Intestines twisted into a bow
Skeleton, no skin, all bone
Chased into a grave
By someone "brave"

Head cut off, and hung at the hips
Mouth sewn shut, wires in the lips
Promised a voice
In a place of just "noise"

Ears forced down into the pharnyx
Tongue cut off, and swallowed
Chained to the dark
Left with a "spark"

Wasabi poured into each eye
Needles poked into the iris, to dry
Breathing fractured breaths
In the times of "stress"

Fingers shredded in blenders
Toes were sold by the vendors
Broke the rules
To be reduced to mere "molecules"

Heart frozen in ice
Lungs cracked in slices with a knife
Crawling towards a light
Dipped in "fright"

Genitalia, mutilated
Thighs and chest burned til it was disseminated  
Walking into the darkness
Trying to reach the "conconscious"

Frigida glacies

Cries ring out around the room.
Beg me once more. I will not stoop.
The shelter is crumbling. Walls turning pink.
Windows fogging up, the gas has leaked.
Trembling hands reach, no satisfaction is given.
The argyle rug we live on is frayed. Rat bones
pile in the corners.

Starvation came and went.

Matted hair is stretched with the fingers.
Plucking and prodding. Dirtied face,
green as the curtains. Pressing deeper
into the walls. The next course is served.

A dead dream, warts, rotted meat.

The others fight for the meat. I rip a
piece of the dream. Bring a finger
to the lips and shush. The dream stops
screaming. Blue skies and honeyed words
capture. Fading into the carpet, resting
my head on the bones. A scratch strikes
the entrance. Silence. Screech. Hiss.
Silence. We open the door, then close it.

It is not an exit after all.

The girl to my left, blinks at me.
I tell her no, not yet. I will wait
for the exit. She blinks once more.
We just have to wait for it. Glazed
eyes meet mine. She crumbles.

The next course has been served.

Pigment caked under my nails.
Tasting the metallic remnants of a lost childhood.
The reality is hidden in visions and supposed dreams.
Fed to me, was the comforting hugs of mother and soothing lies.
Grew up in the age of paid horror.

A new appendage is cheaper than keeping the original.
Marked by the price of my body.
Each fall, subtracting, each workout, adding.
Beauty is a curse nowadays.
Each beautiful child is raised and sold for millions.
Each ugly child prays to be one of the lucky to receive the new parts.

Greedy families hope for attractive offspring,
to disassemble for a new future.
A pair of brilliant green eyes can change your luck.
Having blue eyes guarantees you to be blind.
Leaving you with shades to cover the hollow left behind.

Adults will tell you sports lead to a promising future.
But they don’t tell you that it’ll lead you to losing your body.
Self-harm is a death sentence. A cut drops your value.
It forces you into the career of taking.       Taking the beauty from the beautiful.
Cutting a limb or two won’t hurt them. Taking an eye is just life.
Tell yourself they should know better. They should’ve expected it.
Expect the unexpected when you are beautiful. Expect a life of pain.
Expect misery and lose those emotions when you are ugly. You won’t need that conscience.

Forget about the forgotten already. Use that arm to grab a new leg.
Use your head to get a better one.
Use your emptiness to end others. They won’t need that life.
And don’t forget, to use your misery.
The more miserable you are, the better off the world is when you end it.

Where there once was children catching frogs
in their hands, playing in the rivers dividing the sites,
or trying to convince the camp staff to give
them the branches they are attempting to clear,

There is now only her.

In the bright sun, doused in it’s heat,
her body shrivels in her wheelchair.
I step forward. She doesn’t move.
Her head falls forward. I scoop it up.
Hair lifting from the scalp, slipping away
between the webbing of my fingers.
I place a pillow behind her head and lay it back.

She snuggles into the blankets.

Pills fall into my palm; Red capsules, tiny whites,
chalky blues, and pinks with dust. Carving craters
into my lifelines. I place them on her bedside table.
She asks me to sort them. I throw them at the wall.
Two dozen stick, her mouth falls open, I scrape
them off and pour them in. Her teeth chew
and her tongue savors, I offer water. She sips,
it piles into the stomach. Bulging. I drain it
with a needle. It spills from the sky. The wind catches.

Tornado sirens blare across the grounds.

A scream cuts through my vocal cords.
I stand on the other side of the bridge.
Mud cakes the wheels of her chair. Her voice carries
before falling halfway across the slick surface.
A crack strikes the sky. The frogs beg me to go
inside. The wind cuts the skin. My vocal cords
rip and struggle against the storm. They fly
into the eye. The tips of my fingers catch before
they disappear. She smiles, her eyes slide closed.

A strike crumbles the bridge.

Hushed singing surrounds me
Rhythmic waves of sunsets and campfires in the form of notes
A small blue blanket is wrapped around my tiny, fragile body
Watching as the whiskey scented breath, escapes my father
While he rocks me, singing,
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word
Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird won’t sing,
Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring”
A deep smile rests on his gentle face
Proud of the child in his arms
I close my eyes, as I drift to sleep
Secure, and protected in the warm colors of honey and citrus fruit

When I wake
14 years later
My father sings a different song,
His breath sober, and clean after years of addiction
but his words are sharp, and jagged
Red fires, and black holes now make up the notes
He sings to me while I defend,
“It’s criminal,
There ought to be a law,
Criminal”
He twists the lyrics to fit his meaning
He fights to fit what he’s feeling
My identity left him screaming at me to leave
I close my eyes,
Afraid, and broken in a pit of flames and dark ideas

When I wake,
My voice is hoarse, and gray
My father started drinking again after 10 years of sobriety
All because of my identity
I sing softly to myself,
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word
Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird won’t sing
Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring”
I wrap a blanket of cold air and tears around my body
Swirls of broken mirrors and empty bottles surround my head
As the memories of when my father used to drink come to mind
The reality hits
the past has become the present
And I close my eyes once again

Strip me bare of my insecurities
Lay a breath of cold air upon the chest I hide from all
Stripped of my shield
I sit vulnerable and scared
The galaxies and black holes,
That makes up my mind,
Widen with each word

Hopeful feelings lay in spots on my stomach and arms
Spots that have healed
But not left me
Dreams of acceptance and confidence
Have since become the shattered pieces of my bathroom mirror
The same mirror that makes me remember
All the ways my identity is fractured

Like the black holes in my eyes
There is a mystery to me
I believe that I am bad
I believe that who I am is disastrous to those around me
Yet what is an identity without such beliefs
Perhaps a good one

Colorful feelings, followed by dark and grey
That’s what you see when you strip everything away
Bones cracking from the pressure of being so conflicted
Signs of ripping as the heart tries to follow what it desires
The head, bleeding, as the pain of resisting grows

Cannot be me,
Give me back my insecurities
Give me back the bindings
Give me back my shield
Give me back my dark feelings and let me bleed
I can hold up fine
It is only my identity I am hiding
But we all know this is just a lie

I woke up this morning
And when I felt stomach pain
I hoped my kidneys were failing

When I went to sleep last night
I had hoped that would be the last time
I would have to close my eyes

I rewrote all my letters
Slid them into their envelopes
And sealed them

I cleaned up my room
And thought about what people would think
About the quotes and art on my wall

I gave up on
keeping track of how many times
I swallowed those white pills

I walked through my brother’s room
Looking at the facades
he so carefully tacked on his walls

When I woke up this morning
I just laid back down
When I realized I was still alive

I can’t even manage
To properly **** myself
****, I’m pathetic

As I rode my bike this morning
I looked up at the stars
And I started to tear up

All I could see
Was an empty sky
The stars have become static

I wish I hadn’t woken up this morning

I'm a cannibal, consuming the flesh of my past
Taking back what was once attached
I'm not going to be the submissive, quiet kid I used to be
I've grown and I'm stronger now, you can't control me

I'm not a victim of your stupidity to get a laugh and some masculinity
I've been busy, and I'm not looking for sympathy
Your hands will never touch me again
You will not get under my skin

I hear things are going well for you, Joey
But your mom and her protection can't stop you from growing lonely
The more people you hurt, the worse it gets for you
That guilt will one day run you through

Tyler, you were always way too protected, with your mom being a teacher at school
And you always thought you were so cool with your copy of the schools keys, you used to "rule"
I could never seem to escape you, but now you are on your own
And you should have known that someday someone would pull the rug out from under your throne

You were so mighty, Nick, with a mom to go handle all your problems
And you certainly took advantage when you were filled with all that self-importance
And when your mom asked where you were, you lied and said it was my fault
Because I just really wanted to add to my list of tramua's ****** assualt

I wasn't cute, I wasn't charming, I wasn't overly girly, but I was weak and "easy"
Of course it's easy to overpower someone if you are big and sneaky
I never had someone to protect me, like Nick, Tyler, and Joey's moms
And I never had someone who'd believe me when I finally took down my walls

I was always different from the other kids, and family wasn't going to help
Who would believe me, over a popular straight A student; for me it was a dead end
No one believes me, I am not good enough, not important enough, to be given attention
But I won't stop working, trying to prove myself, until I am seen as good enough, without question

I am not anyone's plaything anymore, I am my own person
I am not an outlet for your sick *******
I am a being with thoughts and I'm not as easy to control as I used to be
I will bring you down with me

I sit upon a pedestal
My obsession with attention is rooted deep
So deep, that it doesn't appear to you

My pedestal draped in black cloth
Never stands out
You only notice it when you are too far in

My narcissism lines my insides
And so does my habit of manipulation
It runs it’s mouth 70% of the time

And I wish it didn’t
It’s hurting my look
Of being “too kind for my own good”

I’m deceptive, like I said
It’s in my nature
So don’t be surprised if you get your heart broken

I am shaking
Fearful, as the shouts grow louder
Every breath leaves me aching
The hourglass has begun to fall slower and slower by the hour

Reality has crumbled into mere dust sliding through my fingers
Wordless, soundless, screaming
Avoiding the empty, shattered mirrors
Left to pace between thoughts, as my hands do the cleaning

I cut my arms on glass, but I'm not seeing the bleeding
Dripping down my arms from my veins are jokes gone wrong
Sitting, in the glass poured over me, I'm leaping
It won't be too long

I've done a bad thing and I can't be forgiven
I am smiling at the spots in my vision that look like stars
I'm dancing, swaying, to an unknown etheral rthym
The whispers are seeping through my gray walls

Words have become a mush of meaningless *******
I hear the floors loosen and soon I am falling through
Ego tandem videre stellas
Ad astra per aspera

My father's stony face
Gripped with expressionless, death
He just stares at me
And I tear back

The dirt feels too hard
The world, too cold
I'm saying sorry
But everything just feels wrong

I'm grieving for him
But it's not him who's dead
It's me

Dribbling down the sides of my head
It drops clear
And drips red

Drop
Scream
Drip
Cry

Rippling waves of rejections
Then self corrections

Don’t try to make sense of the process
It’s nonsensical filled with paradoxical decisions

Just let me bleed H20

Walk into the room
Daylight is streaming in through the windows and onto the wood flooring
Blue armchairs line the walls
A chess match is set up and being played by two boys
Both kid’s arms are lined with marks
One from burns, the other from cuts

A young boy with curly hair waves me over to him
He has few scars and a softer vibe which makes me approach him
A kid with a buzzcut walks over to us as we chat
And asks why I’m here
Topple over my words like he asked what kind of kinks I’m into
I go with something like compression? Suppression? Oh right, Depression

Soon, I have my story of how I got there, what I’ve done, what *****, etc
And I’m learning that buzzcut kid was locked in his basement for days by mom
We compare abuse and suicide notes
I asked him why he’s here
He just laughed and said, “I tried to overdose. I wanted to shoot myself, but I didn’t want to waste a bullet on myself.” Miss that kid.

I’d been there about a day, before I met “Texas”
A big 5’8, dude, with glasses and some blue plaid Pyjamas
He was loud, obnoxious, but loyal, and open to talk about our issues
I was very outspoken about being trans at the time
And he was a curious man, so he always asked questions
Which I wasn’t always chill with

He was very curious about “If I still had a ******” or “If I was planning on getting testosterone”
Which I still tried to answer, but I wasn’t excited about it
He became protective of me, when we became friends
I was a very open minded dude, with a similar personality
So we clicked alright, and he helped me fight for my own rights in inpatient
He was a good guy, despite his bad qualities

And then it was only later on in that first night, that I met...well...
I’ll call him Josh, like drake and Josh, cause that’s who he always reminded me of
Josh was the only other trans guy there, who I actually didn’t know was trans
And unfortunately but understandably, he wasn’t as open with sharing as I was
He later became my roommate, before having the what we called, “The Josh-Down”
He transferred rooms and then hospitals not long after the Josh-Down

There was something about the morning’s there
Walking into the dayroom, sunlight streaming in,
Breakfast cart full and ready to be passed out
The tv on, and cartoons being shown on screen
Kids half awake, and staff barking orders
The chaotic peacefulness was always my favorite thing

I get flashes of the hospital from time to time
Like now, as I walk into a classroom with other people
For a second, I’m walking into that room again,
Buzzcut and the kid with a soft vibe are waving at me
I feel the sun streaming in from the window on my the side of my face
And the corners of my mouth curl upwards

Turn to look at the sun, and when I look back, it’s just a slowly filling classroom
I was one of the lucky few, to survive
I got to stay at my school, and I’m alive, I have a home
At least three kids from the hospital either ran away or are on the run
Two are homeless
And I can only guess for the rest

The people/kids I met in that hospital, changed me
They changed my perspective on life itself
I don’t talk about it, but the people I met, showed me another side of the world
The side no one talks about
The side where kids have scars, burns, bruises, and more
The side where kids have traumas, disorders, and urges

The hospital is a hush hush subject
But it shouldn’t be
It changed my life, and continues to impact me everyday
It’s a place to heal and grow
It’s a place where kids can get a chance at getting better
Get a chance at seeing that sunlight

What's next?
A **** test?
Why do we do this?
God, the things I miss

I used to see beautiful colours every time we met
Now all I see is an edge
Why did it have to end like this?
I yearn for one more kiss

What happened to us?
Your words still leave me with cuts
I'm sorry
The sky reminds me of you, so starry

Everything reminds me of you
That's true
I wish I could just let go
Say adios

But no
You keep coming to my head to steal the show
I cry tears of grief
Every night so the pain will ease

Try to make it up to you
But you say we are through
I'm trying to mend things
Let us try to spread our wings

You will of course refuse
I always lose
You are the king
and I, nothing

I'm losing my mind
A part of me has died
I stand on an edge
Ready to be led

I climb over the rail
God, why did I fail
I close my eyes
I'm sorry for all the lies

I say goodbye
I'm sorry I was so sly
I take a step
Why are you still in my head

I'm plunging towards the water
The sounds of your voice grow stronger
I rushing to my death
This was the test

Thank god
I am dead

Wrapped in metal wire
Jagged edges keep me contained
I intend to fly higher
But I’ve been drained

I’m stuck on the ground
String wrapped around your arm
I’m being drowned
Within an emotional storm

Your tears bring me down
And hope gives me nightmares
Let me go without a frown
Only set free with new mindsets

Just a balloon wrapped in a razor blades
And barbed wire

Obsessively thinking, about thinking
I'm thinking the thoughts in my head, were placed there.
Something is wrong with the part of my brain that does the linking.
The seams that were made when my last therapist took out my brain, are starting to tear.

I'm lost in the flow of my words. Planted words.
Am I losing my mind? I can't lose it a second time.
The verbs I produced, destroy me, with slicing, and dicing.
And the rhyming, has turned into pantomime.

What were the words I spoke minutes ago?
Have they even taken my memory?
A part of me doesn't want to know.
But this is different, this is treachery.

Stolen thoughts, stolen memories, stolen words.
Am I the "crazy" that everyone imagines?
My mind keeps getting split, halves, now thirds.
I think the diagnois matches.

I guess I was meant to be crazy.

Wrists
Childish wrists
Soft and white
Aside from a few lines

Wrists
Scarred and rough
Raised along different points of the wrist
Hundreds of lines on this one
Old lines

Wrists
Bruises from a tight grip
Soft little lines
Not noticeable to anyone
but the wrist

Wrists
Teary wrists
Cried into often
Soft and pale

Wrists
Everywhere
On everyone
Yet no one notices
The little signs

)

I knew if I said too much
This would happen
I should have known
And not gotten so close

He is like a flame
And I, a moth
I keep coming back
Except this time I was really burned

I want to go back though
Say it was all *******
And I made it up
Ask for forgiveness

But I know I can’t
I know why I’ve been feeling this sinking feeling
In my stomach every time I thought about him
My mind warned me

But I didn’t listen
Like a moth to a flame
I kept going back
I couldn’t help myself

I wish I listened
I wished I stopped,
Cold turkey
But he’s addicting

And I’ve already burnt
My wings to a crisp
I can’t fly away
I’m stuck here

Left to defend
Against the unwanted thoughts
And the ultimate betrayal,
He has displayed

I won’t go back, I can’t
But I might
He still is a flame
And I, a moth

I’ve been so depressing
I’m making people worried
I’m merely expressing
And people don’t agree with what I’ve perceived

I’m seeing forgotten backpacks in the streets
And nooses being sold for a $1 each
But people don’t see the teens committing these deeds
They only ever see what’s on their feed

Listen, I’m just a teen, it’s true
I’ve got a backpack just like you
But I’ve been seeing the clues
And I’m not in line with letting kids die blue

I’m telling you, everyone’s gone blind
And you need to open your eyes
It’s time to be revived
So rise

It’s time to wake up

He must
Always be
So cold
Every outfit
Includes
Sleeves
And pant legs

He smiles
He jokes
But he doesn't
Always get close

Back lined
With
Bruises and cuts
Scars
And new marks
Unseen
Covered carefully
With fabrics
Mixed with
Disorders and stories

Raise a loaded gun to my head
Arms turn to lead
Laugh loud, eyes widen crazily
Dig the barrel into the side of my head hysterically

Sweat sticks to the palms
My finger inches toward the trigger
The cold dark metal cools my racing thoughts
I remember the taste of maple syrup for some reason as I pull closer to the trigger

Leave the sleepy bedroom scene in front of me,
behind me as I close my eyes
Take a cracked breath
Pull the trigger

Help. I am unfolding.
Becoming the vast ******* bin that is my mind.
U n f o l d i n g.

Chased by thoughts, memories, and obsessions that need to be gone.

G O N E. G O N E. G O N E. My logical side has left with my ability to cope.
They were cheating on my poor little brain with
Depression, OCD, Anxiety, Diet Bipolar, and the rest.

M  y     m  i  n  d     i  s     a     m  e  s  s

Every thought the same. Every idea, a mess.

I    a  m    a    w  r  e  c  k

**** me. The waves of icky thoughts stick to me like wet sand.
I have become a tragedy.   U N F O L D I N G

Spinning in thoughts, dancing with death.
I've started to roll the 6 sided die, to determine my fate.
I'm waltzing with death itself. Don't get jealous. But we've kissed once or twice.
Hundreds of notes, notes that go to the fiery flames, when I don't use them.
Boy the book I could've written, with my U N F O L D I N G notes.

Drown the child in the holy water
It must be a demon cause it struggles beneath the hand
It wants to live
Let it go limp
Dreamy pink and blue surrounds the child in the water
Watch as the light leaves it's eyes
And the colors fill it
At least now it won't ask so many questions

Open those cracked lips
And let out croaks and painful yelps

Drag that bruised and bloodied hand
Against the stained floorboards

Flinch into the boot in the ribs
And let those purple tears swell

Give a broken smile
As you speak misery to me

walking in a dark forest
Leaves crunch beneath my boots
the only sounds come from snapped twigs and fidgeting bodies
Along the tree line are staring eyes
People shifting occaisionly, not speaking
Just staring
They don’t break eye contact
Not once
I keep walking, holding myself tightly
Walking towards a light, but every step I take,
the more the staring gets to me
I try to ignore but then the whispering starts
And suddenly I’m getting chills
their eyes are cutting into me
Now I’m running
Crunching leaf sounds are behind me
As the whispering becomes defeaning
Covering, covering my ears
tears mix with grime
Breathing heavy
sprinting away from the whispers
Finding myself on smooth pavement
Heart beating rapidly but the whispers have stopped
Collapse onto the ground
in a pile of tears
But the stares are still there
just at the edge of the woods
Watching, emotionless.

Head cut off
Mouth ripped out
Left without a way to cough
Without a way to pout

Forced to keep quiet
By the rulers of the ears
No place to riot
People are running from their own fears

Officials hate a mess
People don’t like a lot of wrecks
So the only way is to suppress
At least in the eyes of the press

Watching you watch me is fascinating
I enjoy the feelings of your eyes on my skin
And your judgement on my mind


You hated me, now you are dating me
You were always so lame, now you’re just crazy
But I’m not running away


Take me away
Your vibes are killing me
And I’m enjoying that fun feeling


You called me digusting then you kissed me
Twofaced, in a beautiful way
I don’t mind being hated as long as it’s always you doing the hating


Your anger is dangerously intoxicating
Every flame is so warm and every tense moment so exciting
I never thought I’d fall for a killer like you, but look at me


Traveling a finger across your sharp edges
I’ve been getting shivers, and **** I’m quivering
You’re turning my universe inside out


Don’t worry now
That cut didn’t hurt me, nor those harsh words
It’s just a different kind of world than others

I feel over my glass body
Everyday

Looking for the cracks
I'm sure will show again one day

Don't get too close to people
What if they try to crack me

I run my hand over the last crack
Like the last time

I open up and people are nice for a while
But then they turn

They lash out at me
And their words leave cracks

Broken and afraid
I stay away

It happens again and again
And my glass body is far too cracked

It can't be helped if I have to stick alone
It's the way I must live

Last night I was low
Last night I was low.
Blow after blow,
I found a way to go
Down to the place below

Gather the rope of creation
Make the slipknot operation
Write a note to the nation
And say hello to liberation

Last night I was low
Low. Low. Low.
Ideas always glow
When you are so... Low

Trying to not be another statistic
But lets be realistic
I’ll be dead in a grave going ballistic
Trying to remember how to be optimistic

But I guess I’m just low.

It starts with curiosity
It starts with impulse

One cut here
One cut there

It wont get out of hand
I swear

Impulse continues
This awful addiction

You know it's wrong
So you cover it up

Bracelets
Long sleeves

Kiss swimming goodbye
You can't swim in long sleeves

The habit never ends
You know it's true

The pull is always there
Waiting for you

Choked out by the forces that make me scream
Face shoved into the dirt
Boot, between my shoulder blades
Exist in the perfect cacophny of crying and failed escapes

Dragging me into the rivers of salt lined water
Tears don't form when you are underwater
So drown the innocence out of me so I can't think past the smell of dirt
Cover my throat with a shirt, and wait for me to emerge

The sound of a snap, and a flash
I am trapped, kept from coming clean with a photograph
Curled into a ball, trapped in time
Bound in that awful grime

Listening to "Dance Hall Drug" realizing the meaning
And suddenly my head is bleeding
The clock has turned red, and I've lost my head in a guillotine
It's okay, just light a match and watch me disappear; I'm kerosene

I'm easy to control, with a photo
And I'm just an average depressed ****
Drowned into the person I should be
And I guess I am the best depressed verision of me, lost at sea

Clamate dolor

I'm a teenager with depression
And I'm starting to have a **** ton of aggression
People tell me to shut up
And then they wonder why we don't consult

Look, I hate myself
And you likely hate yourself
And that's the joy of being in a world
Where we all get burned

I got crinks in my neck
And a back that is a wreck
Working too hard
So colleges see me as being "smart"

I have a noose on my fan
And a gun I got from a man
I've started to fantasize about death
But I know all the paperwork will be a mess

People see a breakup
And say "oh just wake up"
When adults get into a breakup
They become vacant

Why is my pain any less
Just cause I don't have any debts yet
I'm a teenager with depression
And I'm starting to have a **** ton of aggression

I need security, like a hug that warms me
I can’t keep pretending not to be
I’m struggling to remember what made me better
Cause the words that I used to say seem like an error

The memory of the colonge “Invictus” still floats
His cologne always seemed to calm me during my episodes
But now I’m starting to wonder if that was even real
Anyday now someone will rip off the disguse and make the big reveal

Am I delusional or do I just need to stop obsessively obsessing about everything?
These thoughts don’t sound right and my futures looking grim
I’m chasing a feeling that doesn’t exist anymore
I’m trying to fight and serve in a fictional war

Maybe I really am delusional, and I’m not sure what’s fact and what’s fiction
I’m waiting for someone to give me permission to make a decision of my own volition!
I want people to give a **** or two about the things I’m thinking loudly
I’m just asking for a little respect, after all, I always listen undoubtely

Smash me into the ground with your opinions, just listen and hear
I’m not trying to take your ear
You may not be real at all, but could you try a little harder
I want effort in relationships, not this ******* social torture

I need a push in the right direction, don’t tell anyone, but I probably need some help
I don’t think it’s in my best interest (even if it’s what I want)to be
I’m not trying to be a **** when I say this, bud
But I need you to step it up

First couple days back from the hospital
And already I am hostile
I see razors and want to bleed out
I see rope and want to hang

This is probably going to be a bad thing

I see socks that make good chokers when knotted together
I see paint that makes good poison when drunk
I've lost my innocence
I've found the ugly side of life

I used to see things as mere objects, not weapons

Staples, used to be just a utility for a stapler
Glass used to be something you sweeped away
Detergent used to be a laundry item
And knives used to be eating utensils

All I see now is suicide

I dream about slitting my wrist open
Watching the red spill from my arm
Smiling as I bleed to death
Sweet serenity

I've been writing notes

One to my friend
One to my brother
One to my teacher
And one to a ex-lover

I've become what I once thought improbable
I've become suicidal

Live life by the bottle
Let it lead you to hell
You can drink if you need a model
But you have to become a shell

I’ve been drinking like I’m a prince about to be king
Sneaking bottle after bottle without (quite yet) regret
Take swig after swig with grim
Trying so desperately to forget

The regret comes later
When the only thing I’ve forgotten is who I am
I’ve started to become the manipulator
And that’s never been my jam

The only thing I can say
Is I’m broke without pay
And now I talk with a sway
I’m telling you, I’m not the alcoholic you see today

People don't hear the true ****
They hear the pretty depressing ******* I feed to you
In stanzas and well made lines

I hide a-lot in these pill pockets of truth of mine
Like the fact that I undercounted my attempts of suicide
I've failed attempts at home before, but no one would know

Or I've been sexually assaulted more than once
But no one could know the real ****
Because I'm sure it's a turn off

No one gives a **** about the unraveling poet
No one would notice if I stopped posting
It's the curse of writing

The world tries to sweep me under the rug
Even on watt-pad, if you notice, there's no tag for suicide
And the depressing books, get swept aside for the Romance and Fantasy

I can say my work helps others, but that's not true
I can say my kindness makes a difference, but no one notices me
My actions don't do ****, and it's evident by the way people treat me

I am invisible, I am in hiding
I am lying to myself when I say there is hope for me
I should have known from the beginning, people like me don't get happy endings

People see a boy dressed in all black, and suddenly, he's up to no good
It doesn't matter if he always smiles at people and says good morning
It doesn't matter if he works hard to get a good education, and puts in effort

He's dressed in black, so he's not good enough
The world doesn't want to change, and it shows
Why try to change when the world just doesn't care?

I am a statistic, a grade, a number; I am not a person
I am not a friend, a son, or a brother
I am just a name written on paper, I am just a word

There is no hidden meaning to "Gray"
There is no meaning to the word
There is no meaning to me

If I don't show up today, would anyone notice?
How long would it be until people started wondering?
Or would I just become an urban legend

If I die today, would anyone come to my funeral
Or would it be empty, with just my body waiting to be buried
Would people bring flowers I actually like, like a Nymphaea nelumbo, a cherry blossom, or cacti

Or would I just get carnations, the boring ones
Would people give fake speeches about how they knew me
How "great of a person I was" when they'd never spoken to me

When I die, this poetry is the only thing that will suggest the truth
It'll be my defensive to the "I had no idea" argument people love to pull out
When you did, everyone did, I'm kind of ******* obvious

Yet I'm still holding onto our secret
I'm still shut up about your crime
I'm still pretending it never happened like a good little victim

But no one gives a ****, I doubt you even know my name
I doubt you even remember what you've done
And I hope my death makes you feel guilty as ****, well, if you remember me

The world doesn't care about "victims", "survivors", or "warriors"
or whatever else the world decides to call us
They care about making a quick buck, and getting a bit of fame

Shove us into the spotlight to make you look good
Use us for attention, money, and publicity, but I'm sure
It's all out of the goodness of you heart, right?

The truth freaking *****
But I won't apologise for speaking up
Cause I'm the one no one notices anyway, right?

I lifted my head

From my hospital bed

To find an IV

And some meds




"Am I dead"

I say aloud

"No,

Not yet"




A scary grin on his face

And eyes that lust for my death

He takes a step in my direction

With a knife in his left




"So long my good friend"

He says

With a creepy grin

Just moments

Before my very ****** death

Meaningless noise finds my ears
swimming words
Images flying
Eyes crying
I hold tight to my wrists
Clutch my head
My ears too
Let my voice whisper
"Stop, please."
As the thoughts and memories
Travel into my mind
They double down
Scream them away in my head
People watch
As my eyes go wide, and my head spins
Cover my eyes
As the tears fall one by one
Such dutiful soldiers
People advert they're eyes, in respect
and I fall apart

The stars shine bright

as the moon emits light

It's all prettier than I write




I write about depression

My obsessions

and my daily confessions




It's easier to write

than to fight

most of the time




I write by candlelight

or so I wish

I instead write by a LED light

The one I bought on wish

but that's not the important bit




The sun & the moon

will always upstage

this fool

after all,

they're too

**** beautiful

Iced hands
Drip, dripping with icicles
Light a fire
Dip, dipping them in gasoline
Stick a hand in, one at a time,
Into the fireplace
Smile
Scorched hands, are happy hands
Crackling in time with the flickering flames
The shadows cast, dance the tango around the room
Skin melting off the bone
Drip, dripping down my arms

My father’s stony face
Gripped with expressionless, death
He just stares at me
And I tear back

The dirt feels too hard
The world, too cold
I’m saying sorry
But everything just feels wrong

I’m grieving for him
But it’s not him who’s dead
It’s me

Scared of the silence that presses
Clinging to you like my too tight fitting jeans
Suffocation isn't a possibility
It's a reality
Left gasping and grasping for air that will never come back
Trying to speak the truth
But the language has abandoned me
I'm not writing
I am thinking
Trying to think away the silence
I am drowning

Wrap the skeleton hands
Around the door handle
Pull hard
Open with a cracked rib

Lips cut and bleeding
Nose broken and in needing
See the truth
With an eye of death

Look towards the exposed
For guiding and teaching
Run a bony, bloodied, hand
Across the ribcage

The warm rays of the sun on my back

The soft wet grass underneath my feet

Soft clouds glide across the sky above

The birds chirping morning melodies

Everything perfect

Close your eyes and open them

Welcome back to the real world

The cold rain pouring on my back

The muddy debris filled grass no one steps in

The overly polluted sky

The cawing crows

Reality really bites

My mind screamed with each wave,
Each crash.
A verse slams into me.
Witness it's words turn to thought.
An unwavering battle to think
Straight.

Help my mind won't stop.
It's screaming.                      LISTEN. LISTEN. LISTEN. LISTEN.
-let the thoughts take over-
Let them find me at my worst.
Bug -eyed-
                                                                   Obsessed over pointless memories.
Memories that won't stop running
Running round and round and round.
One person. One scene. Two scenes. Three scenes. Scream.
Four scenes. Five scenes. Six scenes. Seven scenes. Scream.
Seven hundred scenes. Eight thousand scenes. Nine million scenes. Scream.

HELP. HELP. HELP. HELP. HELP. HELP.
-my mind won't stop-

Hear me scream
The walls listen with curious ears
One by one, my thoughts flow into the stream
For years that stream has killed me with fears

Overcrowded, the thoughts clash together, like waves
Roars, deafen the ears, as the thoughts seem to find speakers
They foresee the days where the only thing to do is to dig the graves
They become such harsh beaters

Creeping into my eyes, burning memories make themselves known
Tearing me apart, muscle by muscle, sense by sense
Raise a shaky hand to my face, touch bone
Feel the stream verge on hurricane, every muscle tense

One single tear falls from the hollow bone where eyes once resided
A flurry of thoughts, burning memories, rush to the surface
Scream out in terror as my body, and mind divided
Feelings ripple, and washes away my only purpose

I am worthless

The rage bubbles

Like lave trapped in a cage

The pain troubles

my poor little page.




I write about madness 

my poor little brain 

it feels me going mad

As I write my last refrain




The happiness seeping in 

as the voices try to win 

They aren't doing a very good job 

cause they soon turn into a blob




The happiness lets me know I won 

the war of surviving a day more

I let the sadness go

As I reach for the light

to let the good dreams come

after another day won

What is this feeling in my chest
I really wish it didn’t exist
It’s heavy. It’s sinking. It’s so **** destructive.
I wish it didn’t exist
Breathing despair
Cursing myself as misery taps me on my shoulder
Did they just rip a piece of me off?
But they aren’t gone yet
So why is grief breathing down my neck

Tonight, Venus sits next to the moon
But tomorrow the moon will sit alone

I struggle to pick myself off the ground
I have melded with my worst fears
Reality crashes into me like a brick
But I never say ****
Hearing myself sob in my head
While I just silently nod
Rocking ever so slightly in my rolling chair of despair
I’d rather not be here
My body suddenly wishes to be somewhere
Anywhere that’s not here
In this city of light pollution
The stars have always calmed me
I always seek them out when I cannot breathe
But today as I fall into despair
I feel only the rhythm of empty music
And see the polluted Chicago air
I just want to see the stars
And to be anywhere that’s away from here

He was lost

On the sea

Of exhaust




He was tossed

From his own mind

Because of his home life




He thought

He would never be found

After all, It was his fault




Until someone talked

Telling him how to heal his wound

He was shocked




Because someone knocked

And found

A lost child