It's funny how conversation can change things,
and how the words that spill from my mouth
aren't the same ones you paint upon my skin.
The days that decay you are the same that betray you
and your lips quiver at the thought of it.
Would you still hold me close at night
if I would have never sparked the conversation.
If all my effort ran dry and you held the canister
would you use it to help me bloom
or would you let me slowly wither away?
I am done being the one man machine
for this two-way street.
It takes two to tango and I'm dancing alone,
drenched in sweat while you watch from the sidelines.
I don't think you know what it's like
or do you? and is that why you pause before every choice?
Are you too scorned by your past to realize -
I need you to try for me,
and maybe this is me being selfish
or spoiled or something
but I don't want to feel like one of the games on your shelf
I don't want to have to grasp you by the jaw
just so you give me something to work with.
There is no conclusion if your words are elusive.
I just want mid-day 'I love you' reminders
or appreciation pictures of us together.
I don't need too much, just a little is enough.
The hands that hold me up
consequently are the same ones that hold me back.

I spend so much time telling myself not to break
I forget to acknowledge the fact-
I'm already ******* broken.
The pieces of me are spread out
amongst the hearts I've ripped to pieces
not realizing because the bottle
masked any emotion I thought I had.
It ***** listening to the stories of her
how highly you think of someone
who tore apart your heart-
I guess just like I did
and maybe that's why I hate her
maybe because I actually hate what I did to you...
But still hearing her ******* name makes me cringe
because you were the first person I actually opened up to
and **** I ******* cared for you.
If you think for a second that I didn't
then good, that's exactly what I wanted back then.
But now, I wish I could've let you know
it was never you-
the reason that I ran
It was insecurity and low self worth
that sent me running far from what I wanted all along.

I gave love a chance again,
because I didn't wanna **** up
the way I so royally did with you.
I know you never loved me
not like you thought you did at least
and you never fell for me exactly
just the mere idea of who you thought I was.
But I am damaged-
and I would have destroyed you
every single thing you gave,
because that's what I did then.

But because of you
I found great love
and opened up in ways
I never thought I would.
I learned to love myself
after I lost you.
My days are spent loving someone
in a way I never thought was even possible.
I never want this feeling to end,
and god I hope you get what you deserve.
You deserve so much.
Find it, and never let it go-
I know **** well I won't make that mistake again
I will love until I can no longer take it anymore-
It's an addiction, and ironically a cure.

I have no vices,
no advice for anyone who doesn't either.
I don't smoke cigarettes or even drink coffee.
I'm not much of a drinker anymore
and marijuana gives me anxiety.
So on days when the world is crushing me
one foot into my throat at a time
I wonder what my vice could be.
Pills have found themselves into the throats of many,
and when they found the empathy in my esophagus
They won.
And then the blade found it's way to my wrist
and I wondered how I got like this.
So ever since then, no vices for me.
No way out, no mask or hiding behind lies
or behind the counter counterfeits
Just my own demons staring right back at me
like gazing at my reflection in broken mirrors.
I have understood the beauty of a sunset
and known what it's like to cling to the darkness shortly after.
I have felt the sinister euphoria behind broken drywall
and broken noses.
But all of it led me to the same place I was before.
Clinging onto drunken nights and drunken lips,
with every cigarette lit I reminded myself-
this wasn't who I am and I liked it that way.

Now those drunken nights turn to dark ones
and those drunken lips have turned to friendships
so ever since then I remind myself that nothing is permanent
and as I realize the only thing that could save me in the end,
was knowing that I've done ****** things and
the world that surrounds me has been ****** since I entered it
but I am no cowered.
I will love more than I have been loved
which isn't a hard thing to do
because people, printers and partying came first-
I have always been a secretary to secondary.
But I will fear no man, or take no one's ****
I will live this life how I envisioned it,
and love more than I have witnessed.

Every inch of my being is tired,
exhausted really, or some other form of the word
that I can't quite think of because my mind is on auto-pilot.
and I can't exactly put into words how I feel right now
without sounding ******* crazy but basically-
I'm tired of wanting to see my hand go completely through a wall
and not exactly know why I want to let loose on everything around me.
I'm tired of one day wanting to ******* from the face of the earth
and the next loving every single tree and blade of grass there is.
The irritation isn't worth the euphoria
but the euphoria makes everything else seem worthy.

I have traced my hand on paper and turned it into something,
like a thanksgiving turkey or a cool art project
just so I am reminded that these hands can hold more things
and touch more people than I could ever imagine
all I have to do is utilize these words and harness them
into something, something other than rage and fury.
I'm so ******* tired of feeling like I am running a race
while wearing weights around my ankles
and a lock around my mind so I can't think of anything else
except the circumstance I am in right now.

Why is negativity so easy?
When everything else is so ******* hard
and I'd like to think it's because nothing good comes from negativity.
All good things come from positivity right?
Well what about to nights I want to be alone
but the whole world is on my back pushing me to maintain
and everyone is hovering around me with expectations and worries
But all I have to do is reply with a simple,
I don't feel well and it all vanishes.
But this isn't the life I want to live,
constantly feeling nothing but pain,
physical and psychical what the **** is the difference?
Because physically you're in pain it makes you psychically in pain
Vice Versa. Vice Versa. Vice Versa.  
This is why every vice we have like cigarettes and ***** are bad
because nothing good comes from the bad things.
So why are there any bad things at all?

I  would like at least once
to write and really think about what I write,
and get somewhere magical.
Write the best ******* **** i've ever laid eyes on-
But then I start and I get so enthralled in my stream of conscious
I am not longer in control of what my hands type,
it's like a teleprompter in my head leading the way.
I wish it all made sense.
I wish I believed in god and heaven-
that it would make all of this easier but it doesn't.
if god exists why do I see ghosts of lives past
creeping behind closed doors in the light of day?
Why in the **** is there so much corruption in the church?
You would think he would try to stop us,
but maybe this is the plan.

Maybe depersonalization is actually just being one with the universe.
and maybe manic depression is just reminding us
how we can harness the intensity of our emotions-
because I've felt that dry wall cling to the knuckles
on my fragile hands and ever since then I've never felt so alive,
but I look at the damage and start to worry what my father will think.
How will I mend what I spent so little time breaking?

I have no words for my current state of mind and it's ****** up.
Usually I can conjure into words
the way this situation makes my ******* stomach curl
and the mere idea of it sends me spiraling back
into the dark pit of angst and disgust that is my childhood
But this time, oh this time, the words I write will become
a cemetery for every ****** up thing you've ever done
I just wrote the words I'm sorry, but I don't mean them anymore.
Not to you, not ever to you again.
I'm tired of being the backlash of what's supposedly family
I'm exhausted on the idea of being caretaker
for someone who should be taking care of me
and the circumstances I am left with makes it hard to leave.
Because if it were up to me, I would've been gone so long ago.

Just like the day I ran away from home
because daddy was in our hot tub with someone who wasn't mommy,
the day I ran away because I wanted someone, anyone to notice me
to show me some kind of attention that wasn't unwanted.
I spent days of my youth sulking my own fake tragedy
only to find that no matter what, no one will pay attention to me
because these days are busy and daddy's too overbearing
and if anything get's ****** up it's war at the house again.

I will not be a refugee for other people's problems
I do not have the time or the sanity anymore to partake
in the fuckery that is adultery and selfishness.
I do not mourn for you anymore because I am no longer a child
and I no longer pretend just to get some sort of attention
so maybe you should stop as well..

You are a leech, you **** out any good left inside of all of us
and in my life and I am done putting up with it.
I will not stand idly by and watch everything I've made of myself
Crumble and go to ashes just because your burning down
everything you've made for yourself.

The day you took your palms and placed them where you shouldn't
was the same day you lost me for good.
These material possessions are just a filler for your guilt
and I will not be fooled by this deceit with your pocket full of the same.

This love doesn't come in currency,
and I don't take credit, so mourn in your tragedy
and face the debt you have placed on yourself.
I have no sympathy for a rich's man scorn.
I have no sympathy at all anymore.

I ******* hate myself
and I mean that in the nicest way.
I am the only one who loves myself
with a fiery burning rage.
But who also has the desire
to slit open the scars
I have left for myself.

It's like I'm my own back stabbing
***** of a best friend-
when all the world is sinking in
on these tainted shoulders
I'm the one who picks myself back up
because who else would?

I am as bipolar as the weather is
where I live and if you lived here
you'd think that was funny
but I find it kind of sad
that when the weather turns gray
and the sun is too shy to show it's beauty
that's the time I fall to my knees
and shout "no one loves me"
because maybe the sun is my security.
Or maybe my depression is seasonal,
either way I am one with mother nature
because she may be unpredictable
but you admire that about her
no matter how much **** we put her through
and ******* we feed her,
she's still there to make us cautious
that we will be struck by her lightening.

One day when my palms are sweaty
and my knees are weak
and theres nothing I can do to let go
of the bottle that is clenched to my chest
I will remember that I love myself best
and if I succumb to my own abuse
that makes me weak and frail
and kind of fickle if you think about it.

My mind is an escape and a prison,
kinda like going on vacation
where there's a construction site
right next door to your hotel
but you don't mind because
the beach is in walking distance.

I guess it's kind of hard to explain
where I come from and where my head
is currently at but I guess all I can say is-
There is gold at the end of the rainbow
but everyone's *** looks a little different.

I try so hard to make everything I do enough,
but it never is.
& I don't think it actually ever was to begin with.
And these words I speak mean nothing to you-
your absence says it all.
I'm sorry you don't care the way you used to.
I'm sorry this life has hollowed you out
and turned every inch of your being into a black hole.
You're not who you once were
and it breaks my heart everyday.
Phone calls go unreturned
and text messages go unanswered.
This life is a disease and depression is like cancer.
I just wish I could have you back again.
But you're gone, I guess for good.
So it seems to my efforts are worth nothing anymore.
I hate to see the tides of failed attempts at empathy
turn you into someone who doesn't even know
what color my hair is anymore,
or why my boyfriend and I fight sometimes.
You just don't care.
& you stopped a long time ago.
I just wish it didn't have to be this way,
but I'm tired of trying for a cause
I will never change.
The piece of mind I have donated has gone bankrupt
and I have nothing left to give but my suggestions
Even then, you overlook my efforts
as if they were ants upon your walkway.
I am insignificant and unworthy.
and I have learned, things don't change.