthless one.
You, are a worthless waste of ******* space on this planet.
You, deserve everything that happened to you.
Your kids getting taken away.
Your brother killing himself after you refused to go and get him.
Your failing marriage.
Your **** relationship with your family.
And it's all because YOU are the worthless one.