When my skin splits in two
I finally feel whole.

why are you sad?
Should I blame you?
I want to.
I wish so badly that I could point my finger
and truly believe myself when I
curse you for hurting me this way.
Should I blame God?
Why did you let this happen to me?
What the hell are you doing up there?
Why are you sad?
Should I blame destiny?
It was always supposed to end up like this.
HELP ME!
WHY AREN'T YOU HELPING ME?
And the reality that I am to blame for this,
reaches out it's icy cold hands and wraps them around my neck,
choking every last bit of air from my lungs.
WHY ARE YOU SAD?*
I can never escape my own mind.
I'm trapped here forever.
Suffocating.
slowly,

s u f f o c a t i n g

Nothing is wrong
But everything is wrong
There’s no reason for this sadness,
But it’s inescapable
It’s pulling me down, drowning me
Over and over again
Lost in this sea of thoughts
Unable to find the way home
Tired of being here,
But unable to move
So lonely, but so unable to talk
So exhausted,
But always awake
The waves of guilt and shame never sleep

As I lay in the bedroom,
My own personal confinement'
in which I oh so willingly created for myself,
I feel myself on fire,
My hands shaking out of utter frustration,
fighting every tear welling up in my eyes with all that I have left of my sense of mind,
But for what reason?
to be strong,
to reassure myself,
I ask myself what use is it to be strong if your utterly alone,
With no one to care weather your strong or not,
So I let go,
but just for a moment,
I allow myself to remember the pain,
the memories I locked away,
hoping someday they would cease to exist,
The troubling feelings that twist my heart and bring me to my knee's
letting out slow puffs of breath I calm my emotions,
wipe the water from my eye's ,
clear the tortured expression that once lay on my face,
I leave the moment and enter back into the world I made myself believe in,
I pretend to be strong.

I need to speak my mind more often.
I need to speak it truthfully,
Pent up it fumes and poisons me.
Turns my tongue to ash.

Today I've noticed I didn't recognize myself.
Fires have warped my features,
Though unchanged my reflection
yields new connotation.

Poets once unheard
now rip tears from my eyes.
Music plays on repeat for hours,
Immersing me in a blanket of deceit.

I hide myself behind my mask of notes,
Submerging myself in an unbreakable bubble,
But its protective husk suppresses the peril within.
The truth is I'm suffocating.

My open wounds pus hate,
Scabbing over in deceit that only cracks with more hate,
Unexplainable angst inflames a desire to break out,
To speak my mind truthfully.

you just want
to slam
your trembling fists into splintering wood,
and bleed ink,
and bleed a masterpiece.

you just want
to wipe
your sorry arm across the angry clutter
of unresolved promises
hoarding psychic energy on your desk.

you just want
to stare
with bitter, blank hate,
as papers flutter downward
into a scattered heap
on the floor,
but

most of the time, you just need
to breathe, and
to gnaw

the clock out from your skull, and
the words out from your knotted thoughts,
and the truth out from your indolent hands,
but

most of the time, you don't.

most of the time, you just want to
scream and
scream and
scream:

“I am not good enough.”

They call me 'the Crutch'.
And as such, I know how that sounds.
But I don't like to speak about it
much.

See, people think I'm just nice.
'Nice and supportive', that's it.
Gets me every time.
But not for a second

do they consider that
once they've sat down
and discarded me by the coats
and the hats,
I need one too.

If I stood between two blaring horns. 
I would hear nothing. 
All the noise and worries would cancel out. 
And I would be safe in the realm of interference. 
But why should I isolate myself?
Is it in my best intrest?
Do I care?
Let me be in my destructive atmosphere. 
And let me stay oblivious.

Under her dark veil she wrung her hands.
"Why are you so pale today?"
"Because I made him drink of stinging grief
Until he got drunk on it.
How can I forget? He staggered out,
His mouth twisted in agony.
I ran down not touching the bannister

And caught up with him at the gate.
I cried: 'A joke!
That's all it was. If you leave, I'll die.'
He smiled calmly and grimly
And told me: 'Don't stand here in the wind.' "

You know that feeling you get when you try to do something
Just anything really
But you make one little slip up and you suddenly feel like your dying

Even though that one little slip was so minor that no one would care
You think to yourself, “oh god I ****** up, I ****** it all up”

Well that’s how I feel all the time
There’s no real way to stop it

You know that feeling you get when you try to do something
Again, just anything really
But you have another little slip up and you really start to feel like your dying

That slip may have meant nothing to anyone
Or they said it’s okay
But you think to yourself “Why did I even try why why why”

You think, “I hate myself, I hate this, I hate that”

There are a few ways to stop it, but they aren’t very good.
I’ll just quit while I’m ahead before I put you all in a bad mood.

I just wanted to say
Well that’s how I feel
How I feel all the time