Stick a pin,
Right under your skin.
Leave it there, remember where.
Push it farther and farther in,
Everytime you fail to win.

You make the choice.
You can either carry on, or give up.
You can laugh about it or you can cry.
You can keep quiet or speak your mind.
You can cling to your independence with all your might,
Or learn how to ask for and accept help.

...You can go for it, or you can just get out.

I'm sitting here, sick.
The poison of your words, it sticks.
I take in a breath, try to calm down.
I'm confronted with that nasty sound.
The voice that always has something cruel to say.
No matter how pointless, it is here to stay.

Her self-worth is so fragile in your hands.
You could crush it anytime, like a velvety butterfly wing.
She stares up at you, powerless,
Dreading your next move...
It's all up to you.

I've been living on...
Fake smiles,
False promises,
Long days,
Lonely nights,
Fairweather friends,
And strong stimulants.

Somehow I'm still hungry.

When we envy others,
We cheat ourselves of their beauty.
Maybe they are a good writer, or a talented singer.
It is easy to get caught up in what we don't have.
It is a challenge to accept that everyone plays their own part,
That they have their own unique bit to contribute,
Just like you do too.

Art is not always meant to be understood
But it can always be appreciated
By those who see it as a form of expression
And not mere analysis.

Our human experience
Comes complete with emotions,
Both painful and gratifying.
You cannot rob me of that,
Ever.

Just like all of us,
I was poisoned with premature development
Of the mind, of the body.
Go ahead, blame technology.
It's only part of the problem at the end of the day,
Really just about as harmful as electromagnetic waves.
You can't see them when your sight has been limited,
When the programming for your mind is forever set to primitive.
It's sad that all of us have to pay the price
For the richest of the rich
And their greedy vice.

I'd like you to step aside, for once.
Though you've been steady, reliable, consistent,
More so than any person in my life,
I have to ask you to leave my side.
You are the band-aid conveniently covering a deeply carved wound,
Which will never fully heal while you stick to it,
Protecting it with all your might,
Even when it needs to breathe, when it needs fresh air.
The wound is, and will always be, here...
Unless you go away and never come near.

Dear love,
Although your truth is hard to swallow,
I cannot live without you.
You are ******* the outside
Yet forever solid in your foundation.
You quickly flood my veins and nerves
With the kind of power no one else possesses.
Tomorrow when I see the doctor,
You know I have to ask for you.
You know I have to feel you trickle down my throat
And find your way into my damaged mind.

I'm so done with you.
You don't even try.
So when you lose everything,
Don't ask why.

I want to fly closer to the flames
To slightly singe my skin
To feel some kind of pain but not to fall
Deep into the fire, burned alive and charred forever.

If I just vanished
Into air
No one would blink
Or breathe a little less steady
Or even ask
Where I went.

That day in Charleston -
There was the perfect blend of chaos.
A weapon, a killer, a band of unknowing innocent victims, and years of carefully-executed brainwashing.

Sometimes when I hate myself,
It's not really me that I hate.
It's the people who hurt me
Long, long ago.

I would do anything to protect you
Even if it meant stripping another human being down
Down to their bones, to see what's underneath it all
What they may be hiding from you.

She's a little weird,
Counting all her fears
Before she steps outside
Into the light
For everyone to see
And quickly scrutinize.

This is the only way I have to fight back.
Words on a page.
A voice that resonates.
It's not much,
But it will have to do for now.

This isn't passion anymore; it's violence.
It's self-gratification.
I can feel it, because I feel nothing towards you
And you feel nothing towards me.
Simply a means to an end.
Is that really what I am?

It's brutal, really, the way you handle me sometimes.
I'm made of glass, not elastic.
I cannot bend to your every need.
If you drop me, I will not fall like a feather.
I will break, and you will be the one picking up the pieces.

He's only as genuine as he seems.
For the only time you can catch him in a lie
Is the time that you have real proof, not intuition.
Though we all know our senses extend far beyond the short story our two eyes tell.
The question is, which sense can you trust?

Warm blankets envelope me.
A hot cup of chamomile rests dutifully by my side.
The sound of fake rain drops emanates mechanically from my phone.
And there I am, trying to block it all out.
Trying to forget what you did.
Even though it haunts me, crushes my relationships,
Erases my self-esteem,
And wriggles its way into every good dream.

I am so tired of it,
Pushing myself to be 'normal,'
To not sound lost, or confused.
Smile!
Don't worry!
The most common, uncreative commands
Thrown at me with scarce empathy
Meanwhile, my concerns are brushed to the side,
Lazily swept away.

Am I okay, you ask?
I sincerely doubt it.
What I do know though,
Is how much it doesn't matter.
My life goes on, despite how much I resent the passage of time.
Despite how I count down to not only the end of the day, but the end of me.
And as the clock ticks, I realize each second is wasted.
It's wasted on my negativity.
So, maybe I should just be okay for once,
Even if it hurts.
What do I have to lose?

When you're depressed, it's hard to say 'yes.'
'Yes' to the start of a new day.
'Yes' to any opportunity that comes your way.
'Yes' to a friend in need.
'Yes' to doing a good deed.
Because 'no' is easy, 'no' is safe.
'No' allows you to stay in that cold, dark place.

Look, you can see the future in her eyes.
She can't help but plan and prioritize.
She always thinks seven days ahead, every week.
She can't live in the moment;
Her life is bleak.

I see you down there, working so hard
I see with my eyes that watch
Everything.
I know where you would rather be.
You'd like to be in your bed dreaming,
Peacefully, painlessly.
You can't be though; that's where I am.
There's only room for one.
Rest assured though, I'll be dreaming of you all the while.

He's crafted from butterfly wings, so soft and delicate,
A vibrant display of blues, oranges, and golds.
While I gaze upon his beauty with a kind of humble admiration,
I can't help but wonder if I could, oh so slyly,
Yet violently,
Rip the colorful bits and pieces off
And assemble, however I'd like,
A collage of my own, a selfish project,
Another step closer to the finished product.

It's hollow, mechanical,
Begging for some kind of miracle
To bring it to life
Before its repetitive, monotonous motions
Bring death to what we have,
To everything we're creating.

Seeing past my pettiness,
I can realize true friendship.
Now that I am able to step back
From the burning itch to satisfy
All of my selfish desires,
I can approach you, selflessly,
Not as a hidden enemy.
I am so proud of what we have;
It is not the bond between lovers.
It is the common understanding between us,
The care and compassion,
With no need for physical compensation.
A beautiful, often underestimated kind of union.

Her appetite is endless,
As she eats your insides, licking her fingers,
Smiling cooly, calmly,
A nightmare forever committed to your mind.

Always have to secure control over something.
Just one thing is all it takes.
Maybe it's your routine, maybe it's your weight.
Maybe it's another person who can never seem to catch a break
From you.

You know I'd never break your heart;
I love you too much.
Sometimes I can be difficult.
Sometimes I will make you feel
Like you need to be some kind of superhero.
But in reality, I appreciate you
For who you are, and that alone.

My heart's growing colder everyday.
I can feel it, when I look the other way,
Ignoring everyone who tries to catch my eye.
I can hear it, when you ask for help,
And I tell you in not so many words,
That it's not my problem.
I can see it, when you notice my vacant expression,
And you turn away, hoping I won't infect you
With this ever-present emptiness.

She appeared to me as a small caterpillar,
Transforming slowly in front of my eyes.
I watched as they plucked her butterfly wings
And sold them for a pretty price.

Here I am, sitting, wondering
What you're thinking.
It's dangerous,
Your love.
It pulls on me in all the right places.
You're the king of my thoughts,
A ruler of my feelings.
I know this cannot be healthy.

Love is more powerful
Than you could ever imagine
It defies your expectations
It satiates your thirst
For something real and complete
It is the only freedom
From your own selfish agenda.

There is a demon in me,
Literally.
I can feel it pushing me away,
Back into the passenger's seat,
As it drives my life.

A whisper
An insidious start
To a noisy finish
With the voices so soft
So innocent
'Til they grow louder
'Til they sound mean
'Til they shout everything
That you cannot bear to hear.

With nothing much else to do,
We would grab a couple of purple prickly pear margaritas
And I remember how delicious they were
And how the bartender didn't hold back
Yes, they were strong.

And I would giggle, I would act ditzy.
Just because it was fun, and it got your attention.
You would roll your eyes at me sometimes
But not really in a mean way.

And we would grab some coney dogs, devour them like they were nothing.
Then we would fight about something.

We would drive all the way to the city
Stroll through the casinos aimlessly,
Because we were financially irresponsible,
But not that financially irresponsible.
Afterwards, you would buy me a delicious ice cream.

Then you would tell me all the places you wanted to take me, and all the events you wanted me to experience.

We really did give it our all.

But life is cruel, and our best wasn't good enough.

Will I always sink back into this?
The cold, smooth acceptance of your apathy
The kind of apathy that whispers
'I don't really love you,'
While it turns the other way,
Far, far, away from you.

The flimsily crafted walls, they're
Crumbling down,
All around me.
You thought it was real;
It was only a dream.
A bad, bad dream.

Or at least I wish it was.

I look into the mirror
Determined to say,
'I'm beautiful, I'm perfect today.'
Then I see the somewhat misshapen nose
The lines underneath my eyes
A brand new pimple on my cheek
Ears that stick out
And all I can think
Is that I will never be beautiful.

Pray.
Wash all the pain away.
A brand new, fresh day
Is calling your name.

Trained to mistrust
To question
To smell out a lie
From miles away.

Trained to guard her
The inner child
She has no defenses
She opens herself up

And I close her
Bury her
Shelter her
Underneath these layers
Of doubt and deception.

I am made of Kevlar,
Solid and strong.
Your hurtful commentary
Just bounces off of me
And your negativity
Leaves no scars.

I'm over here.

                                                       Over where?
Can't you see me?


                                                      I can't see.
Can't you feel me?

                                                     I feel nothing.
I am God.





                                            I am my own God.






                                      ...and I don't need you.

I'm writing a story
Well, kind of.
Mostly it's writing itself.
It comes from a place
Of genuine feeling,
Of thoughts buried so deep
That I need at least
A hundred pages
To resurface those repressed dreams
And nightmares.

Different is not always better
But it can be more challenging
And it can be disheartening
When people don't appreciate
Your uniqueness.