imagine: there are two bodies floating
at the top of the lake, and you know them
by name-  one is the girl who has always
loved you, and the other is the girl you
have always loved, even though she tells you
she could never love you back. both are
drowning, do you save one, or do you
drown too?

When you have b.p.d you can't really control your emotions.
Everything hits you like a wave.
And you can't take it all in because
It's exactly like being hit by a wave.
You panic, and try to grab hold of
The ground to keep you from going
Deeper but your grip loosen and the next thing you know you're neck deep.

if altitude
is determined by
attitude
I'm in my grave.

Nothing they say is true;
My body is but a graveyard
where you bore
ten feet down and burried
my trust in men

My body is a graveyard and I am haunted
harboring all these dead secrets
everyone seems they have forgotten
inside me they are rotting

The girl in the mirror,
did she just escape a fire?
Haunted by the burn of liquor
Haunted by your searing fingers
(twenty of them)

Push me down harder
Pry me open quicker
I love the way it hurts

Each day I start with a book
A yawn, a stretch, and I thump down the steps
Eager as each day before

A navy armchair and fluorescent desk lamp
Are the only friends of mine

Each day I start with a book
Switch on my lamp, find my page, and I’m lost in thickening daze
Just as each day before

I’m grateful for my friends; My armchair keeps my limbs at rest
As my lamp illuminates forgotten words

Each day I start with a book
But a week or so ago,
Something was not quite right
Perched on my chair, I switched on my lamp
But something was off

“Now, not a moment’s more thought, time is ticking away” I say
So I crack open my book, and find my page
Eager as each day before

Each day I start with a book
But just the other morning,
Perched on my chair, I switch on my lamp, and squint at the page
I never had to squint before

But I was so far lost in the plot
I didn’t give it another thought

Each day I start with a book
But on this day, I notice my dimming lamp
Her light, reliably fluorescent white
Now shone dull yellow-gold
But I was intent on finishing my book
Eager as each day before



That was the last day I started with a book
I perched on my chair, and for hours I sat, eyes lazily scrolling forgotten words
I read late into the night

And I was just getting to the good part, when
everything went dark.