If the road to hell is paved with good intentions,
Then what's the point of having them?

It's not like bad intentions are going to get you
A free, one-way ticket to heaven.

We have to do good deeds,
But easier said than done.

Bad leads to hell, and so does good.
Which means, most humans, if not all,
Are ending up there.

Lucifer and his demon friends
Must be having one hell of a party.
A very crowded one, too.

a chill that you feel in your bones
when you know
how far you'll go
then you hold it in
the familiar feeling
when the cold settles in
and you don't
even know
there is ice on your window

All around us
Shadows on our trail
They seem to be watching
Waiting for our ship to sail

This is the haunting
The haunting has come
We've tried for years
To never succumb

People ask us
what goes wrong
No answer left to give
Because we've used them all

This is the haunting
The haunting has come
Learned to forgive
But never to love

This is the haunting
The haunting has come
This kind of weight-lifting
Can never be done

This is the haunting
The haunting has come
Nowhere to hide
Even less to run

I want to get out.
Out of this place.
But I can't right now.
I have too much to face.
I want to run.
Run far away.
But there's so much I've done.
So much in the way.
I want to escape.
Escape reality.
Escape everything
That's chasing after me.

when you light a match
watch the flame
burn it black
wisps of smoke
reach your fingers
it's warm
it's exciting
then you put it out
it's still warm
part of it
permanently black
vulnerable
so you let it
crumble

i'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere




Once I lit a match. I wanted to watch the fire. I watched the fire burn the wood and turn it to ash. It was turning black. I saw wisps of smoke curling between my fingers, as the flames got nearer. I could feel the heat. Before I got burnt, I blew out the fire. And the flame was gone, but that black wood, that ash, still remained.
That’s when I had a thought. Maybe that’s what happens when you decide to be bad. When you choose to be evil instead of good. When you give up doing good for doing bad.
Maybe when you make that choice, a fire ignites in you. A fire so bright, you can’t see anything else. But it’s like bliss. Blinding bliss. And you let that fire burn when you continue to be bad. It makes you want to do worse. Because it feels right. It feels like you can finally be seen. But that fire, that flame, it’s burning you, to your core. It turns everything black.
Eventually, you extinguish the fire. You don’t want it anymore. But you don’t know that it might be too late. Your heart, your soul, your mind. It’s all gone. It’s black. It’s ash. It’s a part of you now, a part you can’t get rid of. It’s still there; it won’t just disappear.

Why?
There's nothing good about it.

I can see the way
Your rhymes they play
Your head
You've got that blame
On pause
Now hit repeat
I don't do rhymes
Patterns
Circles
Or anything
That spins my head
Because I get dizzy
And then my head hurts
Then I get awkward
And I don't like it.
Then I get nauseous
And I hate it.
And then someone out there
Decides to hit
Repeat.

"Treat others the way you want to be treated."
.
.
.
.
.
I've been trying for a while now.
I'm very nice.
All the time.
I swear I'm friendly with everyone.
No one's paying much attention.
No one's ever paid attention.
Some people think of me as a pushover now.
.
.
.
.
.
So.
I'll still do it.
I'm going to be nice.
I am nice.
But I'll stop treating them better.
Better than I treat myself.
.
.
.
.
.
That quote's missing something.
It should be more like:
"Treat others the way you want to be treated...but treat yourself more often and better, so you don't end up hating yourself. And everyone around you."
.
.
.
.
.
That's it.
Thank you.

I like the physical
Feeling
of vertigo
and dizziness
reeling
back
from blurry
ceilings
and voices
I can't
keep
around me
revealing
lines on
my wrists
with excuses
I can't sleep
I like the physical
feeling
of blood
on my skin
reeling
back
with pleasure
and sin
revelling
in the
metallic
taste
the peeling
back of
layers
with haste
The physical
feeling
of pain
that is
leaving
is beyond
those who
want to
keep
living

I'm in too deep.
I can't touch the bottom with my feet.
But I'm not drowning,
I'm sinking in peace.

I'm in too deep.
I can't see what's around me.
I'm hidden in the folds
Of a deep blue sea.

I'm in too deep.
I can't hear the thrashing sea.
I'm just lost,
In the darkness around me.

if the clothes hanging in my closet
start getting bigger
i know
i'm either eating too much
or hiding under sweaters

if they all turn from black to white
i feel like I'm asking for attention
i look in the mirror
and force my smile away
"don't get ahead of yourself
you're losing direction"

i need to feel bad about myself
to get the right motivation
hide under sweaters
that shield me from affection

I have all these scenarios playing out in my head
Because I keep wondering what life would be like instead
Of waiting for the future, I imagine it myself
Cause I know, life won't turn out as I hoped
They'll fall apart
I'll fall with them
These images in my head will fade
None of them will be real
All these scenarios
Will only ever remain
As words.

I'm as whole as my heart,
Even if it's frozen.
But I've got cracks on my surface.
That show you I'm broken.

But broken ice is still cold,
So broken people can be too.

I look up at the clock
I look back down
The page is blank
But the words flow out

I start to write
I start to worry
Time is running out
I can't breathe

Clawed hands reach out
They fit 'round my neck
They suffocate me
Until I'm out of breath

The claws push me back
And now I'm in the dark
I'm trapped in a box
Like a work of art

I breathe in dirt
Now I'm underground
Six feet under
Barely making a sound

"Let me out"
I hopelessly scream
"Let me breathe
Please hear me"

It's silent now
I've stopped trying
But I hear a whisper
Relentlessly saying

"Roses are red
Violets are blue
I got buried
So should you"

I'll keep the bodies in boxes
I'll keep the emotions in bottles
They're bound to be found,
One day.
Until then I'll hide them.
Keep them safe.
In case if I need them later.
But the bottles will crack.
They'll be found.
They'll be seen.
Loud and clear.
Like, little bursts of explosions,
And no explosion is ever good.

Why
Does living need to hurt?
I thought God was kind.
Were they all lies?
We might just be blind.

Oh wait,
I don't even believe
In him; it isn't real.

If it was, we would all
Be fine.

I pray.