I don't care thats the thing. I cant take it anymore.

You don't know what its like with Jimmy in my head slowly taking over.
I cant, every peaceful moment is taken up by Jimmy and he is winning.

"I should have realised earlier"
"I can't have you running round like that"
"please do me a favour and just do It" he does that all the time.

Thats why I don't sleep.

I can't be strong anymore.
Doesn't anyone ******* understand.
I'm only so strong and right now  I have to fight myself.
I cant win this fight.

It will destroy me.
I have no strength anymore. If I take anymore I will crumble and lose the fight.

I will not need sleep until reality becomes too much to handle.

Until my demons become too much to deal with,
I will stay awake.

When they become too much,
I will sleep
And embrace then in my dreams,
Like my long lost friends.

I'm not weak.
I will never be weak.
You will only see me cry when I've been truly broken.
You will only see me weak when I have nothing to fight for.

You will only see me weak when I am at the point of giving upall I have become. And crawling away like a dog to wait for death.
Its okay,  

But I don't like being called weak,

I rose from my Ashes to become reborn. A phoenix,
If you would like,
Of chaos and rage,
Void and darkness,
With glimmer of red

To live and not to breathe, is to die in tragedy.

Is the same as to love and not feel.
Without love, whilst being in love, to die alone.
Without hope, without a smile on your lips.

Without the one person that you have loved your entire life since the day you met them.

To die in tragedy,
Is to die without wiping her tears away with your thumb as you cheer her up after she's had a bad day.
Is to never put that one strand of hair behind her ear and smile into her beautiful eyes.
Is to die without telling her that you love her everyday.

Is to die without the chance to make her happy

I play guitar,
I play punk rock, and pop punk.

Sometimes people cause arguments with me. I fight back.

This time someone was insulting my little sister, trying it on my sister. I found him holding her in the back alley. I took my guitar and blam.
No more guitar,

It's four am. I'm passed out in an alley somewhere, covered in blood, is it mine?
I dip a finger in and test.
Yes it's mine. Some of it is anyway.

I feel around and find that there's a stab wound in my side.

Blood slowly oozing from the puncture,
I'm lucky it didn't hit an artery.
I look around.

There's the little **** who hit my sister! Who tried to... Tried to... He isn't moving! ****! There's more blood on him!

I lurch forward towards him, he's dead.
Throat slit by the guitar strings.
I move around.

The neck of the guitar is still embedded in my side. Stemming the flow of blood.
I stand I look for my little sister,


I don't see her! Where is she!?

I start running, everything goes red.
I round a corner. There's my sister.

She's fine.... She's fine... Thank God

In the running the guitar neck fell from my side,
Blood pours from the wound. There's an ambulance.

"I love you sister, don't you ever let them hurt you"

I write this thinking about the girl I love, stood out in the pouring rain.

A tear rolls down my cheek as I type away on my phone.
This pathetic fallacy makes me smile,
for the dreadful irony

I sit in my perfect elysium,
A beautiful world, full of happy faces.

I dream of my perfect life here in paradise,
I look around at the happy faces,
Of people drinking tea and children laughing.

I look around and see them in this life of pandemonium.
I see the red puddles on the floor, the uneaten food, the scavenging vultures and the families.

And I smile,
At least they're happy. At least they are with their families.

With their slashed open faces to create leering twisted smirks of the living undead. With piles of rotten corpses and tortured survivors.

With the cries and cruel laughter of the children of my underworld.
Standing with shadows and blunt blades,
Awaiting the chance to shed blood.

It looks like they fell down the wrong rabbit hole.

One does wonder how they are still falling,
Visiting the beautiful Alice, with her chest ripped apart and flesh hanging from her wounds.

But then again,

Wonderland has never been so pretty has it my dear Alice