I don't speak much of my feelings
Loud is my mind thinking of you
But quiet when you're around
Full of love I have for you
Overflowing jar of hearts,
Room full of roses, Pink skies
All of them I have since you came
Though, I can't express my thoughts
One thing's for sure,
As peaceful as the night's breeze,
My heart speaks of your name
In silence, I love you
I choose the silent love
I don't want to be vocal about it
Don't be mistaken
I love you truly
Straight path of love I see
I'll do anything
Even getting the moon and stars
Just to make you smile
But surely, I'll do it in the silence of our hearts

I could feel that touch of yours in
every
single
nerve
in my body.

Don't fall in love with a drummer
You will hear him in every beat of every song
You will hear his voice imitate those beats
You will see him and his arms that used to hold you sweep over the cymbals and hollow cylinders
You will feel each hit of his drum sticks in your stomach and lungs instead of on those cymbals and hollow cylinders
You will remember the way he seemed to escape into another place from the moment of first impact
You will feel his arms guide your hands over the correct circles
Like he wanted you to escape with him
You will miss the sounds of him losing himself in the noise
You will miss the feeling of losing yourself in his noise

Why must I get myself stuck
I'm short for air
I can hardly breathe
My heart races fast
I think about my past
It's all too familiar

I pull the moon from the sky
And hand it to you
I take your broken heart
I mend all the pieces
Rid you of your diseases
Where does that leave me

I'm still in the dark
Grasping for air
Suffocating in my own house
Depleted of all my energy
Void of any memory
I am alone

Nothing is what I am
Not to you
Not to her
I'm just a crutch
Until you're on your feet again
I'm on my knees
Washing your feet
You walk away
Leaving me *****

No, I'm not worthy

tense, in the latest dense sense
genre in a milieu,
has poetry the last of the read
the meakest dead of a dead society;
her art heart words conflicting
with the quick signs of nascent
come hither
the bleakest nature of a coming and going
here now  culture.
I highly speak of her lost
virtues.
But whither I
among the
oranges we let fall
the apples rotted
on the trees
see seek the quick
prose
the way a novel
is now a novelty
today a
tweet hangout chat
is our way
to  ignomity

Wool eyes, pretty please I say
Spray paint my wedding dress
With my drug scarf tightly wrapped around me
You'll be my party hat
Crab apples rooting in the flask of my stomach  
With a tinfoil ring you purposed
My glass hands cracked
The smell of your aftershave curls my lip
Minuscule wombs carelessly flung in my suicide toolbox
My own blood has become my moisturizer

my body
is my body.
let me do
as i please.
paint a
never-ending galaxy
of stars
and planets
on my back.
write a
story of heartbreak
and sadness
on my stomach.
plant a
garden of roses
between my thighs.
ink your
name
on my *******
so that i may
always have you
near my heart.
swim in
the roaring oceans
of my mind
and pick up
stray seashells.
my body
is my body.
let me do
as i please.

the frustration I had
after failing
to bring myself to ******
for the
tenth
time this past week
makes me more
furious
than depressed

seriously
my *** drive
has always been high

as soon as I
got over
the shame
society places on women
for enjoying
their sexuality
I have always used
*******
as a release
relieves
stress
leaves me
relaxed
and
content

or should I say,
left me
feeling that way

usually
it was once a day
fairly frequent
but, it
matched
my *** drive's
needs

what the **** is wrong with me

I have tried
imagining,
watching,
reading,
looking at
every form
of erotica
that exists

I have searched
through everything
I can find
from
****,
******,
stories,
comics

and my search history
will let you know
that I've searched
everything
from
****
to
******
to
interracial lesbian forced *******
and things
worse
than that

e v e r y t h i n g

used to take me,
oh, I dunno
maybe three minutes
with my *******?

after
around an hour
is when I give up
now
I even bought
a different
*******
NO
RELEASE
NO
PASSION
GONE
what is
WRONG
WITH
ME

oh yeah -
depression

I mean
I knew it was bad
when video games
no longer
had appeal
that was enough

games
have been a passion
and a hobby of mine
since I was five

the other hobby
I started a bit older than five
but
you stole that one, too

after depression
beat the **** out of me
on Tuesday
I thought that was it
thought
since the next morning
I awoke
without the urge
to **** myself
it was over

nope

you have robbed me
of the simplest
things
in my life
that give me pleasure

no more
wriggling
moaning
spasming
the tingling
sensation
that starts in my toes
and makes its way
up
the length of my body
the warmness
that follows
with it
the
satisfaction
slight smile
snuggly
sleepy
post ****** me

I miss her
give her
back

I miss my life
give it
back

this isn't
ME
for ***** sake!

I am a ******
witty
humorous creature
full of passion
looking
for opportunities
to get myself off!
not this
depressed
apathetic
vessel
without soul.

you won't stop
until you have
everything
in my life

you won't stop
until you
put
my soul in your mouth
chew
grind
crush it

your saliva
breaks me down

spit me out
please
I am fighting
for you to cough me up
regurgitate
the essence
of me
let me put myself
back inside this body
please
please

no
you won't stop
you will eat my soul
until
ever fiber
protein
ounce of health
I had
is now
inside of you,
depression

cold-hearted *****