A poet once said:
grief is the overflowing of love.
I didn't believe her then.

But now as I pour my love,
In to your tea cup heart,
It overflows.

Pints... no,
Gallons.
Gallons of my love onto the floor.
It goes unnoticed,
Because your cup is full.

I wish I could give you all my love.
I wish you could accept it.
I wish it didn't hurt to watch it overflow.
I wish above all,
I knew how to stop pouring.

Three thousand, two hundred.
That's my word count.
But only of my published poems.
That number is so much higher on paper.

Three thousand words to say to you.
I'm tired.

Over three thousand words,
But these are a first.

I've never wanted to **** myself.
But I've never wanted to be alive.
Sometimes I wish I could JUST exist.

If there was a switch, it'd be flipped.

I am so exhausted by this feeling.
So tired of being tired.
So tired of feeling helpless.
There's nothing I can do to make it go away.
Nothing to make it pass faster, or to change my mind.

So I sit in this feeling.
With no other option than to let it suffocate me.
I hope I'll come out alive.

It burns.
It's so cold.
The ice surrounds me.
My arms and legs are swallowed whole.
It feels like fire licking me, perspiration dispersing soaking me.
My lungs are no longer working, spasing in pain.
I need to inhale, but I can't.

I need to.
But I know I cant't.
My ribs are being crushed.
My life is being ****** away from me.
The excruciating pain that is this.
The overwhelming sensation.
I know I am dying.
Slowly, Painfully.

I need to breath.
I inhale deeply, searching for the air.
I am met with ice, more and more icy crystals.
I'm kicking and getting no where, I am trying so hard.
I can hear them calling my name, 'just a little more'
I cant go anymore. Their words are not enough
I can not make it out of this, I cant fight.
I cant fight my demons, impossible
They are drowning me.
I can't get out.
Goodbye.
I tried.

I see you.
Writing love lyrics,
Wistful dreamy poems
They are beautiful.

Everytime I read one, I smile.
Because they are beautiful.
I can't produce my own for the darkness controls me.
My words are venom, poison leaking from my veins.
My rhymes are sobbed and not spoken.
My lyrics bring tears to the eyes.

Because it's hard to write what's beautiful.
When the world is so vicious.
I envy the naivete.

Jump.
'I won't'
Jump.
'I shouldnt'
Jump.
'They'd miss me'
Jump!

Crack.

I don't care anymore.  

I don't care if my body were to eat itself from the inside out.
It would hurt and be terrible for a while.
But I can't imagine it'd hurt worse than living my life like this.