Like worms in the pit of
apples there are maggots
in the pit of my veins.

I am fossil fuel and
I'll run out eventually.
You can't depend on me.
   My skin is a monument
   and I am slowly chipping
   away.

Every lake is Elaura's
but they're still puddles
grass as tall as trees.
   Vines digging through
my cochlea, swishing the
liquid and I swear I
hear god coming.

The nineteenth you kissed
me. She was in your mind
all night and you stayed with
the man who declared me
"Mine."

My skin is crawling of nightmares.
and my eyes have spiderwebs
in them. Cobwebs of dead love
growing on my eyelashes.
   Don't expect me to cry.
   My tears are just dew
   on the grass above my
   grave.
     My tears are just acid
     rain decaying my memory.

The sharpie we swear
will stay decays under
my nails.

"I didn't try to **** myself."
    I'm out in four days.
"I was just ******."
    And these burns mean nothing.
I lie so often I don't know
what honesty means.
    I read it backwards
    spell it with an "A"
and now honesty just means
    a complicated puzzle and
    a kindergarten mind.

My veins are so twisted
I don't even know if they
pump blood right.

I don't really think I'm
alive.

He said he no longer knows
the person who wears my
mask of a face.
   The bones are ripping through,
   and I feel Jekyll coming out
   of Hyde.

I'll fall off cliffs and land
in lava before you work out
the knots of tree branches
in my joints.

   My tendons are worms
and my bones are cracked concrete
that you can't fix by pouring
more in me.

It tastes worse than brick
going into my lungs but I
stick it there
like a lock and moan
as it pierces my heart
and breaks a few ribs.
   Because it's smoke.
   I asked for the pain
   and enjoyed all three
   ****** of sharks puncturing
my arteries.
  
My heart is metal
but you still short
circuit
my mother board and
I swear this ship is
going down.

Let's make it the Titanic.
or maybe Romeo and Juliet.
Have people romanticize our
tragedy.

Then I'll smile through
my tears.
   Maybe we can bow during
   the standing ovation too.

Did you ever think it would end, this dream?
This dream is on the frying pan.

Did you ever think that moan you heard would turn into a
       scream?
For shame, it has; she's boiling, you know.

I want to tell you everything, so you can tell me anything.
I've found the center of your mind.

Did you ever think you'd eat again, after that meal exploded?
It was the boiling fat.

I want to tell you, love me do.
When'd you dream of that?

"No," she said, "I love the girls."

My heart feels sorta flat.

Dreams come true
And sometimes they lie.
Tell me true, am I just a guy?

Me and you
Oh, how time flied.
What's it mean?
Still glad I tried.

I'll move on.
I'll find a straight one.
With burnt edges,
Who makes sounds like bacon.

Every time, that I see you...
I know I'll be
The one in your eyes.
But it's plain to see
Today is just some cloudy skies.

Mourn for me,
But then move on.
I'll swim the sea
And find my own.

thirty ******* pounds of pressure in my chest. anxiety, i fell under the spell of that demon when i looked in to his eyes we both knew we were destined he and I. anxiety is the ******* that turns a good thing rotten. anxiety will put you in shackles and taunt you with the key. when you think all will go well anxiety pulls the key back just out of reach. anxiety ***** your strength out one day at a time. you always growing weaker, and he just gets stronger. you can’t **** anxiety with a silver bullet, a stake to the heart, or a vial of holy water. much like the path to nirvana you must find your own path to ridding yourself of him. some fail, some succeed. some people seem to fall in love with self torture he doesn’t even have to lift a finger.

I fell behind because I was too busy pushing you forward.

"Love me better", she says
"It takes time", I say

Living this mundane life
On a quest for a wife
Its something I strive for
To walk across the beach
Holding her hand
Ever so gently
and as I watch the sunset
I look to my side and see your smiling face
I wish you could take me to that place

Thats what I want
But thats not what you want
You want someone to love you better
Someone to listen more
Someone to listen for
You want someone to love you better?
But I can only love you the way I know how

So I finally understand why you walked out of that door
Why you stopped talking
Why you stopped walking
Why you stopped holding
and as my hand drifted away from a place called home
It searched over yonder
Another place of warmth
So as it slipped into the slit in my pants
and my back hunched over
With the thoughts of you weighing me down
Making me lose my seal
which used to hold me together
My mind runs rampant
and I wish...
I wish...
I wish I could've loved you better

I whisper poison to myself in ways only poets can,
wondering why you never asked me for the antidote.
Sat in the middle of my warzone, decomposing symphonies
formed in your ears when my poetry held you tighter than I could.
It is better to recognise your blood stains for what they are.
I blame myself. I blame myself. I blame myself.

I blame myself, when you still arrive unannounced at my door
with ****** knees and elbows. Shirt sleeves and split jeans.
Again, I have another hole to make whole again.
To stitch up your stars into rearranged constellations
that match the traced freckles on your back,
that do not form to spell my name,
that aren't metaphors; but the truth.

Dean Eastmond.

with fingers of sin i had touched your core, unzipped your jeans like locked church doors and swore i would marry you one day.
they say i shouldn't love you anymore, that poems are only for those you adore—but when you left i was naked on the floor, sold my soul to the convenience store, and
to forget a ****** i kissed a *****
kissed my lips and cried no more

Men don't cry
But maybe these tears are the past,
Waiting to be let out
Or fear of the future,
Afraid I might follow those footsteps
Men don't cry
But these tears are very real
These lips are trembling
I cannot speak
My nose is a stuffed torrent
My eyes are flooding
My vision is clouding
Men don't cry
But I'm sobbing into my pillow
Men don't cry
But I keep on falling apart
Men don't cry
But I lost it
MEN.
DON'T.
CRY.
...But I've broken today

I have a million things to say to you
about how you made me feel
how worthless you made me feel
how broken you made me feel
and I could write you a list
I could mail it to you
I could write you a song
I could sing it to you
I could scream it at you
I could cry to you all the things you did to me
tell you how much I loathe you
I could tell you how you WRECKED me
how you RUINED things in my life
how you destroyed those that I care about and love
I could etch it into your skin
leave it in a note on your doorstep
burn it into the wood of your backyard fence
...but I won't.
You really don't even deserve to know what you did to me anymore
So goodbye now.
Even though you're not even worth a goodbye to me anymore.

Repost if someone has stopped even being worth a goodbye to you at this point because of how deeply they wounded you.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art!

Up in the morning, and pull your hair in a ponytail, brush the greasy strands out, block out the pallor with overkill blush. Sling your bag over one shoulder and give yourself more problems, more pain with every book you add, every line of knowledge you absorb through the osmosis of sitting bored and dull through seven hours. Walk on eggshells down the hall, numb like you're dead on your feet, and lace your sweaty fingers with his. Punctuate every thought you have with lol, to make it seem less serious in real life. Hold back the arsenic you taste in your brain. Sit behind a desk and ignore the sound of social lives blaring like white noise in the background of your life. You are not the main character of your own life. You are stuck in the static.