I don't care anymore
I don't care about the past
Yours or mine
I just want you
At the end of my life
I will still want you
I don't want the past
To keep me from being happy
Not anymore
You were,
No, you are my soul-mate
I don't care what anyone says
I don't care
Because all I know
Is I love and miss you.

Punch**
My gut bellows

What a fool I am

To believe even for a moment
That I could look past first love

That I would stop needing him
That I would stop wanting him

First and foremost he was a friend

He didn't understand me
Not completely

Oh how he knows my soul
My truest desires

He's gone from my life
Wiped away like chalk

A faint impression left behind

How oh how could I ever tell myself

That I could find even a glimpse of happiness without him.

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.

We should be hardened cynics,
Putting plywood on our windows,
Yellow tape around our homes,
Cautioned shouting,
Never doubting
Who is number One,
In a race that's nearly done.
The finish line's stopped moving,
We hope to be disproving
The infallibility of man.
And thus we sit waiting,
Anticipating chaos,
Spinning the wheels of commerce,
Leaving treadmarks on the innocents
Who needn't to be literate
To mark their X to obliterate.
Like a ****** on a mission,
With cross-hairs on the decision.