I remember the first time I saw you,
I sank into those beautiful pools,
Felt the love in your touch,
Saw the love in your eyes,
You were my angel
I'd go through hell to have you.

But there's no hell,
I can't have you,
And that's my greatest pain.

Everyone has been hurt.
Everyone feels hurt.
We either suffer, check out or
make meaning,
As pain is inevitable.

Living for granted - that's what happens to you
Messy beds, empty skies
As tears run on by
The feeling of emptiness pervades us when we take living for granted

You keep telling me words
That I can't understand

Because my brain has checked out
I am no longer there

People keep talking to me
But I can't hear their voice

My head hurts
From all of this warbled noice

My heartbeat has slowed
I wanted to go to bed

But you are stopping me
From resting my weary head

You can always tell a self destructive writer
By their poetry

Because sometimes they are redundant
And other times they are expressing pain

But they always tell a story of being hurt
And locked into their own head

But this my dear, is why they write
Because the person in their head is trying to get out

Self destructive writers
Are usually dark

But when they are light
They tell you how perfect you are

So that you don't do the same thing
That they did to themselves

Self destructive writers
Don't want you to make their scars
On your arms

Woodcutter.
Cut out my shadow.
Free me from the torture
of seeing myself fruitless.

Why was I born among mirrors?
The daylight revolves around me.
And the night herself repeats me
in all her constellations.

I want to live not seeing self.
I shall dream the husks and insects
change inside my dreaming
into my birds and foilage.

Woodcutter.
Cut out my shadow.
Free me from the torture
of seeing myself fruitless.