the most self-destructive thing i have ever done
wasn't the red slashes on my arms
or my bruised knuckles and broken walls,
it was the moment i made someone my happiness
and my beacon of light.

When he tells you he loves you and that you mean the world to him, dont believe him. Tell him that cliche phrase "actions speak louder than words." Because in all reality, it's the truth. He needs to prove it. He needs to show you just how much you mean to him. Whether it's driving to your house at 2 a.m. to hug you and tell you he was thinking about you, or even just a late night phone call. If he doesn't kiss you and tell you that his stomach burns with passion and he needs more, or even just simply pull you closer, kissing you more, he doesn't love you. He shouldn't get tired of your touch. If he can't sit in a room with you in pajamas and your hair up, with no make up on, just watching a movie or discussing life, he doesn't love you. He needs to be able to show his feelings without having to feel you physically. If he can't look at you and smile because you're smiling, he doesn't love you. He should adore every last piece of you and not want anything else. He needs to portray his love to you in more than one way, and you shouldn't settle for any less than that.

He clenched it tightly
He'd only used it once
"You have to pull the trigger first son, and BANG BANG BANG!
You can **** anything!"
With intense intent on his mind
His verge for vengeance grew within, now it's time
To show the bullies how he feels

He glared at them with and intensity
of a malicious lion gazing at prey.
They stared at him back,
paralyzed and gaping,
surprised, scared, shivering at the sudden ominous
cloud around this figure that once shook with
the demons that clawed at his being every minute of the day.

Teachers deigned to his prowess
Consoling him not to shoot
He glanced at that kid who kicked him, sneered at how stupid he is.
He screamed with angst, blood streaming though his fingers.
Trickled to pull the trigger, this is now or never.

Suddenly,
a whimper. He glances away quickly to see
his little sister's eyes swim with murky waters.
"danny..."
He looks away.
Then, shoots.
one,
two,
three,
four,
five.
He smiles,
watches the chaos erupt the way his mind does every night,
stares at the crimson velvet beginning to crawl out of the bodies as the ragdolls crowed with terror of the dead,
ghastly large eyes , desperately hollow,
wanting only the warmth escaping.

He feels alive, for the first time he's the fire to ignite the dark
Burning everything within his grasp,
Dictating any norm in his way.
The silence preaching him, Feeling remorse of that obscure stance.
He ruptured every enmity that denotes innocence. Screaming, "WHY DO I STILL FEEL SO ******* EMPTY!!??"

blue, the words stick to me like glue and your name is stuck to me too. i once flew but i have broken my wings and landed on a blue sanded beach. every time i close my eyes there is blue and its all i knew…… but then there was you. while i feel like there is internal pressure looking for an escape the blow would decimate. i have become used to the blue and it WAS all i knew but then i met you. when i close my eyes UESED to see was blue but now i see you. I’m not sure if what i feel is real but I’m not about to end all that could get me off this bent blue hell. there is nothing more that i would rather do than leave pain and stress behind in the blue sand. before i leave this blue hell i need to know if this is true or fake and only time will tell. i won’t dismiss this possible miracle but my sanity depends on the nature of this life.

if I should sleep with a lady called death
get another man with firmer lips
to take your new mouth in his teeth
(hips pumping pleasure into hips).

Seeing how the limp huddling string
of your smile over his body squirms
kissingly, I will bring you  every spring
handfuls of little normal worms.

Dress deftly your flesh in stupid stuffs,
phrase the immense weapon of your hair.
Understanding why his eye laughs,
I will bring you every year

something which is worth the whole,
an inch of nothing for your soul.

Five A.M.
I wake up gasping
Crying, Shaking
nightmares

You
I was talking to you
For the first time in a while
nightmares

That wasn't so bad
But then you told me
You hated me
nightmares

No, no.
I couldn't take that
I woke up sobbing
nightmares

Five thirty A.M.
Writing this down
So maybe, I won't have more
nightmares?