What is mine? Nothing.
What do I deserve? Nothing
What are we entitled to? Death.
That is it, nothing else.

So why are we even here
why am I even here?
If i had never existed
He would still be alive

People died that would
still be alive, if i had not
been born then they
wouldn't have been there

because of me,
breathe, i need to breathe,
it should have been me
but i can not change it now

I got to move on
but I need help
but I am to stupid
to ask for it

how do you know if our fate
all comes down to a single date
to fall and fail
or to succeed, and prevail

Beautiful, smart, funny, cute.
Makes my daily commute
A lot more enjoyable
and my life more tolerable

oh wait she doesn't exist
cause every girls charm i can resist
i am broken and can't fall in love
i just am hoping for death from above

or death at all
cause life is a free fall
with no parachute
lives waiting on drug distribute

waste all of us our,
waiting for a love from afar
or near us, wanting it till our hearts stop
and keep trying until we finally drop

That instinct
You have
When you're this depressed
And
Every time
You're in the
Stainless Steel kitchen
And your mom
Is stirring soup at the stove,
And a dribble of
Tomato basil
Slobbers down the side
Of the black pan.

And there's still
A knife out
From when
Tomato intestines
Sprawled across a cutting board,
Which is now in the
Soap-water sink.

You feel it,
In that second.
Instinct.
Need, really.
To take it
And slice open your wrists,
Or maybe just one,
If you're having a good day.

You seriously consider it.
It isn't just a thought.
It can
Scare you, really.

You want-
And one day, might need-
To pick up that knife
And do bad things.
Things that good girls
Wouldn't dream of.

But you don't do it,
And you won't do it,
Because your mom is right there
Stirring soup
And ignoring tomato drool.

And it's such short notice,
You haven't written your note yet.

every time i see your photo, i get sad
and think and wish for what we had
but then remember i did it for you
so you could be happy, but i still envy you two

cut open your chest
to put your heart to rest
cut the heart out, leave a stone?
no, you can be forever alone

leave it empty,
"so they long
for it to be filled
and all it can yield
is pain"

cut open the head
to make them dead
or in this case, wish
wish that was the case,

in their head you will leave it empty
so it yearns to be filled
and anger is all it will yield

no sew them up
leave the brain and heart  in a cup
and bury them in  the ground
so they can never be found

I've learned that happiness
cannot be found in the form of a little
purple capsule.
I've learned that Pisa will have to wait until next time.
I've learned that the third mushroom
held in my sweaty palm was not as
big a deal compared to the other two opening my mind.
I've learned that a part of me
died that night where we ****** in a
room with no furniture.
I've learned that life is work and that
the molotov cocktail of Dubrah and eay mac
that came spewing from me left an orange tang
upon the floor.
I've learned that pain is better than numbness
and that jabbing a sewing needle repeatedly in my arm
was an educated decision.
Most importantly I've learned that together we are better than alone.

I sent it
At three AM
On one of those nights
Where silence gets violent
And I'm alone in my head.

I told you about the
Tiny pink pills
And how
If I took eight
I would sleep forever.
I gushed that
They were hidden
Under the toothpaste slathered
Countertop
In my bathroom.

I told you I loved you
But that
You weren't enough to stop me anymore.

I did actually consider it.
It was one of those nights.
But at some point,
As I laid on top of my comforter
And shivered under the fan,
I realized that
You weren't going to wake up
And convince me out of it.

I also thought
About how my mom was
A light sleeper.
How the floorboards would sound like
Orchestras
And the cabinet
Would be the symbals
To her.

I fell asleep
Numb,
But naturally numb,
And woke up wondering
What you would say.

You didn't say anything.

I was 13 when I plunged into the darkness
night-lights in this room no longer had a place in it
my mother had told me to "grow up"
but every night I suffocate myself with my blanket
even though it's 11 p.m.
I cover myself whole,
dead afraid of mystical killers lurking around
in the walls of my room when the setting is their colour
but after a while I found out I had demons;
all of us got along well together
and the lightbulb was never replaced for a very long time.

I am now 18, returned after a year and a half in college
there I spent a lot of my nights alone (figuratively) and lonely (literally)
I sleep in the dark comfortably there
the shadows that play around in my room does not scare me
but I came back home a few days ago
everything in my room here and now is foreign
although everything is how they used to be
instead of 11 I now sleep at 3
when the lights are switched off
the walk back to my bed is excruciating, the fear
it's as if I don't trust the darkness in my room anymore.