Within the rain, the silent song
The gentle beat, the soothing thrum,
I close my eyes to drift away
To find some peace, I cannot stay.
Sweetness and soft, through dreams I stray
In soft grey tones, the cloudy day.

I shake and I tremble
just trying to get my thoughts
in an order that works;
trying to get them
to assemble
in a way that makes
them easier
to understand;
left, right, centre,
nothing is fixed;

so,
the only thing left
is to
leave the thoughts,
make them go away
for a while;
drink,
****,
smoke,
thinking is painful,
numb the ******* pain
for a while

stumbling home
in the evening
with my breath
smelling of cheap beer
and cigarettes;
people worry,
I tell them not to;
I do this for me,
not for attention
or sympathy,
I do this to feel
more alive,
because I feel so
dead inside
and my thoughts
are racing;
drinking shuts them up
for a couple of hours
and I feel better;
I feel sick,
but I also feel
great,
like I can do anything;
like nothing can hurt me;
is this what death
tastes like?
god,
I hope so

he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.

putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.

who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.

as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.

still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.

I want to be my own universe
Mold the way the stars shine
Allow lost souls to come and be loved
Align the way the moons orbit
Ban bad thoughts that consume the human mind
Bring in the murky milky way
Cut off the toxic air that creates these profound feelings of hatred and sorrow
I want to be my own universe

-Susan