Every time I hear your voice
come to me like static from bad radio,
"You should sleep."
"Why aren't you eating?"
"You do this to yourself..."
I would like to tear through your skin with my fingernails.
"You're only making it worse."
"If you'd only change your attitude..."
makes me want to scream until my throat is raw.
I don't have to be bleeding from my wrists
to be fighting back the consuming numbness
and I wish I could claw at your place in my heart
until it matches the emptiness I feel.
When will you see that it's not for lack of trying
when I am driven to such neglect?
I am succumbing to the hollow pain in my chest.

Her body is an empty canvas,
and Oh God, how I anticipate
the red streaks my brush will leave
as it carves intricate patterns
on her pale flesh.

Her body is my canvas
and my sick, twisted fantasy -
my inspiration.

Her body is a canvas
and her screams the soundtrack
as I create a masterpiece
under the steely glint
of my art studio.

Her body was a canvas,
now a beautiful work of art
to add to my growing collection

of still life.

I've long stopped wondering
why you don't answer.
There's a part of me
(an arguably stupid part)
that still wants to hear your voice.
Some days I catch myself
staring at the phone –
Listening and Waiting -
or looking for the postman –
Watching and Waiting -
with great anticipation
for an answer from you.
I know you won't call
and you probably haven't read
a single one of the many letters I've sent.
Still, I will patiently and loyally wait
for the phone to ring,
with your number glowing
on the caller ID screen,
or for a letter to appear,
with your messy handwriting
scrawling my name across an envelope.

Wings beating at the air,
Pushing bodies from the ground,
Intrigued me as a child.
Birds
   Bats
      Angels
         Dragons
    Other winged creatures
Beckoned me to join them
Through pages and fairy tales I held dear.
I wanted to be like them;
To have wings and fly
To places only imagined.
But life is cruel,
And I got my reality check
Sooner than I was ready to let go.
I know now
That Humans will never fly
    With wings of bone
        And skin
            And feathers.
I am forever bound to the Earth,
This place.
                  And yet…
                                   I still dream.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.
        (and it’s been longer
        since I’ve been able to think about you
        without breaking down.)
I didn’t think you’d be here,
much less talk to me.
        (Worth your time now, am I?)
It’s nice to see you; I’ve noticed you’ve put on some weight,
but that smile of yours
        (the one that I love)
hasn’t changed a bit.

How have you been?
Ah, still dating him, eh?
        (and you still hang all over him,
        God that used to **** me off.)
That’s good, I suppose…
        (seeing how you left me for him, he’d better have ******* stuck around)
You two were an unlikely pair
        (I never told you what he said that night
        two months before he starting dating you)
but I guess that doesn’t matter anymore.

Do you have any close friends anymore?
        (anyone who can keep your secrets as well as I did?)
        (or did you desert everyone like you deserted me,
        too caught up in “love” to bother with anyone else?)
And tell me, do you believe that you’re beautiful now?
        (Are my words still on your mirror?)
Do you remember those things I used to tell you
to make you smile?
        (Did he ever do that for you?
        Or did he just ******* really well?)

Do you ever think about me?
        (Do you miss what we had?)
        (And does it hurt you as much as it hurts me to remember?
        I hope it does.)
Do you remember that promise you made me,
right before you told me we were over?
        (I was willing to forgive you. I was willing to believe…)
        (if you actually gave a **** about keeping me around.)

You hurt me so much.
        (Why couldn’t we have worked this out?)
        (I really meant so little to you?)

I still love you, you know.
I hate you for what you did to me.
        …I think I miss you.

                *Why couldn’t you have tried a little harder?

It's one of those nights - again.
My hope drips away, but I don't want to
Stop The Bleeding.
A scream claws at my throat
and I drown it down with another shot,
preceded by my medication.
Love Is The Movement
but no one has ever said to me,
“Wake Up, You’re Alive.
We’re On Your Side.”
So I'll fight this on my own
because here's the thing:
I have a whole list of people
who tell me I should just
Pick Up The Phone,
but they don't really understand
this sick obsession of mine.
I'm so tired of all this
pretending-to-care *******
everyone keeps feeding me.
"You Are Not Alone"
is nothing more than another lie.
Sure, I guess for some people
Rescue Is Possible,
but part of me has already died.