I hate nights like this. When you want drink so you can drown your sorrows. Make life disappear. Make it all go away. Yet, it won’t last. Joy never does, but that wouldn’t even be joy. It would just be numb. No feeling. No perception of pain. No perception of right or wrong. Just numb.


All of the drinking, cutting and the running away is temporary. It eases the pain for a while but what happened when you wake up. When you can’t get ahold of a drink and the cuts get deeper with every pacing razor. You can only run for so long before your legs just give out. So, then where do you turn?


People tell me to find someone to talk to but people are human. Intentional or not I end up hurt. They are backstabbing, lying, cheating humans who cannot keep their own self preservation and if these people where to ask “what was wrong” I could not answer. I have no answer because I don’t know. I have drowned out my feelings to where I have become so numb I cannot remember why I felt the need to do this to myself to begin with. 
Yet, it is no longer medication to make the pain lesson, it has become an addiction. I cannot stop myself anymore. I am a monster and I am uncontrollable.

I am alone not because I choose to be but because I don’t want to be hurt again. I am alone. I am broken. I am a monster. I don’t even remember what joy feels like.

So I medicate.

To whom it may concern,
He is prodigious and amicable. He is without fault, in a sense that his faults are the very thing that makes him flawless.
He is compassionate and sympathetic. When words flow from his lips, it makes you weak at the knees and it makes you forget about your anxiousness.

He makes my heart beat to a pulp and race a million miles pure second. It's odd though, his track record isn't the best.
He doesn't seem to stay with any one person. He is afraid of losing the people he loves, I guess. (We have that in common)

So, no, he doesn't stick around, and, no, he won't be staying with me.
Yet, he deserves a chance at a little piece of heaven.
I pray to God one day he'll find that person that makes him happy because sometimes you meet someone and they do this thing called falling in love. That's what he and I did, but I know we weren't meant to be.

We were just two sparrows who met in the middle of flying in opposite directions, but - to whoever this may concern - you found him next, and I loved him once, odds are you will too. He was my first, and my only first true love, so take care of him, because when he falls in love, somewhere deep in his heart even when you're gone, he will always love you too.

And when you find out that he won't stay, and you ask me if he is worth it my answer will always be - you could live a hundred years, but only have one here and now. If even just for a moment you really do love him you'll stay until he leaves because it isn't very often in a life time that something or someone comes around and it is worth getting your heart broken for.

I promise you, I will always have a place in his heart and he will always be in mine, but you will hold a new place in a whole new part of him that I had yet to unlock. Thank you for loving him and wish you all the best. Maybe you'll be the one that sticks, but if it doesn't come find me - I know what it is like to watch him walk away.


With sorrow and love,
His former beloved

I will not stop swimming in a sea because I'm afraid of sharks.

I will not stop dancing because I'm afraid of tripping.

I am not going to stop smiling for fear that you won't smile back.

For that same reason, yes the very same - I won't be quiet for fear of not being heard.

I won't stop being me for fear you may judge me.

We're all going to the same place - down in the ground.

Most of our lives will be summed up in a dash between two dates on a slab of stone.

I'm going to live, and I will be heard because I'm not afraid live - truly live.

Live life to its fullest, you only have one.

Don't let others talk you into silence.

Don't go in your grave before you get a chance to live.

In a secret tomb, my ashes lay.
          It's ashes plea in disparity.

Buried miles deep, in false deceit.
          Suffocating, alive, in agony.

Given freely, my light is gone.
           I've lost myself to a blackened            
           theif.

My heart won't rest.
My mind won't relax.
My words are stained blood.
Your heart I will break.

We write poems, and dance.
We sing and we act.
Sometimes we draw and paint,
        but for what?

Someone once told me,
Write and dance to loose yourself.
That's what I then thought I had to do.
         I was wrong and that was then

I used to think the purpose of art was to loose myself,
but I quickly learned it was to,
         *find myself where I lost myself.

He says its mine,
I say it's his!
This isn't fine...
How mad this is!
I miss our life together
He thinks he is better.

Really, I'm better off without
Without thinking of him
I don't need to shout
To be heard, I'm not dim
Don't let me forget
Don't let me regret

But let's be honest, I can't be kind
I won't even try.
I'm not going to rewind
I won't take your mind
I'm not letting go
But I'm not going to show

I'm not going to show you who I am
Because when you had the opportunity, you ran...

I wrote a tragedy with my lips
the story of our love
the pages of your hands across my skin
paragraphs of our hidden desire
our stolen kisses written in-between the lines of the public eye
the ******
metaphors to mask our immorality
chapters filled with indiscretions
the leatherbound catastrophe of your infidelity
the bookends were our lips
and between them was the story of our tragic love

A stolen child glares at a clock.

The child yells, "when will life's pure sting stop!"

Yet, the clock just screams, "tick tock."

A kid, who's life is a blended mess, stares at white walls.

The kid screams, "when will this demon come to a stop."

But the wall doesn't scream, it's sweet silence never cease yelling.

A teen cries from his depths as he trips on his chains-

"When will this burdon leave, my body is screaming from pain."

His cry from the depths, and his screams in the night burry the joy that will not reside.

I pray for the day when the burdon flees from his mists. I pray for the hour that teen is remist.

Broken.
It is such a strange word.
Broken.
It is such a strange definition.
Broken.
Can't what is broken be fixed?

If that which is broken is fixed, is it still broken?
Perhaps it is just brokenly new.
A broken heart can lead to joy.
So if a heart is sad, is it truly broken?

Broken.
Such a strange thing.
Broken.
What a strange concept.
Broken.
What a strange sound.

Why do humans call themselves broken?
Perhaps being broken, is nothing more then an allusion.
Why do we cry in despair when we seem to have broken?
Being broken only allows light to shine through the cracks.

Broken.
What a strange allusion.
Broken.
What a strange existence.
Broken.
What a strange state.

So, if broken can be fixed...
If Broken leads to joy...
If broken is an allusion..
And if light shines through the cracks of things that are broken...
Then it means two things...

Broken is a temporary state for humans.
Broken never existed to begin with.