She will not speak to you of darkness,
she'll keep her sickness hidden well
a painted smile on filthy carcass,
a secret sworn to never tell.

She loves you though her heart abhors it,
she wrestles with her troubled mind
and hopes that in her broken spirit
a grain of beauty you may find.

She knows that when you see her closely
your heart will flee to others arms
for there can be no swift repairing
of wounds torn deep by lovers harm.

It's been a while now since,
Whatever we are whenever we are together,
Disappeared, again.
There are no side things this time.
No plan B.
My life is a lot more empty, yes,
indeed.

It's not that complicated,
though my cursed mind must make it so,
It's easy now, being numb, being blank,
Like exhaling after a long deep breath,
at some point it feels like you are drowning underneath
a dry vacuum and still you keep releasing,
'till you don't feel anything
at all.
Tabula Rasa,
baby boo dearest,
how slowly you made me fall.
To a blank slate,
Rising up upon my former fate,
like a black curtain call.
Blissful. No.
Comfortable like,
going back into the womb,
surrounded, worriless,
in a fetal state.
Thank you for everything,
I said.
Not replying,
Was simply your colored place.

Doubt settles.
Internal voices
vicious, vindictive,
confirm contempt.
Laying low,
silently shaking,
catching breaths
beneath the fallout.
Darkness decends,
it's chill envelops
as hope dies eternal
my demise it's final joy.

Brushed aside
unimportant
all emotion
laying dormant
Needing someone,
showing weakness
bow my head
to plead forgiveness.
Fools believe
that they could matter
fragile hearts
lay broken, scattered.
Twist the knife
then turn the page
too tired for sleep
too numb for rage.
Self hatred wins
the sweet redeemer
as lies unfold
to scar the dreamer.

Crank up the music
Rock on

Move around
Don't be afraid

It's okay to cry
When there's no more rain

Some few things you should know about me
if ever I manage to capture your love.

To me, there is no such thing as casual ***
nor casual relationships, nor casual love.

It may not seem like that on the surface,
I may be able to act the part of what society
has told you to expect of a man...boy...thing.

But in truth I sit awake writing about everything
that touches me so deeply that it hurts.

Things that make me happy come with a price
called guilt, and that guilt drives me to abandon.

Stupid reasons and stupid logic born from
things done and almost done that I watched
so detached from myself that I couldn't believe it was real.

If you love me, don't ever tell me
don't do that to yourself.