the thing i like about cigarettes
isn't even the buzz
I just like the feeling of breathing in poison
and blowing it right out

I enjoy seeing the smoke leave me
and float in the air
like a ghost
until it disappears
to me it's beautiful

cigarettes are deadly, but that's something
most people know
but baby my addiction to you is even stronger
bet it will **** me first too

see I can quit cigs and deal with the
headaches and ****
but giving up you is still tearing me apart
shredding my insides

i wish that when i inhaled the poison
that is your breath
it would have been as easy to blow it out
and get rid of it

just like a cigarette though
you've blackened my insides
you darkened my heart
they darkened my lungs
but you didn't come with the warning label

What’s the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pleasure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Light, that never makes you wink;
Memory, that gives no pain;
Love, when, so, you’re loved again.
What’s the best thing in the world?
—Something out of it, I think.

My bathroom reeks of cigarettes,
My sink is filled with wine,
My kitchen table, a stack of bills
And overdue book fines.
This isolation is my poison,
This quiet is my hell.
I thrive on dreams of suicide
And other habits I can't tell.
The life of an artist, you see,
Is a life of sacrifice.
And though we did not choose this fate,
We still must pay the price.
People think we simply see
Hidden beauty in the world.
But we also see the demons at night
Seducing young boys and girls.
They're tempted by money and other things
The world tries to force in our minds.
And all the artist can do is sit, watch
And hope they come out alive.
For an artist already knows how it is
To live in a world where you choke
On poison and blood and *** and wine
And in the end, they still come out broke.
Yet we still live with a foolish hope
That one day when we're dead and gone,
Perhaps our art and perhaps our words
Will somehow carry on.
We believe once we're immortal
Everything will somehow be alright.
And I plan to be there someday--
If I can make it through the night.

I tried to block you out.
I cup my hands over my ears,
Sing some immature tune
To keep your memory away.

It didn't work.

My mind still goes,
To the way you touched me then.
To the way your strong, stretched fingers
Traced my childish frame.
To what you made me do.

I still replay a movie in my head.
"It's just a game" you promised.
"All the big kids do it."
No. They don't.

You're so ****** up that you
Were able to convince me that
Something's wrong with me.
I didn't ****** a child.
I didn't lie to and coerce a seven year old
To give into my own deranged needs and desires.
You did that, remember?

Part of me almost feels
Sorry for you.
I know you have your problems
That you were born with
But that is not my fault
And that is certainly not
A seven year-old version of me's fault, either.

I told about what you did to me
When I was fourteen.
Some people say it must have been nearly impossible
To keep a secret like that for seven years.
It was honestly harder for me to break that secret.

Part of me was emboldened.
Part of me started to feel okay.
Until it all happened again.

My ex and I have been intimate
But it is always consensual.
When a friend took advantage of me
Right after some tragic events took place
I didn't know what to do.
I couldn't speak.
I couldn't think.

It happened so fast
But we didn't *****.
I found my voice to deny that,
Avidly.

That, however
Is a little less black and white.
The way you abused me, clearly
Was wrong, illegal, and disgusting in every sense of the word.
I understand that.
I do not understand what he did to me
And it has left me more confused than anything else.

I won't lie to you,
I am ****** about what you did to me
Still, to this day.
I would never confront you about it
I love your mother too much to hurt her that way.

I am ****** about what he did to me, too.
I still have the world's hardest time
Going to school, to work, anywhere
Out of fear that I will see him.

When I do see him,
I feel my breaths get short and raspy
And my heart beats too quickly for me to catch up
My body shakes,
And I get an overwhelming nauseous sensation.

However, I am trying to cope with this.
It will not keep me bound.
You never kept me bound.
I am breaking through every chain
That has strangled me like a noose.

I am accepting this
With every bone of my being
So I can move on with my life
So I can teach others
So I can become stronger
No thanks to you.