I’ve asked it before,
“Is it my heart or my head
that wishes I was dead?”
My doctor would say it’s my head because
I have depression, a sickness of the mind.
My mother would say it’s my head
because the other answer would be too painful.
My friend would ask me what I think because
she understands I am logical more than emotional.
But what is my answer?
Is it the sickness that makes me want to die?
Or is it truly how I feel in my heart?
But is it possible that it’s a mixture and it’s actually
my soul within that makes me suicidal?

I cry at night because of you.
I am your humble servant.
So please, My Lord just treat me well.
And **** me on the spot.

I’m sure you want to cause me pain
because that is who you are.
Instead, please cause even more
by taking me to the grave.

The pain in my soul will no longer be there.
It will have gone to the stars.
But the pain to others will be even greater
than what you could cause me.

So I pray, My Lord, Satan.
To take me away from here.
Bring pain to my family, whom I hold dear
which I’m sure will make you happy.

Once upon a time
She was a liar and a cheat

Lying at everyone she loved
Cheating off everyone she could meet

She didn't want to smile so much
Smiling tortured her withered soul

She couldn't even talk as much
Opening her mouth she lied to herself

Once upon a time
She was a happy girl

Then the war it started
Over her body and her soul

Binge.
             Netflix                      
             Hulu                          
             Bulimia                    

I have new ones.
              Writing                    
              Poetry                      

There are times
where in ten measly minutes
I write and write
creating one poem
per two minutes.

Five poems in
ten minutes.

I am Binge Writing.

Pouring out my soul
in the form of a
waterfall.

I wish that I was dead.
It’s not really that I want to **** myself.
I just want everything to be over.

If I was brave enough
maybe I could do it myself.
But I’m not.

I wish that my life was over
so I wouldn’t have all of these feelings
that actually don’t exist.

I wish that I was gone,
away from my life and family
so I wouldn’t be hurting them anymore.

If only I could make it
so I’m the only one who hurts,
maybe I’d be brave enough.

Bravery comes in many forms.
It changes forms depending on it’s friend.

We take the brave to conquer demons
in different, personal ways.

Being brave is different for everyone,
it has a different face.

With respect we watch people fight
with swords, or guns, or more.

We may have similar fighting styles
but truth says no-one is the same.

Being brave is a personal thing.
And I respect the way you fight.

Hold me close
but do not touch me.
Treat me well
but do not take me for granted.
Never let me go
but let me leave.
Learn all of my faults
but let me be me.
Get to know me
but do not leave me.

You haunt my thoughts, turn my dreams into nightmares.
Your image shows me what I see in myself.
Someone frightening.
Your voice whispers to me what I hear my reflection say.
Something false.
The memory of your touch makes my body tremble.
With remembered violations.
The memory of your taste makes my tongue crave something else.
The taste of blood.
The memory of your smell reminds me of the warmth I felt.
When I was in love.
You’re the demon I encounter every single day.

Even when I don’t see you.
Even when I can’t see you.
Even when I won’t see you.
Even when I don’t want to see you.

You’re the demon of my memories.
The demon of my body.
The demon that takes over my emotions.

I blame you.
For feeling sad or numb. Never happy.
For crying or frowning. Never smiling.
I blame you.
For biting or cutting. For punching or scratching.
For all the pain I inflict on myself.
I blame you.
For drawing blood on the skin you once called perfect.
For carving lines into the body you once held in your arms.
I blame you.
For creating darkness in the eyes you once called beautiful.
For needing to watch a heart-wrenching movie just to cry.
I blame you.
For forcing my mouth into a shape you never knew.
For creating the fear of a simple kiss from someone else.
I blame you.
For the depression that has taken over my mind.
For the depression that has taken over my soul.
I. Blame. You.

There are so many reasons I blame you.
All of them valid.
All of them validated by others who know my story.
Except for you.
  Because you don’t remember it the way I do.
You don’t remember that I said, “No.”
You don’t remember that I asked you to stop.

So I know that it is not myself to blame.
But because you don’t know
what your violations did to me,
I blame myself.
I blame myself instead of you.
**Again.

During sunrise I see colors of the light moving through the clouds.
During sunrise I hear the clocks and alarms going off on my phone.
During sunrise I feel the blanket and the comfort heat of my bed.

During the day I see the sun and the earth we live on circles it.
During the day I hear the birds and the air we breathe keeps them up.
During the day I feel the grass and smell the flowers growing in it.

During sunset I see the colors in the west instead of the east.
During sunset I hear the words of couples falling in love.
During sunset I feel the dreams coming true throughout the world.

During the night I see the moon and stars and reach for them.
During the night I hear the wind moving through the leaves outside.
During the night I feel the cold of the air circling the stormy world.

Throughout the night I see the nightmares and wake with tears.
Throughout the night I hear music playing keeping my calm in the dark.
Throughout the night I feel the sheets tucked all around me as I sleep.

Ready the washcloth and the drying mats.
Turn the faucet on to hot and let the water flow.
Pour blue soap onto each glass and fork;
Onto every dish and bowl.
I’m searching for the courage to do the family dishes.
To roll up the sleeves of a long-sleeved shirt under a simple tee.
To show my scars to myself and maybe to the water.
Doing dishes home alone, finding courage to face myself.

When being/living with so much pain
Do anything to face away
Some point suicide the only option.
Pain/love one and the same
Confusion of the mind.
Get. Out.
Do not come back
No Solicitors
Do not bring Hell/Heaven here
Already living in that loft.
Try to sell
go to a motel
rent a car
get a flight
Join please ~~~ or don’t.
You’re choice - only yours.

I've given up on my smile.
I've welcomed all my tears.
I sit and stare at the wall
with nothing in my soul.

I've given up on my happiness.
I've welcomed all my demons.
I lay in bed staring at the lights
with darkness in my heart.

I've given up on myself.
I've welcomed all the cuts.
I rock on the bathroom floor
with blood running down.