Through the bright brilliance of the dark/ Into the light their souls embark/ Warped by time and ignorance/ Their sight is burned, their vision spent/ No longer the same, they fear the darkness from which they were born.

To stand apart, remain alone/ Never have to claim a home/ By my side my shadow walks/ Into the woods with my own thoughts/ Where the animals rule, fair and just/ In they alone I place my trust.

I'm not the kind to let things go
I'm of a type that breaths in snow
and lets it build to glaciers .

My breathing feels fluttery, shallow
moths pushing their papery wings up my throat.
I imagine my eyes look glassy, sick
melting from my face,
colors melding like blue green gray lava.

blood is soaking your skin
staining you red,
my devil.
light shines through your eyes
and your charred hair
singes my skin.
you're electric, you're fire
i'm air and ice
teach me.
teach me to burn.

When thoughts stream through my head-
They acclimate into a presence-
Dark and smothering-
Sinister Nothing.

I'm a sucker for a deadly demise and heartbroken eyes.

What if the white rabbit guides you home,
safe and sound,
no rabbit holes, or falling down,
and you grab it by its ******* throat and rip it apart because you're tripping ***** and I don't know how to ******* help you and I'm not a ******* rabbit so
please
stop...

Windy blues and tortured greys, my nights are leaking into days, and over mountains cold and dreary, my bones are shaking, dry and weary.
I pray you hold your flesh close by, lest it catch the wind and fly.

I'll hold you close
toes dug in the sand
with our black and gray hoodies
masking black and gray hands
and from our perch
we'll watch as the land
turns from dark morning
to something near bland
not to say splendor is lacking
but that mediocrity can be grand.

a drum beat thrums beneath my skin, steady,
tense and straining.
a widow dances deep within screaming of
death and rot.
with rhythmic steps and flashes of black
blood thickens...
expiration date determined, i eagerly await
my turn.

You’ve never seen snow like this, never in the realm of reality,
But for a brief, precious moment, my idealistic world lapsed into this one.
I swear to you, never before and never more will the world be as it was.
Tonight.
And yet, nothing can be perfect, nothing is pure
That must be why he wasn’t here.
Twirling, stumbling, through the stars of snow in my fleshy rocket,
He was gone, and I propelled myself through the night,
A lonely captain through space and time, listlessly existing
Hoping you’ll come back to me.
Oh but now the melancholy seeps into my eyes
Tainting my perfect moment.
How sad it is to wander through the beauty of this world
Blind to it for want of another.
Our absurd little morals, necessary structure, obligations…
We forget how to exist without the constant struggle.
There can never be peace in the world,
Because we’ve managed to stifle the peace within our souls.

Hold me close in your spindly arms
and beckon me into harms way
you know what I want and need.

I fear the dark and your caress
but in it I know nothingness,
my sweet dreams and darkened bliss
find a point on which to convalesce.

Daedalus built the maze in which I live. The beast is dead, no need to run, though the need to hide runs deep. Other creatures haunt the dark.

Lol dumb, I know.

I have this thing, which I’ve done for as long as I can remember, where I space out but I’m still looking ahead, but also within. And little me, the shy spirit hiding behind my skull stares out of the maze through a giant telescope that opens up to the world of normies and people who understand how to be social. And I’m here, far beneath my skin, unable to relate, only able to observe.

You don't realize how hard it is to be effortless.

There's glitter in the gutter
and your snowy steps won't help but slip
across the narrow beaten path
despite there careful hopeful placement

I hold you in the highest esteem
I hold you in the dark of night
I wish you held me.

There is a cadence to life and its subsequent death
a cadence to strife and inevitable depth
and as I watch your eyes go dark
and as I wait for the still of your heart,
I know that you are the key to my life
and a craving for yours is simply my right.

I like long walks on the beach
with your hand in mine
and the heady sensation
of finely aged wine
I like this smothering heat
and my toes in the sand
like the hot coals of hell
in an underground land
I like the feel of your bones
between my teeth and
the squish of your veins
and the life you breathe.

If I listen quietly
past the creaking of this cave
I hear a monster, violently,
digging its own grave.

If I wait a minute more
Its tears will fade away
And all that's left is stupid lore
A monster steeped in gray

I spent years spinning straw into gold,
weaving a cast to make myself whole
to guard and heal these once brittle bones
but you make me feel stupid and soft and squishy
and sappy and mawkish and awkward and pretty
like a vapid princess in my black tower
you, dumb prince were meant for the living
but stubborn and young and without misgiving
you fell from the light and the grace of the gods
to be with a girl with many facades.

I'm holding my soul inside, to keep it intact
and safe as mum taught me,
it holds its purity while my body
self destructs.

I thought college would set me free,
I turned 18 and the world opened up,
Rent and taxes and piercings and drugs,
Its all okay.
No one judges you for being wild when you're young.
No one believes you'll last, but that's okay,
failure is expected.
After all,
you're just a
lost teen
on the verge
of
adulthood.

And I love it.
I love the drugs, the drunken nights,
The memories I am making,
I love all the things I was told to hate.
And hate the things I should love.
I hate the people.
I hate talking.
I hate this anxiety that isn't even new,
not brought on by responsibility, or even
drama among my peers,
rather this drama
takes me back
to when I
was small
and hiding while
my parents fought.
The pain in my
stomach and
detached
robotic
self
assurance.

I've always been like this. Practical. Analytical.
I've never broken down, cried in front of people,
or yelled or showed aggression.
Instead I passed out from trying,
trying to be normal because
when mommy and daddy
are fighting you don't
show fear.
I didn't realize
until tonight
that at the
lowest I go
back to
childhood.

I don't look at myself much because I
don't want to draw attention or
upset others. I'm too concerned with
perception. It matters what others think.
Mother always said that.
But maybe passing out, maybe panic attacks
aren't a normal method of catharsis.
Maybe I should yell
or argue but that
mortifies me.
I can't be loud,
you don't want
them to hear
because
then mommy
will say
look
you've
upset
her.

I don't want anyone to fight because of  me.

I'm a lost cause
with a crush on frost
and a fear of the cold.

As I observe from my slate perch I can't help but wonder
if we're all meant to be old
or if some of us feel this discomfort in grown worlds
because we've passed our expiration date.

I'll paint you a brain and a heart and some thoughts
I'll draw up some plans for a life that lacks rot
and you'll learn how to learn and to walk and to talk
you'll learn how to live in a life riddled with fraught
you'll stumble and fail and feel boisterous hope
only to die with a heart unable to cope.

I don't believe in angels or heaven or hell, not honestly.
I don't believe in forever or in life or in death.
I've become a non-entity of self loathing for my lacking purpose.
Its worse when I'm alone.
I hate those people, the ones like myself.
They're pathetic and annoying and utterly loathsome little beasts.
So whiny and emotional.
Who the **** needs purpose anyway?

Tummy full of worms and mind full of death
A wriggling roiling pain and painfully bad breath
I am not your babe nor a pristine lass
But I’m certainly the skinniest in this ****** up class

Honey, you're a dark force
and I'm a dark horse,
maybe we can run together.

When I was 16, I couldn't wait for the freedom that comes with adulthood.
No, I didn't want to grow up. I want that to be clear.
I wanted a neverland, young forever, without a curfew.
Now I'm 20. I know, still young, whole life ahead of me, blah, blah, blah.
The problem is in my head I'm 16.
I don't think I'll ever grow up.
But when I look in the mirror, I'm old. Aging fast, the future is too near and real, blinding in its obnoxious inevitability.
I'm not peter pan, or a lost boy.
They say enjoy being young while you can, adults laugh in a bitter manner when kids dream of future freedoms but they seem to ignore the fact that it isn't age that people long for, its the freedom we attribute to certain ages. No, I don't want to get older.
More than anything, I want to be young.
Young and free, but they seem to rarely overlap.

Honey I hurt myself
years ago, you wouldn't remember,
but I've never told you
and I don't know how.
Darling, trust me,
I'm fine now, I just don't want you
to think your dad was
right, that
I'm
damaged.

a knife in hand
wouldn't turn your head
strewn on the floor
you would leave me dead
with little notice
for the girl in red.

I think you're nice
and I'd like to crawl out of my skin to meet you
but I can't because its warm in here
and while I am terrified at least I am not cold
nor am I shunned when I
talk to no one.

I dream of ******.
My mistress, my mother.
******, ****** my dear...

I dream of Chaos.
My friend and my brother.
Chaos let them shake in fear....

I dream of Death
My reflection, my other.
Staring at me in the mirror...

I dream of Uncertainty
Or I think I do...
My father, oh father....
What shall we do..............

You're gone again and I know the feeling, a familiar lingering pain.
I knew you'd leave, it's not your fault, but it hurts all the same.
They say you're doing good, serving our country's valiant goals...
but the system is corrupt and its hard to pretend we're not selling souls...

I need somewhere to roam
where my dark thoughts can be
without judgement.

No one seems to get my humour,
apparently my suicidal thoughts
aren't funny

My cynicism has seeped into my veins
and now my heart beats to its awful cadence
and I've found comfort in its crude caress

I love all things dark all provoking, touching, reaching, slightly beyond the bounds of the normal where the light will naturally shine.
I want all things beautiful all lovely, lingering, eternal, lifting high into the cloudy kingdoms of fairy and extraterrestrial.
I am all things lost all removed, confusing, unsure, stepping lightly in the alleys and the rooms of both strange and familiar places.

I wish the three knew how to collide in peaceful but pleasing resonance.

Forget rabbit holes an brambles,
I have a nice neat doorway
you can step through
with a nice neat mat and
many smiling tenants to greet,
and we'll have such a good time
good clean fun with card games
and, if we're feeling risky, maybe a
touch of champagne.
Or *******.
And the kicker,
oh my ******* loving lord,
the piece de resistance,
is just how clean psychosis can be.
How neat and pink and rosy,
these yellow pills can keep you cozy.
Forget being mad, be happy.

Hold me closer
hold me tight
close my eyes
and **** my fight
let me sleep
let me fall
I don't think
you cared
at all.

Your mood is mellow meek mild
until its not
You don't explode ignite enrage,
you simmer
You seep and poison and spread

These many scars whisper I should have died young.

In the mirror I am grown.  Fully, and wholly, a human being.
Looking inwards I am small. 12 years old, marveling at the person I’ve become, and the person I somehow was and still am.
Separate, side by side, I exist on multiple planes, in many directions, through all dimensions, different but constant.
The same.

our spindly legs carry us far
and brittle bones make for light cargo,
with sweeping steps and toppling grace
who cares if the skin sinks deep in our face.
you're all pigs, rolling in mud
and here we tower, watch from above
sure bones are sickly and skin translucent
what a small price to pay to rise above your dirt.

Useless duplicitous skill rotting from within as you shun this world.
Your worth lies in creation, rendition, replication. Everything imitating another.
And without you, really, nothing changes. All that's lost is carbon copy, and I think we're all weary of repetition.

feeling the sloping curve of your lips
stroking the cold brittle paper of your skin
gazing into your deadened graceless eyes
I can't help but think your beauty surpasses
any that one of the living could achieve.

I'm surrounded by people in similar states
and yet I'm the only one of my tastes...
I'm the only company I've ever known.

hold my heart between your teeth, and squeeze until I know
that love is dumb and blind and feral, and sappy gooey sentiment
is only present in the blood it spills.

I thought you knew my lowly mind was too sick for your strife
I thought you knew if you were hurting I would take the knife
You're a more perceptive being, you know how small I am
You're a beautiful enigmatic storm and I'm a mere flurry.

A broken heart and seering pain bring words carved of gold and dripping in honey. To attain true art one must either die for it or lose a soul, as the cost of worthless beauty is everything and nothing at all. I hope you know I died for you.

Now I lay me down to sleep
Now the dreams will conquer me
Smoke that swirls is my death
My sweet sweet sin
There's nothing left
Now I lay my head to rest
And hope I may
For death in dreams
I know we're young
But we're not free
Not to die as we please.
So I'll smoke these cigarettes
Offer them my soul
And in exchange
They'll swallow me whole
This is the death I choose.
Amen.