She stared into the vacuum of melancholy,
still unsure of what the word meant.
With the devils piercing eyes penetrating her skull,
but that was okay because she still didn't understand what religion was.
Her heart full of love, and not a single trace of hate.
Childish behavior was deemed acceptable because she was a child.
It was the crickets song,
the lonely moon just floating - smiling.
Lightning striking the asphalt made the night even darker.
As she took one step,
the devil took two.
Soon her steps became tiresome and short,
and the devils became bold and long.
That's when the crickets got arthritis.
Her globular organs changed into a dark colour.
She faithfully fed her pet pig and then slaughtered it.
Strange behavior.
The candle burns in memory,
youth passed away.

I remember sitting at the edge of my bed,
thinking that this was it.
I remember sitting at the edge of my bed,
wanting to die at the age of 14 because the I felt the life I had lived was unbearable.
When someone makes you feel like **** all the time you feel like there is no escape.
No, it wasn't the bullies at my school.
It was my mother.
My mother who had drove me to my attempted suicide.
Hounding at me for days, ripping me apart like a tough piece of meat, and these vicious attacks that would leave me numb like diamorphine would.
The only way I could escape was drugs.
Drugs that would make me feel dead, but also alive.
Swimming around in my blood like a sardine looking for its school.
Blood pounding, heart rushing, adrenaline pumping.
And when it was over?
I would find myself in the emergency room at 4:00 AM with my arm hooked up to a saline drip, like a prisoner who was to be interrogated.
I'd wake up with thirsty eyes and a mouth stale with the taste of *****.
The tribulation was unbearable,
with every inch of my body griping for more of the substance.
I felt like I was tangled up in branches like ligaments that would only break once you cut them with a scalpel.
Then I met you.
It was like I didn't need the drugs anymore, but I did need the scalpel,
and you were my ******.
You were addictive like a drug and I always came back for more.
You tasted so fine,
like beef but softer.
I was awoken at 4:00 AM with the sound of police banging of my door.
I think they found out little secret.

I had spent the majority of my life dosed up on antipsychotics,
pills floating in my stomach in a desperate attempt to flood my brain with sanity.
Grown men and women asking me questions and then putting me somewhere with white, cushioned walls.
And if I did so much as raise my hand to defend myself, i'd find myself being restrained by men in white clothing.
I never really saw daylight.
I'm writing this letter to whoever may read this as i need to apprise of why I did such a thing.
I selected the first woman I saw, I saw plenty of women within the white walls, but none with a complexion so beautiful and so unique.
I had this urge since I could detect detestation,
It was as if i needed to make my mark on the world as I has not done so before.
The urge seemed infinite, I could not cease the sensation.
The last thing I saw in her eyes was my reflection.
That night, I watched her blood drip from the coffee table to paint the carpet red,
I watched the whites in her eyes grow more intense,
And that night I lost my virginity to the most beautiful woman I had ever met.

Let's play pretend.
Let's pretend we don't know each other.
Let's pretend we were never lovers.
Let's start over.
You can teach me how to sing.
I can teach you how to dance.
You can teach me to play piano.
I can teach you how to love.
Let's start over.
Let's drink.
Let's drink to the good times, to the bad.
Let's get ****** up together and not remember how it ends.
Let's be young, wild, and free.
Let's start over.
Now let's remember.
Let's remember the past.
Let's remember how we used to be.
Let's remember all the fun we had when we pretended.

I had spent the majority of my life dosed up on antipsychotics,
pills floating in my stomach in a desperate attempt to flood my brain with sanity.
Grown men and women asking me questions and then putting me somewhere with white, cushioned walls.
And if I did so much as raise my hand to defend myself, i'd find myself being restrained by men in white clothing.
I never really saw daylight.
I'm writing this letter to whoever may read this as i need to apprise of why I did such a thing.
I selected the first woman I saw, I saw plenty of women within the white walls, but none with a complexion so beautiful and so unique.
I had this urge since I could detect detestation,
It was as if i needed to make my mark on the world as I has not done so before.
The urge seemed infinite, I could not cease the sensation.
The last thing I saw in her eyes was my reflection.
That night, I watched her blood drip from the coffee table to paint the carpet red,
I watched the whites in her eyes grow more intense,
And that night I lost my virginity to the most beautiful woman I had ever met.

The day my father told me that we had to move out because we couldn't afford to live there anymore, was the worst day of my live.
It was the day my mother killed herself,
in bloom.
So not only did we lose one person, but two.
I saw my father turn to drink.
It was his new favorite hobby.
The kids would laugh at me when I turned up with uniform that was creased all over, because we didn't own an iron.
I came to school with blue lips rather than red,
because we couldn't afford to be warm.
I heard my father cry at night.
He started to bring his friends into the house when I was asleep,
and I'd always wake up to his limp body on the couch with syringes and beer bottles dotted everywhere.
Things started to turn nasty after that.
When my father would infect his blood with harsh chemicals, his friends would come into my room at night and hurt me.
I didn't see how he could ever call them friends.

When you care so much about someone,
   friend or a partner.
You'd do so much for them.
  Like give them kidney or even take a bullet for them.
But when you know that they don't care about you as much as you do about them,
  It aches inside.
My lungs begin to fill up with shells and flowers,
and suddenly it's hard to breathe.
It's almost like a dizzying Sisyphean curse spinning you around in the Earths orbit,
  and everything becomes blurred.
You then suddenly begin to wonder if anyone cares,
  because after all the world is a lonely place.
So give me one more cup of coffee and i'll be gone.