A bottle of whiskey
can ease the hunger pains
the soldier feels
as he lays in his bunk.

A bottle of tequila
can erase the images
the soldier sees
as he waits for the attack.

A bottle of *****
can mask the emptiness
the soldier finds
and he drink his life away.

Empty smiles, broken dreams,
The pain takes her to new extremes.
Broken promises, people changed,
Why can't her life be rearranged?
Punches thrown, blood shed,
Going to school was to dread.
Hurting inside, downpour rain,
She shoots the drugs up her vein.
Burnt bridges, cut thighs,
In the agony she lies.
Dart secrets, dead heart,
On her body she puts her art.
Words hurt, she starves,
The pain in her skin she carves.
One truth, no hope,
She longs for a new way to cope.
Breaking hearts, she flies,
They learn to listen to the girl who cries.
Blinding lights, hospital bed,
They'll soon find out that she's dead.
Empty smiles, broken dreams,
They pain took her to the extremes.

She'd ask them,



                        See what they'd say


       If you're so happy and free



                Maybe you actually miss it



          But she is already perceived as



     Crazy, lunatic and unsafe



                     And that's what she is



Your perfect, extraordinary,



                     Little



    Creation



                You know everything to



     An exact T about her



          Now the Bride of Frankenstein,



                                   Tell her,



               Is she as beautiful as you



           Thought she might be?



               Is she deranged enough for you?



         And she's crazy,



              She's ballistic for this



        All the highs, the lows,



              The way you brag about the other



                  The way you recited every word



            The way you carry the sun



    The way you know just the way to her heart



                 She is crazy for you



      And there is absolutely nothing



                She could ever do



     To be the things you first admired



                 And now a creation of you



           That could just possibly never be of use

Sometimes I go through a month or two where things start getting better, and I’m doing okay and then things start to happen and it gets bad again.

One of the nice things about being a messy person is that sometimes when you’re digging for something, you find something else. Something that you haven’t seen in ages, or have forgotten about. Something that makes you happy.

I’ll be okay. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day.

A midnight hour with cold wet air,
And fog that’s thick and grey.
Shadows lurk beneath the stair,
As the ghosts come to their prey.