**** all artificial lights
no natural causes but
natural darkness
fake lights for true dark
blackest of blacks
like charred tree bark
leave but one imposter
glowing in the gloom
just pale enough
to write onto
and that's my door to you

My skies are always
so clearly blue when they're not
obscured by the night.

I'll let darkness in
if you promise to fill it
with endless starlight.

You cannot break the broken, you can't live in the past, throw that memory away, you cannot let it stay, oh I wish I had the power to change every wasted hour, to knock down this growing tower under which I fearfully cower, in my ball of self regret.

             
                    I can remember:

                Tears that I have shed.

                 Lies that I have said.

                 Pain I have inflicted.

              Oh how I feel conflicted.


But know now this, for it is true, for all the things I can't undo, I'd never regret loving you.

So I am poor, but withhold the only key
To allow thee this, my dear safe treasure.
The rich will not a moment closely study,
For dull is the point of frequent  pleasure.
Therefore are treats so posh yet so thin
Since rarely coming in  ages they bound,
Like valuables sum men give on occasion;
Or gaudy gems placed just so in a crown.
So  the moment arrives to peek my chest
Or peep this, my only treasure assessed,
Thru a lil locked spyhole it's 2b revealed.
Make a blessèd instant instantly blessed
-None outside to unfold the pride sealed.
Adored are you whose merit gives scope;-
If had a Victory; if in Poverty, (stay broke.)

I've discovered Hell, and the truth is,
It isn't a place you go, it's a sickness.
It resides within your bones
And its scaffolding is made from trauma.
The only fire you'll find is from the white-hot flashbacks
That leave you drenched in sweat that smells like smoke.
No-one lives there except you and your enemies,
And your enemies are fragments of history, unable to be killed.
Your mind is the devil that subjects you to punishment
That you can't help but be convinced that you deserve,
And escape is a notion kept only for tears;
Everything else remains trapped.
Hell is being held within the cage of your own body
And killing yourself trying to break free.

There are a few things in the world
That wave between light and darkness.
Such things allure me
I've some unknown hunger for them
Like a monster
It's neither an angel
Nor a devil
But it still is
Like a black rose
Rose is a symbol of goodness
Yet its stained in darkness
And it blooms as black
These things captivate me
Like a charmer captivating it's prey
I wonder about them all the time
I guess after all
I'm like them

It started as a puncture,
but the seam slowly ripped;
a thimble can't protect
from a poison needle tip.

She tried to mend it
by making more holes;
the tear only grew
and grew out of control.

At the spinning wheel
her life would quickly dwindle;
frantic attempts to hem
were depleting the spindle.

What started as a puncture
of seductive sedation
fueled the abuse
of machined perforation.

"Don't mourn a living corpse"
were the last words she said
as she drew the needle
that held the last thread.

Poetry has become my self harm,
I only write at my lows...
Instead of blood I see words,
Instead of a blade I have a keyboard...

I want to write about...
The wind dancing with the sea...
Or...
The way you smile and it lights up your innocent face...

I don't want poetry to be my self harm,
Because poetry is beautiful...
An art...
Not.
Just.
Blood.
And.
Scars.