censored by hp

There are times I know not who I be
A stranger, unreasonable I  become,
Little sense in the world around I see.
'Tween love and hate on a pendulum.

There are times I turn away from you,
Question your love, your wise decree,
Eyes wide shut to whatever you do,
Believing  you too have forsaken me.

There are times I doubt, if at all ,you exist,
My heart to darkness a welcome home
Your presence denied, you,  I resist,
Hope burns in doubt's infernal dome.

Love me when I least deserve........when to despair, a host

Hold me God, for it is then ...that I need your love the most.

She lives in a world of lies and shattered pieces
Constantly telling herself that everything will work out
That it will be alright if she can just hold on
When she knows in her broken little soul
That the only thing that will mend is the hearts of those around her

Truly she knows how deadly her mind is to herself
The fake, comforting, band-aid thoughts that fill her with dread
Taking over when she's alone and crying
Those white lies that she almost believed in
The one she almost trusted, stabbing her in the back

The delicate rose inside of her withering away with dehydration
Life being ****** out, replaced by a poison of the worst kind
Doubts filling her head, clouding her judgement
Forcing her to do unforgivable things that she'll never forget
The thorn in her side pushing her again and again

They say you need to bleed to know you're alive
And although she has bled, she's still not sure
Wishing it was all just a nightmare, a lie of a dream
Again with the lies, she'll never get away
She runs and runs but they always follow her

All around her she sees the broken pieces of herself
Reflected back at her sobbing figure through cracked mirrors
Lighting bouncing off and hiding away
Hiding from the girl who sealed her own fate
The girl who knew what she was getting into but couldn't stop

The girl who is me
--

I taste the bitterness
like salt on your lips—
the sadness in your sweat
a single bead that slips with care
down the crescent of your cheek.
The small of your back
is arched and tight
and I read the tension in the
subtle protrusions of your vertebrate
as I climb them with a finger.

You are full of your own miseries,
you sad  and beautiful devil.
You are full of your loves
and your hates.
Your good deeds
and the shadow cast over
them by your mistakes.
I taste them each individually.
I read them in each notch of your spine.
I learn them in every movement and touch
of our solitary dance.

I fear I will be another
for someone else
to understand one day.

I write fiction because I realized
from a young age that
I was a splendid liar,
with these pretty little lies
I ******* all nice and tight.
Slowly they became bigger
as I became bigger
and they became ugly
as I became ugly,
and still they came,
with more momentum now.
They grew thorns, hurting the
people who believed them.
I put them on the paper
so they could look beautiful
again.
Still they were false.
Still they sat in my gut
like an unwanted child,
a weight I couldn't help
but carry.
So here, another lie
for me to tie.
See, see how pretty it is?

I

Not once in all our days of poignant love,
Did I a single instant give to thee
My undivided being wholly free.
Not all thy potent passion could remove
The barrier that loomed between to prove
The full supreme surrendering of me.
Oh, I was beaten, helpless utterly
Against the shadow-fact with which I strove.
For when a cruel power forced me to face
The truth which poisoned our illicit wine,
That even I was faithless to my race
Bleeding beneath the iron hand of thine,
Our union seemed a monstrous thing and base!
I was an outcast from thy world and mine.

II

Adventure-seasoned and storm-buffeted,
I shun all signs of anchorage, because
The zest of life exceeds the bound of laws.
New gales of tropic fury round my head
Break lashing me through hours of soulful dread;
But when the terror thins and, spent, withdraws,
Leaving me wondering awhile, I pause--
But soon again the risky ways I tread!
No rigid road for me, no peace, no rest,
While molten elements run through my blood;
And beauty-burning bodies manifest
Their warm, heart-melting motions to be wooed;
And passion boldly rising in my breast,
Like rivers of the Spring, lets loose its flood.

sometimes i feel as though
my mind was set
to self destruct,
and i just cant seem
to find the switch
to make it stop.
maybe that's because
it's buried beneath
the very thoughts
that set it off.