I can still feel the numbness entering my bloodstream,
And my stomach wringing once reality’s claws ripped into me.  
My chest flooded with an emptiness I’d hoped to never come to know,
An emptiness as heavy as the heavens right before a storm.
Resistance would be futile, so I began to let myself drift,
Hoping that by doing so I would somehow cease to exist.
I wanted to scream and shout, but only silence rung in my ears.
Waves of loneliness crashed over me as you confirmed my deepest fear.

Hook, line, and sinker, I fell for your sweet deceit.
I should have recognized the changes, so subtle and discrete.
You can love someone deeply,
You can trust someone implicitly,
but truly knowing them is never a guarantee.

My soft moans are the lullabies that put your inhibitions to bed,
And awaken the thoughts that awaken your head.
Our bodies speak stories a thousand years old
Of lovers speaking with tongues without control
Of beginnings enticing enough to lead us to sin
Of endings explosive enough to make us begin again.

You are surrounded by people,
Vain and empty.
You reflect others but retain nothing. You have nothing to offer except flickers of images.
You absorb darkness but can't hold light.
You are surrounded by people,
Vain and empty,
When your glass is intact and their reflections aren't distorted.
You remain vain and empty.
People use you for an SOS when they're lost
And drop you when they're found. You're used and broken.
Once you crack your shards are tossed to the side.
No amount of glue can put you back together
Once you're used and broken.

We all have monsters in our closets we'd rather not wake up.
When we do, it's for someone that'll protect you.
I woke mine up for you.
Where are you now to protect me?

I try and try to write about
The love that keeps my heart beating
And the love that tears it apart.

I cry and cry every night about
The hole in my chest that once was you
And the hole in my chest that will continue.

I pry and pry your mind
To see why I am not enough
And to see why and how our love went awry.

I die and die every time
I see pictures of her with you
And I see pictures of when it was just
Me and you.

My mind is so clouded,
My thoughts so corrupt.
My chest feels so tightened,
My breathing isn't enough.

The air in my lungs
Seems barely enough to get me by.
My thoughts are so unstrung,
I can't get them straight even if I tried.

Heavens knows I'm trying
To not be so ****** up,
But these voices, they're crying,
They won't let me interrupt.

Though quiet are my lips,
Rambunctious is my mind.
Though cold is my soul,
Warm is my crimson-stained skin.
Bitter-sweet the poison
That courses through my veins.
"Craft a self-made cure,"
The voices in me said,
"To forget all your sins."
Watch all my pain,
Flow swiftly away.
Not a sound escapes
As I slowly destroy
What is destroying me.

You strum the strings of my heart with your fingers' gentle touch.
You change the sound of my melody with the firmness of your clutch.
You tune the sadness out of my soul.
You fill me with your rock n' roll.

Please, Oh please don't strum too hard
Or else you'll leave me marred.
For I only have these set of strings
To make my love for you sing.  

Dear player of mine,
Don't be fooled by the shininess of my pine.
My strings have reached their peak,
I am not the guitar your talent should seek.

//                      
                        "Knock knock"
                           Who's there?
                         "Knock knock"
                           Who's there?
                         "Knock knock"
           Hello? Is anyone really there?

I open the door where the mysterious knocks came from
To enter a room full of mirrors
Reflecting a girl who has her finger on the trigger.  

                       "Knock knock"
                           Who's there?
                        "Knock knock"
                           Who's there?
                         "Knock knock"
          Hello? Is anyone really there?

She stares at her reflection and asks, "Is anyone there?"
The voices inside whisper "NO"  
As if she already didn't know what this implied.

                       "Knock knock"
                           Who's there?
                        "Knock knock"
                           Who's there?
                         "Knock knock"
                         No one's there.

Just before the trigger went boom
The girl just stared.
Blank eyes and pale lips as she said with gloom,
"No one's really here."

We play a game, a provacative tug of war.
Seductively sinful, our bodies destined to be one.
The sleepier the world gets
The more awake we become.

You tenderly kiss
My plump pink lips
As your hand on my neck
Tightens its grip.

You take pleasure in the whimpers
I start to make
As you say, "Not yet.
You're gonna have to wait."

I beg and plead
For you to give me sweet release,
But you demand control
And obedience to you as my creed.

Silk red underwear begging to be ripped.
Blushing red skin craving to be bit.
The friction of our bodies is enough to ignite the soul.
Light me bright crimson red, giving me zero control.

Is this love or is this lust?
Frankly, it really doesn't matter.
I'm wearing all red,
The color of desire.

The hunger pains are so strong, they're earth-shattering.
It feels like my ribs will crack open, like the sidewalk during an earthquake.
My stomach is excavating itself from its very depth,
twisting and turning and rumbling, like the molten lava from an erupting volcano.
The pains come in waves,
like the rippling tides as the tsunami approaches.
Though sudden they have come,
the damage is already done.

When I was little
Pain was defined by broken bones, scraped skin, paper cuts.

When I was little
The worst heartbreak was a friend not wanting to share their crayons.

When I was little
I never imagined myself as an artist.
Canvas
Brush
Paint.

Now that I am older
Pain is defined by broken bottles, sliced skin, deep cuts.

Now that I am older
The worst heartbreak is the one that comes with a missing goodbye.

Now that I am older
I am a very talented artist.
Skin  
Razor
Blood.

It's hard to put words to feelings I don't fully understand
But it's like I'm drowning
And
Everyone is just watching
And the few times someone throws me a lifesaver
I'm too focused on me trying to keep afloat
That I don't see it

He took me
He used me
He ruined me
From the inside out

All that's left
Is me standing in front of the mirror
Staring back at the shattered shards
Of a me that used to be

He took me
He used me
He ruined me
From the outside in

All that's left
Is me standing in front of the mirror
Staring back at a damaged reflection
Of the me that used to be

He took me
He used me
He ruined me
From my mind to my soul

All that's left
Is me standing in front of the mirror
Staring back at a reflection put back together using bandaids
And wounds washed away using cheap alcohol
A reflection that's trying to be the me that used to be

Sadness without a reason is the worst because how do you solve a problem without a cause?

1 in 5.
That's the statistic. 1 in 5 women have been sexually assaulted or *****.
I, I am that 1. I represent 1 in 5 victims of ****** assault and ****.
My ****, it wasn't a violent one.
On the contrary, it was filled with trust that would end in a broken promise of: "I won't force you." And "it's okay baby, you can trust me." You see, my ****, it wasn't a violent one.
Even though I didn't have a knife to my neck, I had daggers in my back. But we live in a culture where unless there was a struggle, my attack doesn't count. This culture thrives on "no is no" but what happens when you can't say no? What happens when the same hand you trusted is covering your mouth?
You see, my **** wasn't a violent one, I just "let the situation get out of hand."
I am 1 in 5, but this statistic isn't accurate. This statistic doesn't cover the other victims, the ones that weren't physically touched.
They have to deal with a heart they didn't break, trust they didn't burn, a life they didn't take.
Because you see, my **** wasn't a violent one, but nothing will ever be the same.
I am 1, but I tell a million stories.

You are more than what the world, or you, defines you as. You were meant to go out. You were mean to set the world on fire.

I was born with a flammable heart.
It's dark and dead when left untouched.
But the friction of your touch ,
I burn.
I burn bright red with passion and feeling.
I burn.
I burn for you.

Writer's block is like a stutter
The words want to come up.
Each letter claws its way to the surface.
Each moment that passes by seems like a silent eternity where self-expression is forbidden.

The suns's shining
The birds chirping
The water's flowing
        Peace
Yet I can feel
The clouds coming
The crow's cawing
The storm brewing
        Chaos

It's like hearing the ticking of a time bomb
But not able to find where it’s coming from  
Until you put your hand to your chest
And then you realize
That the bomb is your heart
And the tick, ticking
Is
Its
Beat.