You know how you wake up?
You swing your legs out of bed
and walk.
You don't look for the ground
to make sure the floor's there.
Because the floor's always there.
Until one day,
it's not.
And you swing your legs out
and instead of your feet hitting the floor,
you fall right through.
No warning
to let you brace yourself.
No signs
to let you know it's leaving.
It just
leaves.
And now, you're constantly checking the ground
as you walk to make sure
you don't fall again.
I never expected to fall right through
the way I did.
I used to wake up for you.
Now, i don't even know
how to get out of bed.

You were a wild, wild man.
Not only did you provoke my search of eternal life
but you also showed me the strength of death.
Your soft brown eyes have seen ungodly things
you watched your father's name turn to dust in your mouth
as you spit out things to call him.
His absence has not only caused a rip in your being,
but a restlessness in your heart as well.
You've chased after women and power
and all you've gotten was broken pieces.
I patched you up the first time only to be left,
only to be bruised and battered
physically and mentally.
But you have returned to me,
seeking shelter and guidance
which I will gladly provide.
Your talk of loving my body and skin
has produced an unwelcome feeling in my stomach.
I know I will be left,
bruised and battered,
but I do not mind the broken skin and purple marks
with a sweet mouth like yours.
I've only got two things left to ask;
one will bring you hell
and one will bring you heaven,
will you hit me like a man?
and love me like a woman?

It was over a year ago, at the crack of dawn before school. I knew you always liked it when my room was clean so I cleaned it three times before you got there. After my shower, I walked in my room and I found you laying in my bed, your hips pointed toward the ceiling. I fell in love as soon as I laid eyes on you. You knew all of my secrets and monsters, you were surrounded by so much of me and yet you breathed in my sheets like the air was a hymn to the lord and my blankets were the mouth of God swallowing you in. You looked up at me and whispered Christ's name and smiled like you knew the entire universe's secrets. "Tell me that that body is mine." I would have told you anything if you asked and you whispered to me in Spanish, things that would have made even the devil blush. But your voice made it sound like you were softly singing symphonies into my ear. Your body was the tide kissing the shore every time it arrived. My skin was a wax candle and your body was the flame, so that explains why I melt in your hands. Every sigh of my name ripped my heart into pieces. I never liked my name until I knew what it tasted like dripping from your tongue. Each letter was thick and heavy with love. I get addicted easily, so I found myself suffering from withdraw when your skin wasn't connected to mine. Some nights you held me so tightly that I thought my body molded to yours. But when your arms started to loosen, I feared that I would lose your shape. I have lost your shape. And now that you're gone, all I have left is me.

I have been inside my head for the past few days. Human contact has not taken me out of it like it typically would. My eyes have sunk deeper into my skull because of the lack of sleep, the more insomnia medication I take the less I sleep and I would think it would be the opposite. Perhaps it's the meals I've been missing, or maybe it's the people I've been missing, but either way I think my eyes have gone looking for something to fill this empty chest. If my heart is there, then I can't feel it beating and that's a terrifying thing to experience. They say the body's natural calming system is to listen to itself breathe and understand that oxygen is entering your lungs and you are alive. But I find that to be a rather uncomforting system. I have never wanted to be alive so why should my lungs working bring me any sense of equanimity.
I spent half the drive home swerving last minute out of the way of light poles because i kept remembering that i wanted my sister to have the car when im dead and my parents shouldnt have to pay to fix it. I have ****** up my life immensely and i cannot fix it nor restore it to its natural order. I am left with broken pieces and i cant tell if its of others or just myself so i'll settle for both and apologize to everyone. I have cleaned my entire room 6 times. I have painted my nails. I have a nice dress picked out. All that is left is calculating the amount of pills i need to take to greet my friends in heaven. If there is one. I sure hope there is not a hell because i never did well in the heat. I think i know why suicide is a sin, because life and death is the only thing God can control and by killing myself i am beating him at his own game.

Are human beings programmed to stay?
"Beginning to end"
could be programmed into a person's make-up but
disregard of human design is detrimental to
everyone around that human.
For everyone involved,
getting hurt is inevitable.
Help is not on its way,
instead you are left to fend for yourself.
Just waking up could become impossible,
killing yourself slowly through
love or cigarettes or
more drugs and alcohol than the city could handle.
Nothing could ever
open up the world of
pain better than
quarreling with your own demons.
Reaching out for a hand that
stops reaching for yours
teaches self-harm better than
underdeveloped scars ever could.
Veins are paint trays begging to be opened,
watered down with the
x-ray's of splintered bones from the first hit.
Your pain is inevitable,
zipping with the force of unrequited love.

I am selfish enough to want to get better
but i am backwards enough to not take any steps to get there.
I like the sound of Mozart in the morning
if your voice is unavailable.
I am willing to take a man
and hide him away in my pocket
as long as no one else can see him.
I am more than a human being
but less than a ship
because I can drown on command
but have no external survival devices for those around me when I'm gone.
I am like water
because I can slip through your fingers
but I am able to stay solid as long as I stay away from your lips.
I am like the sound you hear
in unbearable silence
driving away at your eardrums begging to be heard.
I am the branch accidentally tapping on your window
because he made me do it
and the Wind is a hard fellow to deny.
I am that three-leaf clover you mistook for a lucky one
so you split one leaf to make four
just to make others believe you've found something great.
I am the illusion of a father figure that your father should have been
although he is still here
and you have not found enough space in your heart for forgiveness.
I am the claw marks on your back after you've been ******
not by a man who loves you
but by a stranger who's sole purpose was to not let you get away.
I am composed of sweet smiles and sad eyes
of carbon monoxide
of unimaginable poisons and tales.
I am the fear of your future wrapped up in a bottle
I am the fear of your tomorrows molded gently into pink raised lines on your body
I am the fear of yourself suspended gracefully in the air disguised as smoke
but i am indefinitely known as the words you are afraid to speak
in fear that they might shatter.