if it would put you at ease,
I will strip myself down,
baptize myself in your sea,
by your hands I will drown.

if it would quiet your mind,
I’ll sew my own mouth closed.
actions grow louder with time,
hollow intentions disposed.

you are the air in my lungs,
the god to which I pray
the religion on my tongue
I return to each day.

save me from a life without you,
give me a love that will consume.

from time to time I pull on the shades,
roses for dulling the pain.
but I return to piecing the mirror back again
each hoping the reflection won't be the same.
you stand in the kitchen, clutching coffee and *****.
try to drink the ache away.
you can't quite identify the void that's carved inside
but this has become the routine of your days.

with only two hours left to sleep
your dreams followed you through opening of eyes
and you made your home inside the haze.
words burn in the chamber of smoke
as faces fade with the pink shade.
you find yourself at the window once again
wondering what it's like to fly.
you and I know the only freedom we can hold
is the release int he act to die.

six feet under you hold me down.
I'm left confused, dressed in blacks and blues.
keeping a palmful of ground
so while they see that it's only me
I'll always have you around.

homes built on gray space
balancing on lover’s grace
I retract and confine,
soothed by the mercy of time.
they have their marching orders
and their detached constraints.
the shattered stained glass ceilings
portray them all as saints.

I painted you in gold,
your crown was set in stone.
cracks collected in silence,
crumbling once alone.

It has been 10 years since I’ve first seen your face
and, around your ankles, the weight of  generations
of blood that bit their tongues behind silent lips.
It has been 10 years since I accepted that I was
never going to be just as ‘happy’ as other girls,
I was an observer behind the windows when all
I really wanted was to go out and play.
I hated you—no, I loathed you--but that could not
be true because you didn’t let me come close
to feeling so human. You stole birthday parties from me,
you stole my mornings as I laid in bed, unable to
move, crushed down by the burden of you.

It has been 8 years since I detached myself from
this body, when I decided nothing could destroy me
quite like you. I threw myself from tall buildings,
hoping that someone would care enough to catch me.
The ground hurt worse and worse each time.
You taught me that being suicidal does not have to be
an active effort. That its undertones lie in the
carelessness of crossing the street without looking,
That it is in the silence of distancing myself from
every friend I had because ‘it just makes it easier’ if I was alone.

It has been 4 years since I allowed myself to admit
that I simply could not carry your body alone.
I refused to be ashamed of you because you
were never my choice. I can still remember the
way my mother’s eyes rimmed with tears as she
realized just how long you have been residing in this
household.  Since that day, you began fade. You disappeared
the way the monsters under the bed retreat from
the flashlight. Your presence was much more overbearing
breathing down my neck than when I looked you in the face.
But even now, sometimes I find your fingerprints pressed
against my window, and your glazed eyes gazing back
at me in the mirror.

There is no way you could love me if you knew me.
It is not possible to be so self-inflicted
These wounds you dig yourself
But your blood is under my nails.
There is no way you could love me
Love this disease that is in my head
Selfish, consumingly distain my mind
Don’t kiss my scars
You’re only opening them again
Don’t tell me they will heal
Because time has never been my friend.
Don’t love me.
Don’t destroy yourself like this.
Don’t let me do this to you.
Leave while there is still color in your mornings
And cramping smiles in company.
Leave while you can still taste food
While you still have a reason to be awake.
Don’t let me ruin you.

I am depression.
Depression is me
and I am the one I am fighting.
I am the one that tears my mind
apart, that rapes the insides for every
vulnerable and clean vessel left.

I am used.
I am *****.
I am not worthy of a kind touch
I do not want a kind touch
I don't not want help
don't cry, don't say you love me
don't make me want this again.

I am tired.
I am hateful and jaded
but that all ties to the hurt that
I've been masking for years.
And now I just can't make the
effort to hide anymore.

I am so sorry
to the five year old girl
with big blue eyes and
too short bangs who thought
that dad could scare off the monsters.
But they still escaped the closet.

I am so sorry, dad,
I know you didn't want
your little girl to go through this
to feel this disease that has contaminated
this bloodline. And I am sorry of all
the future plans I might rob you of.

I am so sorry for wasting potential.
I am the girl who cried wolf
but I have been dead for quite some time.

i dreamt of you last night

there we stood, at the campground
separated by the delicate ties
woven together in the intricate web
that brought us together in the first place.
we had to act as strangers even though
i know more about you than your
best friend,who stood three feet away.
couldn't meet my eyes to risk familiarity.

even my dreams know
we can't be together.

take me fast in rolling gusts
and pull me underneath.
I ate your words as you fed
them to me. but they all
caught between my teeth.

daylight speaks through somber teeth,
detrimental deeds hang on its back.
carve the words stuck on your cheek,
let winter crush all that we once had.
wasted, losing time.
I lost what was mine.
I’m sorry I let it smother our light.
I’m sorry I didn’t put up a fight.
my limbs hang bare, like trees;
I’ve given you all of me.
like the cold, you are life’s demise.
maybe I should have stayed inside.

I’m not sure where this path will go
but I will cling to this chosen road.
there’s no turning back now
the bed is made and the secret’s out.

I feel detached every now and then
that my life is some work of fiction.
the written ink is bleeding through
pages torn, my spine in two.

I can’t breath now,
walls are closing on me now.
whiplash of the ups and downs
take a toll on my mind.

if I draw first
it’ll be on my own terms.
kiss cheeks with the traitors
that were friends of mine.

watch as their words break
shattered mask they made
revealing the teeth of snakes,
hidden the whole time.

the next steps are predictable
cut hair and written notes.
medication to concentrate, but
with broken means there’s none to make.

I can’t breath now,
my chest caved on me now.
they tell me to calm down
but I’ve lost my place.
can you find me a center?
stone to place my feet first
before I slip even further
to the ‘no escape’.

will this fade with age?
cover the walls with paint
that were stained in blood?
from the second that I was born
my lungs cried with remorse
of the sentence begun.
but now no one’s by my side.

will you know when the deed is done?
my name a whisper off strangers’ tongues.
there’s no turning back now
the bed is made and the secret’s out.

I think I'm becoming a sociopath.
I know I should be scared
but I'm not.
I can't feel anything.

i'm washed up
overrated
hateful and mean.
i'm in love with
my own misery
that i would ever be
with anyone else.

sorry to let you down.

"I hate you."
That phrase hung there in the bone chilling air.
To me, the weight had lifted.
Or more like I finally heaved the overbearing
luggage, twisting my spine
or finally decided the horse was, in fact, dead.
But I saw the effect in his eyes.
And I feel disgusting for saying that I felt
the light fingertips of happiness for the first time in a while.
To finally awake the slightest remnant of emotion out of him.

"You don't mean that"
It played more as a plea than a statement.

"I do," I laughed.
I laughed out of relief.
Out of embarrassment of allowing abuse in my life
once again. But this time it was not with the strike
of the hand, but of the sharp blades of words
and the blunt impact of neglect.
He then asked, "Then why are you here?"

Laughing through tears,
"Because I have no one else; I'm stuck with you.
I not only destroyed myself but every other
relationship I had with people just so
I could hold your attention.
But I'm not your child and I shouldn't have to beg
when sixteen months ago, you couldn't keep your eyes off me.
But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is that I only want you.
No one else.
And you destroyed any chances of me trusting you."

the paper blank
there's nothing left to say

To hear your two syllables
Fall off the lips of the person
Beside me.
To brace myself
And not to wince
Of the name from which I’m hiding.
I buried the thought
Of you away
In the corners of my mind
As the sound of your voice
Begins to fade
In the collection of time.
And with that name
She gave you life
Brought you from the grave.
I once again must find a way
To bury your thought
Back where it should have stayed.

touch my skin, don’t read my mind
disappears before it’s gone.
burn the bridges down
ruins swept and gone.

share my skin and not my mind,
tape has played and gone,
there is nothing left to play
script was said and done.

books stacked high, loaded gun
sweet ****** taste starts to run.
I like the haze and the smell of sin
there was no difference where you’re gone.

black lace dance around my hips
intoxicated lips, I’m crazy.
whiskey drown my lungs to sleep
sink your words into the deep
I’m ******* crazy.

you’re dark, you’re smoke, you’re night
immersed in your own sad life
you’re ******* crazy.

touch my skin, don’t read my mind,
disappears before it’s done.
burn the bridges down
I’ll build another anyhow.

share my skin and not my mind,
tape has played and gone,
there is nothing left to play
I feel you leaving now.

I'm going to be that lame person that asks you to follow their Tumblr.

so here ya go: http://typewriterbleeding.tumblr.com
please and thank you xoxo

"it is better to have loved
and lost" as they would like to say
but no wise words can stop the ache
this aggravating pain.

to not have loved would be to not have known
what could be taken away.
not to long for his movement, his touch
the smile that spreads across his face.

"it is better to have loved and lost"
but i have lost everything.
except his picture in my mind
that visits in my dreams.

held between fingertips, the sand sinks
through the cracks, funneling till absent.
but I can still feel the rush of grain,
the colliding of corners and burning
friction. I can still feel the weight,
the obligation of its existence
long after it retreated into the abyss.
I lit the last match just to watch it
burn. the last hopes escaping into the
air, never to comeback. a chemical change
cannot be undone. a chemical imbalance
they told me. the happiness disappeared,
only with blue and yellow lights to
dance around my frontal lobes. physically
incapable of joy, I sit here, watching the
old memories fade, replaced by darkness
I, here, holding the ashes.

touch his lips
flesh underneath my fingertips.
diving into blue waters
lit by stars that guide the way.

kiss and touch flow together
with the hours spent in bed
and the days scarred forever in my mind.

to have lost, to watch
you leave my room one last time.
the sunlight followed.

now you’re just a reflection, the anxious
itch of addiction, the exhausted ache of
alcohol drowning my veins into a subdued
state. you are the moaning of each muscle,
reminding me of how difficult it is to simply exist.
you are the inferno engulfing my chest as
bourbon fuels the flames of the hell that
I am. you are the angry, crimson cuts collecting
over my arms and legs because physical pain
is so much easier than the empty bed you
left behind. you are the approaching decision
of whether to sink or swim. and I am so scared
of choosing either one.

I feel that I have lived much longer than I was supposed to. The seconds draw their claws on the chalkboard slowly, slowly, slowly... The razorblade separates the skin, the familiar inferno engulfing my body. The familiar deafening heart throb as I lay in the pool of my own emptiness, my regret. The shame of returning to the old habit. I did not count the pills, the tears did not allow sight. But a palmful later, I found myself on the ground, curled up with him. Potential has always been my greatest enemy. I have been running from him my whole life. I've been trying to drown out his screams. It was a good game.

you are fall
you are the absence of warmth on early morning with sleep in my eyes
the teasing sunshine that makes rare appearances
the gray from my lips as I let go of unspoken words.
when you come, I have to hide more of myself.
exposing myself to you has grown so uncomfortable.

you let everything die
and not in the merciful manner of winter, not swiftly,
but drawn out.
early nights and denial of light
I find myself always wondering the alleyways alone.
death has never been so beautifully colored
I have never dreaded October so much.

to wake up to your voice
and to kiss the morning’s
first breath from your lips.
to feel your skin, like crushed
velvet, gliding against mine
under covers, softly lit by
the new day. to remember
your words, to take them
and keep them like a
photograph to take me back
to Saturday mornings with you.

I'm sorry
that I thought
you liked me
when I was laying
on the ground
and you kissed me.

My bad.

let the edges blur,
easier to see
muted silhouettes
with your amber hair.

your words, once easy
to swallow when you
stained my lips crimson,
leave a bitter taste.

like the aching in
my outstretched arms,
clung to expectation,
fallen in defeat.

Every time I try to construct the perfect opening line, my mouth floods with venom. Nails clawing my palms to remind myself to keep composure, not to inflict unfixable damage.
I don't know if we have ended. I don't know what we are. But I know I am no longer in your thoughts. No longer in your words or your smile. I know you no longer have room for me.
And I know how you see me. You think I'm a mess. That I can't stay sober because of my boredom. That I push others away by taking them for granted. That I took you for granted.
But you don't know me and I no longer know you. And you say that you don't judge but I can feel it every time I speak to you. And it's probably my own reflection.
It kills me that I don't know you anymore. It kills me that we no longer text each other until the first hours of the morning. That I no longer see you and that you no longer care. I can't stay sober because there is no happiness anymore. Because I would give anything to forget the reality in this situation. I push people away because what's the point when even my closest friend doesn't have room for me in his  life anymore. When we spent six years building this relationship only to be standing in ruins. I no longer live because I am haunted daily.
You said you've changed. So has everything. You like yourself now and I'm really trying to be happy for you. You have so much going for you that I understand how my absence doesn't phase you. But it was the old you I fell in love with. It is the old you that I long for, that I miss with my entire being.
But to read your words that those six years together had been a waste, that even to you, I am the villain, cuts deeper than any blade across my skin.
That's life.
And I genuinely hope you are happy.

it was not in the high E's or the low G's
stretched across the wire string,
not in the fluid movement of dance
crowding the open spaces.
not in the light laughter or
in the simple words coming from
simple mouths with simple, detached
minds. not in the meaningless touch
of the stranger next to me
or in the breath burning my neck.

we made beauty out of silence
appreciated the smooth ring of emptiness,
the raw obligation of space.
the thousand words of a glance,
the gentle touch of your eyes.
the immaculate hold of tears
and uncomfortable truths.
the shelter in sleepless nights
and the strength of withdrawals.
the few moments of being with
the one that defines your life
is the beauty I have seen.

I'm not asking for them to care.
I'm not asking for any of you to care.
I just want them to let me decide
when and how I should die.

The bullet cracks your teeth, your tongue burns against
the hot metal, cooled down by detached touches and
mute denial. I have never felt such pain as when you painted
my cheeks with your fingertips. The blood still stains your hands.

I hear autumn calling me and I wish to go her way, however
though miles away your hands still hold my waist, asking me
to stay. My mother always said the devil was near.
I never expected him to have such blue eyes.

No amount of bourbon could erase the scars your
lips left behind. No matter how many words pile
on top of each other, your voice remains clear.
And even when I sunk into my old habit, he wasn’t you.

September has always been kind to me.
But this year seems so cold. The miles stretch
me thin. I feel myself drowning, they are saying I can only save myself.
But I still find myself here, drinking the sea.

that boy carried my bones into the night
his face lit by street lights, words growing like forests
but these trees cannot grow while in the dark
so undo his shirt and take off the mask
only space filled by the breaths that depart.

he knew what he was doing, confusing my mind
cut the corners so I’m subdued to silence.
wide-eyed, just how you like me.

well, these brittle bones can’t seem
to twist and contort to your dreams,
your whims have their own motive
as your gentle touch seals me in secrecy.

we both know that I’m not your lover,
just caught in a fever I can’t defeat.
your company under the covers,
left with the memory of your touch
and smell of your sheets.

I saw the way it lit your eyes.
Since childhood the thrill of
melting wax and hissing fuse
spurred such excitement for
being alive.

I hope it hurts
that it’s my hand
that claws your throat
whenever you kiss her.

drag yourself
across the shards
the fragments that reflect
the hollowness we are.

let it hang
a fractured breath in the air
that is not quite there
something vague.

I find myself longing for my faith. But nothing can make me believe in a God anymore, or even want to worship him.

2. I guess I just miss being naïve.

3. Sleeping pills.

4. Finding out that taking too much Lexapro makes me throw up for hours on end.

5. Finding out that taking more Lexapro won't make the sadness go away. It sits in the corner, waiting for me to come running back to it.

6. I run.

7. I'm scared.

8. I'm scared of death.

9. I'm scared of living.

10. I'm stuck.

11. I've allowed myself to think about your death. I've been in denial for so long...I guess I was just waiting to see you in the crowd one day.

12. Dying does not make you a ******* saint.

13. I want to cut again. I miss it more than anything. But I can't handle disappointing my parents.

14. I feel bad for my suicide attempt. I'm disgusted with myself that I made my family go through that. But I am a selfish person.

15. I am so alone.

sinfullykillingmockingbirds.tumblr.com

“When I was younger, I thought all I wanted was to be alone. Cramped in that two-bedroom house with my parents and siblings, with no space to think or to even take a **** without someone knocking on the door. I wanted to go to college just because I thought I needed space–space to breathe and to become my own person.”

“And now?” Mallory asked. Each word that left her mouth wrote itself across the pitch black of December and I stared at each letter until I could not only make sense of the question, but to realize the answer.

“And now I realize that my own person is someone that I don’t like very much.”

The words were as unkind slipping off my tongue as they were sitting in the back of my mind. Now they’ve materialized, holding an undeniable presence and their heavy aftertaste made my stomach turn.

I don’t know if I was looking for sympathy. If I was waiting for her to reassure that I was in fact not a terrible human being. That her company is not a polite obligation. But she sat there saying nothing, and that was louder than anything she could have said out loud. I looked to my right, at the woman I wordlessly fell in love with. Her blank stare into the dimly lit street below pushing me farther and farther away and suddenly I felt the need to say anything to anchor me to her before she drifted too far away.

“I left. And I get that it was my choice, but there was no way I could be satisfied staying in this town for the rest of my life like everyone else. Moving to a city where I knew absolutely no one; it was a change. I went from speaking to the same people everyday for four years to not saying a single word for multiple days in a row. I couldn’t be gentle anymore; I couldn’t be vulnerable. And if that makes me a bad person, then I guess I am. But I did it to survive. You can’t criticize me for my methods to survive knowing you.”

Skin clung around my bones like an itchy sweater. Nerves on fire with anticipation. I have been around myself long enough to know I cannot be alone much longer. Drowned in emotions too often to know that this dull indifference is just the calm before the storm.
You have robbed me of everything. Of my best friend, of my family, of my faith and trust, of love. And now you have thieved me of my emotions. I am an empty shell, body aching from longing. I do not want to cry because I am not sad. I do not wish to yell because I am not angry. Yet I cannot smile because I am neither happy. I do not speak because I have no words to say to you. I wasted them begging you not to leave the first time.
I am unsure if this is of content, for I've never experienced it. All I know is nothing scares me more than myself. What I am capable of doing when I have nothing to lose when the storm arrives.

“I hate when people ask what I am thinking. I never really know how to answer that question because, quite frankly, I don’t even know. Over the years my mind has seemed to transform into this hive, thoughts flying around in a gray cloud, each one having their own separate buzz. And all of these sounds fuse together into one confusing and paralyzing hum to where I can’t identify a single thought. So I don’t know how to answer the question as to what I am thinking because there are so many thoughts crawling on top of each other to get out. And so I choose to just be silent. Being silent is just so much easier.”
I looked up at the man. He appeared to be only a few years older than me, maybe in his mid-twenties. His hair, dishwater blonde, was swept to the side, the kind of style fraternity boys at my previous school used to always wear when they had to dress up for chapter. His eyes were so vividly blue. Every time that he looked at me I would stay still, purely out of fear that he found me transparent.
But he had an amused grin spreading across his face, dimples carving into his cheeks. It was a common smile of his: one not of understanding, but of assumption. “And what are you thinking of right now?” Dr. Smith asked.
I rolled my eyes, accidentally releasing two unknown tears that rimmed my lash line. I met his eyes, gritting my teeth. “You’re not listening.”

I want love
to reach his fingers
around my heart
wretch it
enclose it with passion.

I want love
to knock the breath out of me
beat me black and blue
carving me out
til I am empty inside.

I want love
to get up in my face
look me in the eye
tell me the truth
in every way.

I want love
to twist his knife
inside of me
look at me lifelessly
and leave me there to die.

I want love
to turn around one more time
pay respects
to his old friend
and tell her she is free once again.

green leaves and the smell of summer sun
through the woods, as fast as we could run
count the stars as they fell one by one.
first time you've heard me laugh.

photographs where your smile touched your ears
such a shame how it faded over the years.
I've never wanted more for you to be near

than when you turned away
and you left me here
the way you said my name
how it cut the ear
the needle received
all of your broken tears
nothing left to do
but wait with my own fears.

I never knew such pain was possible
than to lose all I've been fighting for.

the end of sunlit days
but I can never rest
the taste of *****
salted on my neck.
and I fill my lungs
just to ease the pain
but I've come to learn
that it never goes away.

my mind is troubled by the emptiness,
having only the mess you left behind.
perfect the art of saving what is left,
trying push past the finish line.
I can never seem to burn away the inside
to clean all that you have touched,
erase the stains of your hands, believe me, I’ve tried.
the floods washed away this home,
left me alone with the words
hanging from the ceiling you broke.
I swear I was going to ask you to stay.
it was on my breath when you broke my chest.
wrap up these bones,
they’re no use to you.
splintered, shattered,
like a present.  

how can hate still spit from your lips?

Onetwothreefour
Onetwothreefourfivesixseven
Onetwothreefourfivesi­xseveneight.
Onetwothreefour
Onetwothreefourfivesixseven
Onetwoth­reefourfivesixseveneight.
Onetwothe blinding light.
Bright.
****.
Onetwothreefourfi—ants.
Crawling up and down my spine.
Fire. Electrifying my veins
Ripriprip them out.
Bleed the bad out.
****.
Onetwothreefourfivesixsev
There is no solitude.
There is no true isolation
When every time my eyelids shut
His face is branded on the inside like veins.
Proteins and cells dance together
Into memories far gone and much missed.
One breath in.
If only that would do the trick.
But there is obligation in it.
Follow up required.
Two doctors that told me depression was normal.
Follow ups every week to month
To when the next bad reaction to medication.
Three times I accepted him back into my life.
Why did I let him in again?
The flame of ******* is always to be chased
After the first hit.
Four times
That I actually remember him say
That he loved me.
But it would be zero
As to the number of times he proved so.
Five years since I have been happy.
Or is it more?
I don’t remember anymore.
Six…six…six…
Because I chose to side with the devil
Since God would not love me.
Seven was my lucky number
Until I concluded that
Luck must not run in my family.
Eight. Open.
In.
Onetwothreefour.
Hold. Still.
Onetwothreefourfivesixseven.
Outoutout.
Onetwothreefourfiv­esixseveneight.
Are you okay now?

What a stupid question.

i can breathe the smoke
from your lungs
drink the bourbon
from your tongue.

just promise your hands
will never leave my hips
and to keep kissing laughter
across my lips.

my dear, continue whispering
'i love you' into my hair.
and for it to be your voice
that breaks the morning air.

and if you ever change your mind,
to leave with the next sun,
promise to break my heart gently,
my love, i have only one.

It's gotten to the point where I break down in tears while watching Disney movies. Finally let out but I'm too ashamed to tell them the truth. I just don't have time to deal with my mental illness yet it demands to be felt.

I am the girl who cried wolf.
I am the girl whose current existence is a joke,
a library book over due
a movie being charged day by day for staying
longer than it should have.

People sigh in prologued patience in my company.
No longer of relief.
Biting their tongues, choking the words of confrontation.

I am the girl who is dead inside.
And finally, those words no longer hurt
but now power dances on my fingertips
of nothing left to lose when all has been taken.
Those that cared about me the most
float in the thick water of indifference.
They are waiting for the body
to follow the lead of my soul.

I am the girl whose funeral will be mundane.
When the time comes, and most likely soon,
that I do pull the trigger, silencing my cries.
They will find my body and no tears will be shed.

I've been dead for a long time.

Indulged me in its golden glow,
traced its light across my face,
trailing freckles in its wake.
It hung in the sky for the
world to see, prideful in its praise,
entranced in its illumination,
I strayed, held at a safe distance.
Long hours embraced in your heat,
your company inevitably consuming me.

Hypnotized, I came too close.
The warmth that wrapped
around my skin pulled me in
and now I burn to the touch.
Fever catching like flames,
suddenly I am a wildfire.

The days collect and seasons run.
Your light diminishes to dusk.
Winter creeps into my bones,
gray-scale shaded the home
I once found comfort in. Your love
lingers for shorter hours now,
chasing its shadow on the ground,
I grasp with fingertips as we drift
further and further away.
It leaves me longing for summer days.