like a redheaded tiger
i too have stripes
red ones on my wrists
thighs
forearms

like a tiger
i can stand the fire
red hot welt
on my freckled forearm

like a tiger
i have claws
they are
silver
i cut at
that which harms me -
me

I always say it. "Thank god."

But, here's the thing; I always thought that God would save the helpless, cure the sick and sad. And at least take the pain away.
So many things happened to me throughout my life. I was hopeless. Rumors always seemed to be about me, people lied to me, laughed at me, friends isolated me and left. I was alone at school. At home, my parents always seemed to favor my brother. I would go home, grab a snack, and do my work. Read. The entire time, my mom was drinking, watching tv and occasionally helping my brother impatiently with his homework. My father worked. And he came home late. And he drank.
And they both smoked, but at least they were 'courteous' enough to do it outside.

They did quit the alcohol and the tobacco, but still something was off. My dad lied, still drank, my mothers temper got even shorter. Scream was all she ever did. I loved school, not to learn, but to get away.
It didn't help that I had a disease in my ****** up head. It made it so I was always sad, nothing else. It soon got to be too much.
Earlier this year, April 24, 2013,
Everything was at its worst. I barely had anyone that I could trust. Two friends were there, but they didn't know about me. I was the happy, energetic, bisexual girl who wouldn't shut up. I was strong, made people happy. I was the one who didn't believe in god. If only they knew why.

He never came. I prayed for help. I wanted out. Day in and day out, my mind was on my brother and me. Our lives and how much we wanted...
No...
Needed it to get better.

I trusted him. I did, and I loved him.
Until he abandoned me.

Now, I believe in another. I dont worship, I dont pray, because I know she is with me either way. We have a connection, you see. She just knows. She is always there for anyone. People talk of miracles, and they talk of God, but only hear those stories from the liars, the fakes. Sometimes I will hear genuine stories of God helping them, and I believe them. I just think, "wow, God sure loves them. I hope that they are happy as ****, because I am sure not. "

I dont think God performs miracles. I believe tht the nameless God people speak of is an escape, a heavy fog that falls on reality. I know of so many who are clouded and ignorant because "God says so." God does nothing but hurt people, and he isnt even real. Life is. Energy, the world around us is alive, gives us life. Life herself is what performs miracles. Knowing and using the earth for what its intended for.

I did, and I was better. But still, not completely. People still lied, I was still in pain, I was still a mistake on legs. And I tried.
To all of those suicidal depression peeps of mine, you know what I mean, if not, look back at my poetry, if you know which alternate persona to look at.  
I tried. And the one time I needed God, he wasnt there. But Life, she somehow put a message into a man's head. He wanted to talk to me. And I heard the phone buzz. God cannot do that. People speak of god telling them things, and that is all. No thought other than God and his miracle. But he had no clue until a few months ago.

Thank God that this ****** up world is as it should be! But to tell the truth, I think it needs a bit less sarcasm.

How about DONT thank God because he doesnt do ****. Take it from me.

My entire life, I have been ****** over. My entire life I have hoped and prayed and needed something to happen. My entire life, or since I can remember, I have contemplated suicide, and the one time it might have happened, he wasnt there. But, somehow, you saved me. But the God that you believe in, had no part in it.

Are humans inherently evil?
Does it go right to the core?
Do we always need to prove ourselves?
Do we need to settle the score?
I watched a documentary
With people doing experiments
On other people just like them
Callous with their detriments
The lower class
The prisoners
The foreigners
By practitioners
And now we have this information
Torture, surgery, chemical weaponry
Some classified, some out to view
Is it their duty of citizenry
To share that information with me?
To tell me how and when and why
To share results of tests gone by?
Do I even want to know?
Do not let them die in vain
Maybe I should share the pain
(maybe you should share it too)
To learn
To see
And  
NOT to do

No one understands
the power of pain--
it gives you all the pleasure
It gives them all the shame.
Does it make you feel good?
No one else left to blame.
You can feel your heart pounding
adrenaline in your veins--
all the aspects of death
are one and the same.
An empty soul
without even a name--
Will the pain ever die?
Will emotions ever tame?
Fighting and killing,
it's all one big game--
in a world that only
revolves around pain

i want your love
i want to feel
your heart
on my chest and
you breathing
on my neck i just need
you closer here still
your veins they
pulse with life i
wish we could share
bodies so i could
feel you
from the inside out
not just this entity
the facade of flesh
you put up unwillingly
i want to touch
your soul and make
love to your spirit
be one with your
thoughts
your fingers
trace my spine
your dna mixed
with mine we can
become one
on certain instances
only but it is not
enough i love you
too much for
human things
i am sorry but
i cannot get as close
to you as i would like
your bones got in
my way they were
too hard to break and
i am so weak
i just love you so much
that i need to leave you
i can't have you, i never will

i miss the old wooden swing in my backyard
where i used to sit and think and write for hours

i miss being lazy on the living room couch
and watching cartoons with my youngest brother

i miss sitting in my room, hearing footsteps from the floor above
and being able to know exactly whose they were

i miss waking up late on saturday mornings
to the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen

i miss being able to tell my little sister she looks pretty
every morning before she goes off to school

i miss sitting on my mother's bedroom floor
and listening to her tell stories about Tennessee

i miss hearing my father constantly whistle and sing
while he walked around the house doing different things

i miss living four minutes away from my best friend
and sleeping at her house for days just because i could

i miss talking to my brothers at 2 o'clock in the morning
about absolutely nothing and positively everything

i miss taking pictures of my backyard, even though nothing
about it has really changed in the past twelve years

but i think that i miss home the most at mealtimes

- m.f.