I was a rose
Turned black with decay
Until my petals fell to the dirt
And I stood naked
In front of your audience

I was a rose
Watered with vinegar
Fed with cyanide
Loved by your ego
And broken by your hands

I was a rose
Torn from the roots
Cut off at the stem
Dead before I was alive
And rotten before I was ripe

I was a rose
Stabbed by my own thorns
Bleeding from the inside
Draining my crimson color
Into your palms

I was your rose
Painted black by your lips
Brushed to dark perfection
My expiration date long passed
As you sniffed my last breath away.

I was your rose.

When you have someone asking you
If you feel suicidal
Eight times a day
You start to feel like maybe you should be
Otherwise…
They would have let you go by now

You blink.
And notice
There are no clocks on the walls
Making you painfully aware
That the ticking sound is just in your head
Trying to cope
Without the security of time

They tell you you have to feel better
Before you can go home
But you have to be home
In order to feel better
You know that.
But you start to wonder
If they’ll ever figure it out

It occurs to you
That this group of strangers
Are now in control of your life
They could lock the door for months
Isolate you from all you know
And tell you it’s for your own safety

You are stuck.

The lights in the hallway flicker
Like the programmed beginning
Of a horror movie
You blink.
And another set of lanyards and clipboards
Are standing in front of you
Asking if you feel like hurting yourself
Or someone else today

No.

It’s getting harder to tell the truth
And the other patients;
Vociferously desperate around you
Are the most intense form of peer pressure

Seconds feel like hours
And days like years
You blink.
And the frustration of keeping your sanity
Drips from your eyes
Your own tears used as evidence
For the lie they want you to admit

Your eyelids droop
Heavy with the exhaustion
Of keeping a sound mind

Either way
You know it’s only a matter of time
Before you blink again.

It feels like I'm drowning
Maybe that's just because
I'm downing
Ten shots of ******
An hour
The power
Of comparison
To what I used to be
Straight.
Addict free
Every ounce of purity
Now stained
By an unclean bloodstream
So I'm far underwater
Committing my own manslaughter

Sinking
With every breath
Inhaling death
Free from thinking
It may be true that I'm dying
Supplying
My own toxins
Lacking proper caution
All this to avoid crying
Maybe it's wrong
But ******* it feels right
A fall with no flight
Clenched fists
With no fight

Because I can still breathe
When I'm drowning
And being underneath
The fluids
Is just as natural
And seemingly gradual
As a heart that's still beating
All my regrets retreating
The pain quickly fleeting
So I shoot up again…

And then just keep on repeating.

How can anyone love me

When I don't love myself?

Uneasiness
And insecurity
Because maybe he won't like
The way I move my mouth

But when my lips
Officially greet his
For the first time
I forget why I was anxious
Or why I popped 16 mints
Or put on an extra coat of Chapstick
Because I can taste him

I can taste another human being
But it isn't classified as cannibalism
Because I'm not eating them
Simply tasting
A delicious mixture
Of love and lust
But really
What's the difference?

There's a tongue between my lips
Not mine
******* my mouth
Choking me
… In that **** kinda way

Part of someone else
Is inside me
Interlocking body parts
Exchanging saliva
A cringe worthy thought
Simultaneously turning me on

Maybe I'm a good kisser
But how am I to tell?
I know he's a good kisser
I know
Because he makes me moan
He makes me hungry for more
Or maybe
I'm just easy like that

Our teeth clash
But I don't bite
Although
Sometimes
I chew on his lower lip
It still
Doesn't classify as cannibalism.

It took me years
To build myself
Molding my shape
With ***** fingerprints
And a dull butter knife
Smoothing out
Every rough edge

I spent my lifetime
Crafting this delicate clay
Into something
That didn't hurt my eyes
And when I was done
I baked it solid
Roasted
Into a sturdy piece
Of breathing art
…
And then you came along

You begged
To get close to me
Close enough
To see me
Close enough
To touch me
So I let you
Carefully - of course
Until seemingly
Your soft hands
Were gentle enough
To hold me

But as time passed
You became a bit more…
Careless
Careless
So every time
You picked me up
Part of me was left cracked
Before you set me back down
And your hands
Seemed to bring more hurt
Than comfort

I began to resent you
But I didn't dare say it
Because I was sitting
In nostalgia
Remembering the days
When I really was
A work of art
In your eyes

And yet, eventually
Your carelessness
Rotted to recklessness
Until one day
You dropped me -
The slivers
Of my little clay heart
Scattered on the floor

Despite your best efforts
It wasn't enough
Not even
All the King’s horses
And all the King's men
Could put me back
Together again
I was hopeless
And the fragments
You tried to glue back
Were worthless

What am I now?
Art? No
I'm just a sad lump
Of clay shards and glue
Disfigured beyond belief
An eye-sore
For anyone who looks at me

I wish I could say
That my shattering
Was entirely your fault
But I blame myself
For ever letting you
Get close enough
To touch me.

We cried
when you were diagnosed

She cried
when you stopped eating

He cried
when you cut yourself

They cried
when you ran away

You cried
when you lost your home

I cried
when you lost yourself.

Open your eyes
“...”
Look at me
and tell me what I have become.
I cannot see for myself
My reflection melts mirrors
and turns puddles into vapor
I glare into the abyss
Hoping to catch a glimpse of my own pupils
I don’t know what I look like
Tell me,
How will my eyes look
when our stares meet for the first time?
“Empty”
Yes, I tore out the soul
Behind the doors of flesh covering my eye sockets
I have scraped my nails against bone
As my fingers pressed into my eyes
and carved out the consciousness that possessed me

Open your eyes
“...”
I need to know how my skin pulsates
What undulating form has it taken today?
Can you hear it?
Gurgling restlessly
My shape refuses to remain consistent
Tell me,
What will my body look like
when you lay eyes on me?
“Damaged”
Yes, I am wounded
The color crimson oozes from my pores
It sticks to my flesh possessively
I collect chunks of the liquid on my skin
As I imagine it decorates me nicely

Open your eyes
“...”
I need you to describe my limbs
For I always feel that I am reaching
for something I cannot obtain
My fingers squirm
into tight crevices and holes they are unwelcome in
Like curious, thoughtless insects
Unaware of the consequences for prying
Tell me,
What will my limbs appear as
when you set sight on me?
“Demented”
Yes, I have fought against conformity
by twisting my bones out of line
Listen. Hear each splintering cracks
defining how I am different

Open your eyes
“...”
You have to answer what my expression looks like
I can never seem to sync my face with my emotions
It’s tricky to coordinate such complex ideas
Tell me,
What will my expression be
when you finally gaze upon me?
“Grinning”
Yes, I’m afraid I can’t change that
I carved my smile with a butcher’s knife
from ear to ear
So I wouldn’t have to fake it anymore

Now open your eyes
“...”
Tell me what I have become
Shackle me to my image
Let me stare back at someone
who sees me for the first time.
Look at me.

Wish
you
were
dead?

Or

Wish
the
pain
would
stop?

Wanting, crying
Pleasure dying
Always sighing
Never finding
What is seeked
Or sought
Or sworn
Or the pain
Constantly borne

Weeping longer
Crying harder
Distant hoarder
Desperate torture
Of all things
Through battle
Through war
What is lost
Is lost too sore

Sin in darkness
Far from restless
Burning weakness
Truly lifeless
Death that walks
Life in
Dirt ground
Darkened earth
Not safe nor sound

Quickly fleeting
Love depleting
Always bleeding
Never meeting
Ones we love
And friends
Left to hate
Heavy heart
Cuz this is fate.

The scariest part about Love

Is that Loss always follows.

A cut between legs?!
Panic at the sight of red

Older girls just laugh.

You remind me
Of a stupid pop song
Too upbeat
With repetition; I dread

And I hate
That I know all the words

So you stay forever
Stuck in my head.

Being free means absolutely nothing

But becoming free means everything.

I'm the type of person
That wears a gas mask
In the midst
Of flower petals
…
Simply because
The hallucinogenic scent
Reminds me
Too much
Of your perfume.