Im shivering.
******* cold, again.
Insomnia and two hundred dollars
In meds that don't even ******* help.
It's no wonder why I'm sick
When my body and mind rejects anything
That's set firmly in reality.

Glamour cuts
Are not comparable to love
And
Silver isnt sweet.

I wish I could sleep
Through trauma.
Go into shock
Like the tv talks about.
Repress reality
Like how I dealt with the past.
Anything really
Just to forget sound
And sensation.

Colours pop
And seep too far into my head
Nauseous blues and greens and reds
Tangle thought
And sit in my stomach like lead

Why
   the
      ****
     Is
   it
So
   Wrong
       To
Feel.

We came with the rain,
Down the boulevard-
It's safe to say this year was pretty hard
We buried sons with stars
And my Grannie
In baby blue pjs
With Uno cards.

"why do you have so many cuts?"
i throw things.
i clutch my chest.
because nothing ever matches this,
nothing ever does!

I hate when my
Disorders
Are an inconvenience to others.
I'm sick.
And really sick of
”Ruining another night”
Just because I can't hold my **** together.

I can't say his name without a smoke.
It tastes like ash.
I feel sick.
I wish I could write again.

I will always love
And I will always be taken advantage of
I've got problems with the moon
But I might be over it soon
And over you, too.

How he'll never cut again
And how the light somehow seeks people out.
Makes them stronger.
Tastes not of alcohol,
Or sweat drenched nights
”this is ****.”
I turned off my laptop
And smoked another bowl in the dark.

I like knowing that your back
Is still marked with the memory
Of my nails
And that your new girl can't compete
With the things I used to do.

Sometimes
the only poetic thing
I can think
is
'I
miss
home. '

When I was little, I taught myself to read
While my dad smoked crack.
My parents beat the **** out of each other,
And my sister tried to
**** me.
My mom was drowning
In debt and *****.
We were lucky if the power was on.
Tess held knives to my throat.
Someone stole the little bit of innocence I had left.
I had to grow up
but I couldn't get away.

I used you.
You were just a ****
I pulled you along by the hair
Of your hope
And whispered nice things
To make you trust me-
To make you ******* bleed.
**You can bet I ******* loved you.

Things follow me.
They stride across
Layers
And sit down
As if for tea.
Always in silence,
Always dark.
They buzz in my head
And tickle the edge of my mind.
I hate them.

I can't breathe very well.
And I always have to keep an inhaler
Just in case.
It's funny
Because I can never tell if it's depression
Or asthma
That tightens my chest.

My father likes to text me
When he's all ****** up.
He likes to blame me
And tell me I'm just
Trash.
That he wishes I was dead.
That I did this to myself
To take it out on him.
I smile now. And silence my phone.

For a few years
I could whisper into dreams
And haunt whoever I could think of.

My eyes
Are the warm blue-grey of
The moments just before
My beloved Wisconsin sunrise
My veins, just below scared skin
Burn for a breeze
And a day that doesn't feel
Like an old painful memory.
I want to be on my motorcycle.
I want the hazardous road unraveling
Right behind me
Away from that sunrise
Away from the people
Written in my scars.

”Tell me how you feel,”*
And I didn't say a thing.

My outlook on life
Is getting annoying,
Even for me.
It's so stupid to live in the past,
Or the moment.
I want to live somewhere
Silent
And sacred.

I still remember
My face against the carpet-
The exact ******* feel of it
Followed by pain.

I wish my breath was anthrax
So I could **** with just the air.
I wish I didn't feel so much,
I wish my mind was bare.

If I wake up
Still drunk
With bitter lips
And a heart half sunk
then maybe im still on the
Ship with you that sailed.

I remember
The cold, so much deeper than my bones.
And gasping for my last handful of
Breaths
The way everything dimmed.
And the lights filled my vision.
Still, no fear-
Just patience and
Resignation.

I think you're funny
In ways only madness knows.
Your ego is a fizzy childs drink,
With all of its frivolity.

He said hello.
I licked my lips,
Smiled.
Had to put in effort not to
wrinkle my nose.
I'm good at sniffing out junkies.
Their drugs leave scents
And tastes in my air.

I cried today,
For a good hour
Because my dear
Sweet layers have
Abandoned me.

Depression feels like
The closest thing to home
Ive got.
It's the only thing
That stays.

I like kissing
Because I can close my eyes
And pretend those lips are anyones.
I can loose myself
And capture someone
At the same time.
It's the easiest way
To show off
Just how full of steel
My smiles are,
And how something as little as
Lips brushing
Could remind you of home
or the latin root of
Nostalgia.
I can give someone a hint
Of my hurt
Through a tiny nibble;
Or make us both crave something more
And less simultaneously.

bury me
somewhere
ive never seen.

I think a lot
About the word 'nostalgia'
As my body becomes a sore
And my mind-
Well, it gets a little more than lost
Within the
Shadow of
Old
Wounds.

I always smelled of lavender and smoke.
It used to linger on your sheets,
Driving you mad.
"I need you"
Id laugh and oblige,
Until the winter ended and
You didn't want my ice.
I bet I still haunt you in the spring,
When the air is sudenly rich with lavender and smoke.

I am venom,
But you are grace.
We are toxins poured to dissipate
In false begotten fate.

My anxiety
Makes children into
Lions,
They smile through
Bloodied teeth.
I won't leave my room.

I only like my lip ring
Because it makes me feel
Like words are constantly
On the edge of my mouth-
Sometimes warm,
And sometimes so cold
I shiver.

I used to play make-believe
And whirl around your house
doing dishes,
Cleaning up our bottles,
Scrubbing floors.
When I was done
I'd smile big
And tell you
How much I couldn't stand you
Unless our clothes were off.