Do you ever feel alone?
Not just alone, but
...alone.

Everything is kind of empty,
and you can't quite feel whole.
Sure, there are people around,
but you don't really feel there,
or maybe it's they who aren't there.

It's not just alone,
it's *lonely.

Snakes
Being alone forever
The dining room table
The mysterious food in my fridge
Inadequacy
Nail salons
Being forgotten
Alleys in the dead of night

Somewhere along the way,
I decided it was better to feel nothing at all.
Better not to hurt, not feel, not to suffer.
The canary in my birdcage heart has stopped singing
and we all know it's dead,
It's time to leave before we all perish
in the wasteland of myself.

I'm very aware that my writing is... lacking.
But so am I.
So keep your thoughts to yourself.

....please.

Are you an empty soul,
or just empty inside?

Will you count the stars with me
until I fall asleep?
I cannot hold them in my hand.
Forever, I will reach out to catch one as it falls.
Maybe their light could provide some warmth.
It's so cold here.

Are we still human?
Maybe, we're too broken.
Too lost, too far gone,
to be considered human.
Are we still human?
After all that's said is done.
Maybe it's just not right.
It's not okay not to be okay.
Are we still human,
if at night, we forget how to feel?
Are we still human,
When we can't breathe anymore?
Are we still human,
When we've given up hope?
Are we still human?

I met you that hot summer day
On the side of the road,
Selling produce in the middle of nowhere:
With that strawberry blonde hair
And those adorable freckles.

You were my strawberry boy.
I always loved the taste
but hated the fruit.
But I would but five thousand
Just to see you again.

They leave a bad taste,
Bitter on the tongue;
The words I never said.

They fluttered around,
Desperate to escape,
But I swallowed them whole.

I love you,
I hate you,
Please don't go.

I swallowed them,
but it sickened me
to keep them contained.

We don't talk about it.
When someone brings up
their body, your imperfections,
the way her eyes don't light up,
the scars on my wrists,
We brush it off and turn away.
We cannot talk about it.

I try not to think about
how much I hate myself.

Self hatred is taboo.
Unhappiness isn't permitted.
But we're all so miserable.
Wouldn't it be better if
we didn't feel so alone?

The truth is
God is five years old.
She was born in 2010.
She's never known a world
without computers,
without constant war,
without the fear of terrorists,
without news everyday of another shooting.
Today, she looked at me
and asked why her world
is falling to pieces in our hands.
I couldn't answer her.

Pull the trigger for me,
                                            
                                                        
       ­                                     *I can't do it myself.

They said I should forget about you.
That I can't love what doesn't exist anymore.
But to me, you're still so real.
Every last memory is tangible,
tangled threads ensnaring my fingers,
I'm still reaching out for you.

We were young and in love,
what a sad cliche.
You were such a dreamer,
and opened my eyes to art and poetry and music.
I still love all those things,
but they remind me of you,
all so tangible, but intangible all the same.

They said I should forget about you.
That I cannot love what doesn't exist anymore.
But they're wrong.
You still exist
and I don't believe in love.
Not anymore, not with you
gone from this world.

Do her red lips enchant you?
The curve of her body screams of sin.
Her alluring eyes, and her thick lashes,
Falling under her spell with a wink.
Weak minded fool,
Do not fall for the temptress.
Her siren's song echoes across the room,
Insidious eyes follow her as she walks.
You mean nothing to her,
you should know it.
You'll be her toy,
Another disposable lover
in a long line of trash.
Enjoy the pleasure and games,
They never last long with her.
Temptation, I call her.
Know it well,
Temptation never stays.

If you give a king an army,
****** war will besiege us.
Power is all consuming.
If you can, you will.
Isn't it your god given right?
Well what are you and your god
going to do when everyone is dead?
Your war has wrecked this havoc
and it is time to bring it to an end.
There is no nation to rule
when all your citizens have been
sent off to die in battle.

His laugh broke the silence.
I stared at the ground, closing my locker.
Looking up, he looks down at me.
His smirk darkens as I shrink away.
"Just leave me alone, please?"
The whisper falls from my tongue,
but I know he hears.
Another cruel laugh,
suddenly, i'm pinned against the lockers.
and he's talking low.
"Not in a million years."
He walks away,
leaving me with my fear.

I'm coming for you
Ten.
Quickening breath.
Nine.
Racing heart
Eight.
Creaky floor.
You can't hide, little lady
Seven.
Quiet whimper.
Six.
Silent gulp.
I like these games, my pretty
Five.
Shadowy figures.
Four.
Hear the whispers.
The thing is, I always win.
Three.
Closed eyes.
Two.
Heart in throat.
Found you.*
One.
Blood curdling scream.

I haven't slept in quite a few days.
A week maybe.
The occasional hour of nightmare ridden rest
has not done anything for me.

I've starting forgetting words,
Mixing them up or saying the wrong word.
Even mispronouncing them.
I barely have the energy to think

I spent an hour crying because I thought I had wrinkles under my eyes,
But they were only bags and shadows.
I'm too young for this.

It's hard to focus,
I sob and laugh for no reason.
I'm cracking
And I can't stop thinking about what you did.
I'm afraid to sleep.

Is it the end of an era?
No.
Is it the end of an age?
No.
Is it the end of me?
Maybe.

The end of an ending,
My dear, we've barely begun,
But this has been coming,
The ending must be at the end.

When there are storms,
and the rains beats relentless
against the cool glass panes,
and the rumbles of thunder
shake the walls i've built;
I curl up in bed
with a favorite book
and a steaming,
fragrant cup of tea
and think, perhaps,
*It is almost a good life.

What is it that makes someone attractive?
How do you define beauty?
Is it cheekbones flushed with pleasure?
Collarbones bruised with passion?
The way the slender fingers dance across piano keys?
Sleepy voices cracking softly?
The curve of hips against silk?
Five o'clock stubble against smooth skin?
Muscles tensing and spines arching?
What is attraction?

I woke up dead.
I was still breathing,
But something inside me had given up.
The light had died.

Maybe it was never there to begin with.
Maybe I've alway been less alive than everyone else.
I like to watch the living.
The way they smile when nothing is special enchants me.

I've not been among them for a long time.
They're beautiful, the living.
They look so natural, so fresh, so new.
Like flowers in the spring before the heat of the summer withers their beauty away.

I wish I could be among them,
But instead, I'll stay alone,
And watch from a distance,
Forever wishing my life back.

The man with ember eyes
sets my mind alight
with his touches,
skin tingling with the memory
of his soft hands, touching each pore.
He stepped inside my walls
and melted the ice of my heart
with the burning ember of his eyes.
And as I lay on the soft blue sheets,
he walked out the door
and never came back.
My friends agony and shame
once again wrapped their hands in mine.

Lucifer, the one that shines,
the morning star,
God's favorite,
cast from heaven for his sins.
And by that sin fell the angels.

but do you really believe that the devil is a monster?
That he, who was an angel, is grotesque?
No, he is beautiful and tempting,
an angel dwelling on earth,
and, god, he knows how to play a person.

Lucifer just wanted to be more like God,
is that so wrong for him to desire?
Thrown from paradise for
wanting to be like his father.
How sickening.

I used to write.
Now, I stare.
I stare at the paper
and the blank white screen.
Red ink unused in my pen,
no longer blue ink stains on my hands.
Ever since we met,
I can no longer feel enough to write.
I used to write.

A ****** girls stands on the corner.
She's to young to be this aged.
Flirty winks and forced smiles
draw the suited men in.
Heavy makeup, short skirt
Drugs to forget her misdeeds
Reminds herself not to flinch,
their ***** hands ghost across her skin.
She throws away her morals
to please a corrupt man.
For the price of disobedience
Is her fleeting life.

How do you forget your suffering?
How does it become
just a nightmare?

You occasionally wake in sweat,
a loved one cradling your face,
whispers of "It's alright, dear."
Were you crying in your sleep?
A half remembered dream,
you no longer know.
You close your eyes and return to sleep,
loved one's body against yours.

When will your suffering
only haunt you on the coldest of nights,
like a half remembered past life?

Those who are quiet,
are silent for a reason.
Those who don't speak
without cause and thought,
They are important.
Listen when the quiet ones speak
For wisdom and kindness float from their tongues.

I used to count the stars
when I was anxious.

It was beautiful when
they fell from the sky.
Everyone took pictures
and spoke of the
art of destruction.

There are no stars now
and the night grows cold
and all anyone does
is ask *why?

Won't you come,
come dwell in the shadows?*
I've always found the night
to be far safer than day.
Live in the shadows,
embrace the darkness,
you needn't hide away
when the world is dark.
Dark is cozy and safe,
Sunlight is so harsh,
never gentle anymore.
Won't you come?
The shadows are so enticing.
Love in the darkness,
Where you will be safe.

A man once told me
that hands say more than lips
and eyes cannot lie.

So I knew,
when your hand struck my face,
and your gaze hardened;
the apologies on your lips
meant nothing.

The sun sets too early.
There's never enough light
to keep the darkness at bay.
Golden warmth against chilling black,
I begged the sun never to leave.
There's never enough light,
and there's even less hope
to win the war
when my source of light
has run away.

I keep looking for someone
who sees the world how I do.
Swirling metaphors
and striking colors,
Sunsets and beauty
and tragedy....

But perhaps I need
a facts and figures
Logical kind of person,
To pull my head out of the clouds.