Every little sound.
Every person in sight.
Every shadow in a corner.
Every flicker of a light.

Heart starts racing.
Beating out of the chest.
Sweat down the temples.
Shaking like a wreck.

Tears down the face.
Running out of breath.
Mouth desert dry.
Mind so befret.

This is paranoia.
Every second of every day.
This is what I go through.
The fear that always stays.

This is paranoia.
The terror of simple life.
This is how the years will be lived.
Scared and riddled with strife.

I'll sing my own funeral song
And attend my wake alone
I'll write and read my eulogy
And drive my hearse home.

I'll sing my own funeral song
Send my own soul to rest
I'll pray over my casket
And mourn my life and death.

I'll sing my own funeral song
Place a single flower on my grave
I'll out myself into the ground
And cover my stilled face.

I don't want it
Neither do you
Pass it, pass it
To somebody new
Who's fault, who's fault?
Not your's, not you
Who's fault!?
We'll find one or two
To give this to
Because no one want it here
No one wants it at all
Owning up is overrated
Honesty goeth before a fall
So pass the blame
Assumptions with no names
Don't stop this train
Of unattached blame
And we'll never own up
Never say "enough"
And when the blame's far away
We'll raise another up.

I'm waiting
   For the number
       On the scale to




Disappear.

I'm sick and tired of begging you
And dropping hints isn't enough
But I'll cry my entire heart out
Because this isn't love.

I don't expect much
Not from you, at least
But as many times as I've pleaded
The least you could do is read.

Read the words I wrote in my blood
In phrases I ripped from my soul
See the punctuation I crafted from tears
Notice the warmth of love or hatred's frigid cold.

Know me from this poetry
Because I've instilled my life in them
Judge me or accept me as you read
Reject me or call me a friend.
.
.
.
Or, I suppose, you could refuse
Tell me you'd read them, though that's a lie
And I'll drown in my own insecurity
After you've decided not to read, I'll cry.

If family would turn you away and friends leave you to die
If the world fleece you down and colleagues wring you dry
Find peace and pleasure within yourself, find the strength to try
To be your own family,  friend, and work mate with no help from outside.

.

True self-sufficiency is needing yourself alone
But interacting with others regardless
To ease the heavy loads of life.

.

Remember that life is important in the now
But never in the later or a larger scale.
You are what you make of the present
Despite your past and to shape your future.

.

There is no purpose to life besides what you give it
There is no way to waste time, you're young as **** until you die.

.

Rather than worry what others might think of what you do
Worry instead what you will think of yourself
When you have done everything or nothing at all.

.

This is not a road to sprint or run upon
This is not a marathon or an endurance race
This is simply meandering in the way you choose
You set your own duration and pace.

.

When you can do nothing at all and the world lies on your shoulders
Breathe.
It is all you will ever be required to do.

You've got me crying tonight
I've never heard the things you say to me.
I've never had the opportunity to enjoy
Sweet words without pondering
Contemplating
Wondering if I'm being mocked.

I can't breathe through the lump in my throat
I can't think past the disbelief
That you're with me. Like me. See me
As something special.
It boggles my mind and guides me
Straight to tears.

I'm smiling and I'm crying
I'm happy.
I don't have the right words
For this feeling
But thank you for it.
You have,
You will,
And you do amaze me.

Constantly.

Poetry is for those losers
Who understand life better than you
When you're ripping up their paper
And stealing their lunch food

Poetry is for that loser
You pushed down the stairs yesterday
Who wasn't and isn't at school anymore
Because the hospital's trying to fix the breaks

Poetry is for those losers
You beat down with all your friends
Who you threaten not to tell anyone
Or you'll make sure that they can't

Poetry is for that loser
Whose slicing up their skin
Who you laugh at daily
Until they go and cut again

Poetry is for those losers
Who won't eat a single bite
Because you always call them a "******"
And they cry through the hunger at night

Poetry is for that loser
Who always makes straight A's
Whose homework you steal and shred
Until they can't salvage their grade

Poetry is for that loser
The one that always cried
The one you least expected
To commit suicide

"Greedy girl," they whisper
For two was not enough.
I am not whole, with one more soul
I need two to give my trust.

Lovely trio of mine
I couldn't wish for more
Yet they call me a freak, "Love's for two, not three!"
They mutter that I'm a *****.

I'm not jealous or undecided
I'm not cheating and it's not abuse
Just because you've never doesn't mean three isn't better
For one who is not confused.

"Perhaps this is a phase,"
"No-one in their right mind would wish
For three or for four, how about two, who needs more?"
They all think just like this.

But I am polyamorous
My partners are in the plural
And we love equally, it doesn't matter that we're three
Our relationship breaks no ethic or moral.

So judge as you will
Judge as you please
I am proud of my *** and sexualities
And it's polyamory for me.

I'm that pretty kitty
Sitting on your windowsill
Leaving dander on the glass
Looking more than my fill

My fur is brown and black
My claws are sharp as knives
My teeth are quite sinister
And I've still all nine lives

You've never paid me much attention
And I ceased attempts to receive it long ago
You go about your day ignoring me
And I stare covetously through the window

I know you can see me
Every blue moon, you'll wave
We actually get along in a way
But not enough to sate all I crave

I wonder if you'll ever notice
My stare is unadulterated jealousy
But you never seem to notice
I also envy that naivety

But I'm just the pretty kitty
Perched up on this windowsill
All I want is to be seen from inside
But no one ever will

I've only eyes for the inside though
I've got my friends on this side of the glass
And they look at me, bemused and disgusted
Because, in all ways and forms, I'm obsessed

But I'm different and I'm on the wrong side
And I'm just the pretty kitty on the windowsill
But I'm not comfortable with my own kind
And with yours, I'm just good for visual appeal

So I'll sit here on this windowsill
Gazing enviously
Because neither side fits me
But it fits them perfectly

Pretty little people
With pretty little plans
And pretty little laughs
Behind pretty little hands

Ugly old *****
Laughing at what they said
Smiling so happily
Wishing them all dead

Pretty little people
With pretty little secrets
They confide in the ugly old *****
So sure that she'll keep it

Ugly old *****
Hateful and jealous
She wants let it go
But she's too lonely to tell it

Pretty little people
With their ******* pretty smiles
Pretty little people
Laughing all the while

Pretty little people
With endless self-esteem
Pretty little people
With pretty little dreams

Ugly old *****
Trying to be real
Ugly old *****
Don't know what to feel

Ugly old *****
Snapping at the seams
Ugly old *****
And yes, that ***** is me

You said I just want attention
Just want to be Queen for a day
That I always had to be in control
Always had to have it my way

Well, welcome to my palace peasant
Kneel down and kiss my feet
I don't need you anymore
But you sure as hell need me

And the Queen will rule her people, under her they shall be free
Let the traitors scatter and flee or die with her next decree

Welcome to my palace
I only love my own
And if you plan to leave
I'll be happy when you're gone

The people of my kingdom
Are the air in my lungs
But should they turn on me
I'll cut them down and breathe the sun

The leaders under my reign, may one day want my throne
Express your envy nobly and I'll nobly cut you down

My successor will be ethereal
And lead my people with pride
All against my reign
Kindly, step aside

For I am the Queen!
I am the leader!
My traitorous little minion....

You were lucky to be here.

Don't take me places
You know we can't go
I'll want to stay
You'll raise my hopes

I'm crushed by disappointment
I'm sick of seeing possibility
I'm sick of being told
"Don't want everything you see"

I'm willing to use some effort
To reach the highest slopes
But you won't even consider
So please don't raise my hopes

I'm fragile, I swear I am
I can't handle too many falls
I can't take to much hope
So don't raise mine at all

I can't seem to correctly explain
Just how hope can stab me through
Because I fight to be pessimistic
But when hope joins the fight, I lose

When I lose, I see options
I see every possibility
I see everything you won't
I see everything I need

I could idealize anyplace
If it so appealed to my hope
But I'll always be let down
I've grown used to these old ropes

So leave me be, I don't care
This is a downward, spiraling *****
And you must be a sadist, this is torture
Please, don't raise my hopes.

Craving interaction
Some sort of relationship
But never finding much
In this caricature of happiness

Lost but still searching
Considering the end
Yet never reaching finality
Without the needed confidence

Ragged cries of 'Help'
So scared, so lonely
Would give anything for a friend
Without the shallow ceremony

Please, help
Loss of common sense
People just aren't worth the effort
The fog of failure is so dense

Realizations in blue ink
Revelations written red
Hopes and dreams in yellow
Lay down and go to bed

Assumptions in bright orange
Bitter feelings written green
Colour scars these pages
Accented in screams

Vibrant hues straight from the vein
And onto the perception of reality
Force the depression down again
Let the façade run free

This isn't life at all
This isn't what should be
Colour scars these pages
The shades of insanity

Reaching out for help
And latching to an apparition
And
              Falling
                                Falling
  ­                                               Falling
                                                         ­          Fading from existence
                                                       ­           
                                                                ­   Hopeless desperation
                                                     ­              Quiet loneliness
                                                      ­             Stark disappointment
                                                  ­                 Life shouldn't be like this
                                                            ­        
                                                        ­           Whispers in the dark
                                                            ­       Of what the end could mean
                                                            ­       Careful consideration
                                                   ­                Let the colour bleed
                                                                ­  
                                                                ­   Hatred marked in violet
                                                          ­         Pain in large steaks of white
                                                           ­        Final blue-inked realizations
                                                    ­               Goodbye and goodnight

I can almost imagine how red you get
At some of the things I've said.
The way you fumble for words and
Get flustered, it's adorable, my favorite.

It's the tiny explosions of tingles
That erupt in my spine, legs, and chest
The words you say-- I can't respond--
They're cloying, saccharine, my favorite.

We'd both argue we're better, more apt than.
(You win, this time, whatever, I guess)
Got to have this competition, got to have the race
It's revitalizing, livening, my favorite.

I'd ignore a comedy to hear your laugh
It's contagious, it always brings me with.
I'm a buffoon for a single chuckle
It's addictive, amazing, my favorite.

And it could be silence that wraps around me
And it could be that razor sharp, sassy wit.
It could be questions and answers and information
But it's you foremost, so lovely, my favorite.

Vertigo.

The world is turning.

Turning.
                 Turning.
                                  Turning,
Too fast.

Turning until
A rip forms.

A tear. A lesion. An open wound.

Raw.

Don't touch.
Don't look.
Don't speak.
Don't hear.
Don't smell.
Don't feel.


it hurts.

Thoughts come then.
Too loud, too quiet.
Too bright; so, so dark.
.
     .
          .
               help.

No help.
.
     .
          .
               help.
No help.
.
     .
          .
               help.
Helped.

Boxes.
Boxes and boxes and boxes.

A library of thought and feeling packed away
In
One


second.




Peace.
Calm.
Joy.


False emotion.
Easy breathing, easy living.

Compartmentalized.
Strike-through.

Recompartmentalize­d.






Lather, rinse, repeat.

I bleed like any other human
It's still a novelty to me.
When a knife kisses my wrists
And cries red streams.

I'm intrigued by the sight of it
Bright, crimson lines.
That tingle ice up my arms
And down through my spine.

It looks like freedom.
Like drops of life on the bathroom floor.
It feels like liberation.
When I'm done the blade cries, "More."

It smells like failure.
Like the copper tang of lies.
It smells like promises.
Smells like the words, "I'll try."

It sounds like a hospital.
The sound of my mind eating itself.
It sounds like a diagnosis.
Like the crackle of a bottle of pills.

The skin on my inner left forearm
Is puckered, aching, and irritated.
There are fifty-two raised lines there
That I've carefully counted.

There are thirty paper towels in the bin
That are stained red and pink.
The knife in the cabinet and the counter
Have been freshly scrubbed clean.

I am not unhappy.
I have no reason to do this.
I have no excuses to give.
I just want to see red.

Tick* goes the clock
I think a thousand thoughts
Before it can chime tock

Don't smoke, I thought you stopped
Don't be sad, I know you're not
Don't cut , or at least, not a lot

Tick says the clock.

Three seconds have gone by
"Is the day over?" I sigh
I can't last but I'll try
Eight cuts on my thigh

tock chimes the clock

My lungs, they burn
My brain begins to yearn
I won't give in, I'll live and learn

TICK yells the clock

Time is so loud and slow
I can't take much more
I need help but you'll never know

TOCK! The clock screams

It's in my brain
I can't shake it loose
I'm losing my rhyme
My speech becomes uncouth

TICK

There are voices in the background
I cannot abide them
I hate it, I hate sounds

TOCK

Just one cut
Won't be too much
Right? Right!?

tick...

And the vertigo recedes
Suddenly, I can think
And time doesn't pass slowly

tock...

Perhaps I shall smoke
Until I die
And at my funeral, no one will cry

Tick...

The day's almost over
I've done pitiful little
Yet my nerves are run brittle

Tock

"Not again!" I beg
I can't take this
And, looking at my knife,
I am hopeless

tick-tock Tick-Tock TICK-TOCK *TICK-TOCK!

When my bones and joints creak
When my voice can barely leave my throat
When my head aches for hours on end
When I need more and more sleep

When creativity is a chore
When I'm too jaded for the word "love"
When success feels like an if
When fun isn't fun anymore

These are just little reminders
Life's way of warning me
I don't have all the time in the world
Even though I don't know what to reach for

Just those little signs
That whisper, "you're getting older"
Just enough to bring me down
And remember the hands of time.

We are rotten now.
You are rotten, moldy, putrid with disease.
I'll separate my pristine state from you.
Get the **** away from me.

You are rotten now.
You are contagiously, disgustingly rotten.
I'll pretend there's still some use in you,
Throw you in the compost, forgotten.

You are a memory.
Overripe, painful, noxious.
You were a part of me.
Infecting, stinking, rancid.

This is my goodbye to you
This is the routine compost.
This is how I say, "We're through,"
This is how I let you go.

I'm not one for second place
In life or love or existence as a whole.
If I'm not going to win
The game seems impossibly dull.

I don't care.

In second place, silver trophy in hand
I don't care to speak to you.
I don't care about your issues; I have my own.
And every word you speak is still cruel.

But I can't be hurt when I don't care
And pretending's never been a hardship.
But come the end of this year
I'll rescind back into the behavior of a hermit.

I'm not one to be thought of as a runner up.
I've loved and lost my motivation to speak.
I'm not looking for a new reason.
It's first place or no place for me.

Here
Doing this
With you
Silence

I am satisfied.

Music
Noises
Calm violence
Hazy sense

I am satisfied.

Little laughs
Large smiles
Floating
Buoyancy

I am satisfied.

Peace
Unhindered
Uninhibited
Intrigue

I am satisfied.

At the very least, I am aware of my regression
I find myself grasping for the pillars of my past
To ground me in the torrential rains and floods

I reached for a cigarette and it fixed nothing at all
I reached for the knife and it settled me for a moment
I reached for the religion that alienated me and my family

Within the music I used to listen to I found peace.
I found tears I hadn't realized I needed to shed.
And though the teachings are still to raw to read
I latched to the pillar of religion and it once calmed me.

She's not done anything to me
And yet I'm as jealous as jealous can be

He's never said a word out of place
He's completely undeserving of this hate

They've never laughed at my hair
Or giggled at the clothes I wear

So why am I mad?
Running with wounds new and raw
It's time to see the truth
And shake it off

Shake off the funk
And years of gunk

Shake it off

Get rid of the ***** laundry
It's time to stop wandering

Shake it off

This is a new life
Smile and wave

This is your right, hold it close
The smile on your face

The joy in your eyes

The peace in your mind

It's all yours
So gather up the bad
And shake it off

She will be searching for people
To keep at her side for the rest of her life.

She won't find any of these people
In her head, but that's where they thrive.

She will be searching until she finds
Beauty in the deepest of senses, in the best of ways.

She will be disappointed, come up empty handed
For the rest of her days.

She is evolving, has evolved, evolves right now
She sunk lower than before and soared straight up from the ground
She is who she was but she is also someone never before seen
She is and was evolving towards bigger, higher things.

She may land harshly and come to a gruesome, quick end
But the flight has always mattered more than the descent.
She may soar higher until her wings incinerate to dust
But she will evolve whether down on land or up.

She is evolving, call it a lifelong effort to transform
She's been becoming who she'll be since the day she was born.
She'll put in her all whether she receives failure or success
And she will evolve until she until she finally takes her rest.

She is beauty
Resplendent by her own right
And I cannot look away

Her light burns my eyes
So pure and yet so pained
Yet I cannot look away

She is an amalgamation of emotion
She is a tornado; uncontrollable
She is a force of nature

I cannot look away.

She is moonlight
Soft and unobtrusive
Effulgent yet sombre

I would like to have her
I would like to hold her
I would like to comfort her

I would like to catch the opalescent liquid sorrow
And let it evaporate into the air
And see her healed

You don't ship it like I do
In my spare time (all the time)
Instead of paying attention.
You're not as much of a fan as I am
You say I'm obsessed
I call it infatuation.

You can't fill the hole in yourself
Without a ship but you'd rather not
So you can shy away from shipping
I'm on a ******* yacht.
You don't understand the calling
Which is, basically, at this point, normality
And thus, I have no need for you
Go be a carbon copy.

But I will sail!
I will go down with this ship!
(**** tumblr to hell
For spoiling my ****!)
But sail, I will, even still.
Oh, in my battleship
I'll rip your OTP!
My ship is stronger
My ship is closer to canon in reality!
So yes, your pairing, I will shred, I'll rip.

You never cease to surprise me
I'm always entertained
And through your constant shock value
You always slip away

See, what's mine is what I keep
It never leaves my sight
But in a moment of pure surprise
In a manner so mild, so trite

You break my expectations
You twist away from me
This is the longest I've kept pursuit
This is how pursuit should be!

Craving, chasing, courting
Salivating when victory draws near
Elusive, evading, ensnaring
An exquisite prey of no fear.

This is a game!
This is how life should be!
And the best of the best is that
No-one's playing but me!

You don't see the board
But I see every piece
And yet you lead me and dupe me
In a game never to cease.

Oh that I could continue forever
With you, I'd never tire
And you'd work me down to bones
And I'd beg you, "Take me higher"

May you never lose your shock value
You're never what I expect
And I'll forever be infatuated
With your difference from the rest.

It boggles the simple mind
That one such as you exists.

Adoration, Admiration, Awe, and Respect.

Like water through the deepest valley
Or snow on the highest peak
You exude creativity
So brilliantly bright and clean.

It baffles the simple soul
That one like you remains unknown.

Humility, Modesty, Understanding, Calm.

You're a quiet shock to the system
Of what society's expected
You're a reflection of a vision
Of a utopia unblemished.

Such a beautiful soul
That renders my own shocked
And society's freezing it cold
I need to make it stop.

This was a pursuit
This was my normal game
This is what shock is
I want to see you sane.

I'm heartless, without compassion
I'm a sucker for vulnerability
I'm a crow in her prime
And pain is so shiny.

You have company and, god, does she fit you
But you're still breaking, dear.
You're an old soul so tired and weary
But Earth still needs you here.

How dare Life chip at you?
How dare Life bring you down?
And you call yourself weak;
Taking the beating without a sound.

Have you never seen the inherent brightness
That rests just beyond your skin?
See your reflection in
And take your beauty in.

Because I can't comprehend
How you can't see yourself.
With your untainted imagination
When society's blinded by wealth.

I can't say I'm not like the rest
I can't say I differ at all.
But I have the eyes to see a miracle
So I can't let you fall.

You are an oddity of nature herself
That I wanted to capture, to chase.
And through your constant shock value
I now want to see you stay.

I'll never admit it
If only to spare my own
But somedays I run a knife across my wrist
When I'm alone.
I never break the skin
There's not a drop of blood
But I'm considering, thinking, 'maybe'
And that's normally enough.

But at the bottom of the barrel-
Where the sludge of Earth runs thick
Where I crafted my essence
Where I sometimes hit-
I don't want the knife
And I don't want a gun
I don't want a rope
I don't want to run.

I want to fall asleep.

I want to fall asleep
And simply fade away
And the world would never know me
That I'd gone or that I'd came.
I'd want to leave with a whisper
In the middle of a desert
Where no one is listening
So no one hears.

I'd like to fall asleep
And let it all end there.
There'd be no 'beyond life'
The be nothing, everywhere.
I'd like to simply fade away
As though I never eisted at all
I'd like to forget life and it, me
Like a friend I never called.

Sitting on my own but not necessarily alone
My mind roams and eats me down to blood and bones.
With eyes watery and wet though no tears have fallen yet
I set my jaw against the first tinglings of regret.

If I am hurting it will fade, without assistance from a blade
Box the guilt carefully away and place it back from where it came.
If I am unsteady I will find balance without a plea
And rely on no one but myself to help right me.

Sitting with memories and regrets and possibilities
Sitting with the jealousy and shame and the whole of me.
Making temporary peace with the little things if only to sleep
In full awareness that they still creep where my thoughts run deep.

Fake and pristine
Smile on my face
Tired and angry
The facade fades

It's a slow burn, my anger
A slow burn to conflagration
It's a slow burn, my anger
I'm done with expectations

I am dying.
As most are, I am unprepared.
I feel death tingle down my arms
And rob my struggling lungs of air.

I feel it settle over my mind like a haze
Of drowsy, unfocused wooziness.
I am terrified of it, I am scared
I can feel the cold grasp of death.


.


She hands me a bottle that clicks with magic
She tells me it's not much and I believe that.
She hands me a bottle after she checks me over.
I take the bottle and remove myself from where I sat.


.


I remind myself that I am not dying.
I remind myself that I can breath, am breathing.
I remind myself that I am not tingling.
I lie to myself factually: I am not dying.


.


I don't believe her or myself
If I were to believe, would that make me crazy?
If I weren't to believe, would that make me crazy?
If I am cleared headed yet somehow feel hazy?

**** this lazy rhyme in off kilter four four time:
Am I crazy if I feel my lungs fight for air though I have no problem breathing?
What if I feel my body shutting down when I am more than healthy?
Am I crazy if I know it's the end but can't explain or even postulate why?
Am I crazy if I write so someone knows what happened when I die (whilst thinking I am alive I wont die but I am dying which is just the panic speaking but if it's not then I'll be gone  by tomorrow which wont happen. maybe.)?

Society is a clay mold
Taking every newborn into its fold
Kissing each brow with insecurity, shame
Releasing it's victims, carbon-copies, all the same

Society is a line graph's *****
Plotting point ever upwards in hope
Shunning those who are different, who fight
Loving only those who are "normal", all outliers denied

Society is a disease, nipping at the soul
Filing and wearing down on the young and old
Breaking every innocent into a pessimistic, jaded mess
Rending, tearing, stomping, destroying whatever is left

"I'm sorry"'s and "forgive me"'s
Never rang less true.
I'd rather forget those I can't latch to.

There wasn't a dynamic, it's not intrigue
I wrapped myself up in your harsh words
Because I wanted to bleed.

If I could analyze this feeling
I'd say there's no feeling here at all,
That you were a passing fling.

I'm sorry that I'm not sorry for this
I don't have friends, you're not an exception
Just another number on a long, long list.

I see a galaxy of useless things
That I've set aside time to worship.
Bags of organs, blood, and meat.

If the boredom wasn't quite so intense.
If you could have pinned me down.
If you could have held my attention.

If I cared more for you, if I cared for you at all.
If I never got tired of your words.
If I never grew weary of answering your calls.

Would I respond better to commands?
-I have my theories on myself-
Would I thrive with my decisions in your hands?

If I cared for anything.
If I could feel more than amusement.
If I was less unsettling.

If I could curb the violence.
If I could put in the effort.
If my comfort wasn't found in silence.

If.
If.
If.

If I could remember artistry.
If I could fill these words with meanings.
Alas; sociopathy.


Insanity