Trains and airplanes
with razorblades are escapades
washing machines spinning like my mind
eyesight failing, only seeing red
itches and aches
the sun burns my skin
closet darkness, dampened coolness
fingers scraping against my shins
blood is drawing, artful painting
rivulets and small dots
between a hard place and a tall rock

Razorblades and escapades
bandages and runaways
suicides bled from slashes harmonized

I'm falling apart (again)
and the tight seams of my mentality
are quickly fraying in this silence.
This silence is more than simply just that.
It is built up of sudden unemployment combined with
the empty spaces around me (that once held friends)
and the lack of motivation to do anything (caused by the overwhelming listlessness of my Depression).

The hardest things are really quite simple:
go to sleep
eat at least one meal a day
shower
go outside once in a while
breathe (deeply)
get out of bed
wake up
call someone (to temporarily fill the empty spaces)
feed the cat (which I manage to do during the few moments I'm awake)
clean up a bit
breath (once more).

The Depression has one outlet (that works)
but for once there is not even the urge
to engage in that self destructive action.

The search for a job is needlessly difficult,
for each time I find that the scars on my arms,
all over my body,
make me "ineligible."
The ones that seem not to care about such things
are either paying minimum wage and are part time
(neither of which pays the rent, car insurance, and other bills that always, always add up),
or I do not have the certification or degree to have them
(school is expensive and I will do whatever it takes to never live in the same building as my parents- even being homeless).

And friends?
How can one make and keep or even briefly have even one,
when they themselves don't have even the faintest idea of how
to let others in?
To trust them (any more than one would trust a person holding a gun to the back of their head)?

I'm wide awake, with this screamin' in my head
fairies dancing in my stead.
Body over-heating, I just need to get away.
All I want is to be free again,
running with the wind and taking flight.
But instead, I'm being held down by these chains
and struggling to break free.
And now again,
I'm lost with all the things that I
left behind so long ago.
All I want is to be free again,
one day I'll fly away and leave this all behind
to a yesterday that no longer exists.
These screams will stop and the fairies will fall,
no longer will I be surrounded by these lies.
And this emptiness inside will disappear.
No regrets for the choices I have made,
only for the ones that never had the chance to be made.

Who are you,
who speaks as if I do not exist?
And yet speaks of me when you
think I cannot hear?
Who are you,
who is so mean?
And thinks they are so funny,
but isn't, and nobody laughs.
Who are you,
who scolds with disdain and contept,
and is a **** when with others?
Who are you,
who thinks they can and should have
everything they want?
Who thinks they're cool, but isn't.
Who are you?

Would you fight...
to protect me?
Would ou cry...
if I were killed?
Would you hold me in the night
while tears cascade from my eyes?
Would you chase after me
if I ran away from you?
Would you visit...
if I were in the hospital?
Would you care...
if I died right now?
Would you notice...
if I disappeared?

Would you?