The same question repeated and lingering in the air
"What's wrong?"
All I know how to pronounce is
"Nothing"
Because if anything else comes out my mouth
tears would decide to fall onto my cheeks

They know what's wrong.
but all they do is put an old Band-Aid on
without even cleaning the wound.

It's Christmas
a time of giving and of love
give me the chance to love him for a couple of minuets
it's been five months and two arguments since my eyes had the gleam in them.

All I want to know is 'why'
a three letter word with an eternity of meanings
but in this case I do not believe there is a reason for such pain
it will hurt nothing but during the time I would have to say goodbye.
I'm merely dreaming the chance of seeing you, even on Christmas

We're not miles apart today
maybe at least two
and it angers me that there will be no way of seeing you

We're popping fireworks
hoping you can see them from where you are
and the sound of the gun powdered lights
is the sound my heart makes when it thinks about you.

Lighting sparklers on fire
and spelling your name in bright stars
and watching it end in smoke
just how you end your days.

My mom just told me Red dye number 40 makes kids go crazy
and I'm starting to wonder if that's what my blood is made out of.

My patience is gone
and I've cut my hair.
I've lost count of how many times I've cried today
my parents know it's because of your curly hair and brown eyes
and all i want for Christmas is to see you
but I'm just flirtin' with disaster aren't I?

I believe hearts are similar to lockets
you can open them and insert special items in them
they'll both tangle into knots when being misplaced for some time

They're both picked and pried at
by generations
or simply different lovers

Though a locket is lucky that it isn't alive
for it's chains would be broken by now

Mary Jane
keeping me sane
and losing trust
another hit I must
I'm not addicted
however, I'm convicted
visited by another drug test
tears, lies, denies, but look your best
there goes your parent's trust, if they had any
there's more Mary Jane in this city
and many No's have I said
but all it takes is one Yes
to not pass the trust test

It's eating my insides again
and throwing up all the 'happy' pills
it's reaching out of my chest and grabbing my throat
It's closing my eye lids
and speaking the excuse of "I'm tired"
It's the mere aggravation of boredom
it's stupid poems replacing razors
It's believing no body cares
it's asking for help but refusing to take it
it's taking up so much of my mind that I don't know how to end this

To the love and trust you once owned
Say Goodbye
To all the privileges merited
say goodbye
Because they're gone faster than you've earned the temporary happiness
But now it's all gone
Say goodbye
You contemplate stopping your anti-depressants just to feel something again
Because the messed you've made has only numbed you
Hurting yourself is more rewarding than others hurting you
Because you can stop if you want to
Sometimes
You have the control
But say goodbye
Everything is gone and so am I

Is living breathing?
Is it uncomfortable?
Or is it beautiful?

Is surviving breathing?
Is it painful?
Or is it delightful?

Definitions are actions
Not words

Surviving is inhaling and exhaling
It is laborious
It is restlessly avoiding death

Living is breathing
It is loving
It is balanced
It is enjoying yourself and the world.

I wonder if we'll ever get the chance to live

When your paving new roads of living
But your own blood brings back the past like it’s a beautiful scrapbook
Pointing and adding their own comments like it's something new

But living In a trash bag will suffocate you.

You're the inconvenience at the bottom of that trash bag
Except they treat you like a silver spoon
Then realize you're merely a used plastic knife

And living in a trash bag will suffocate you.

They assume all your thoughts and feelings
Because you're dead to them
And bringing to your grave nothing but fists and bad attitudes

Being dead can't hurt you.

But unfortunately I'm in the bottom of the black trash bag
Along with immature arguments
And stinging comments

The fight I've put up hasn't been enough
Hopefully one day they’ll recycle this trash bag to become something new again.

Feeling guilty when kissing foreign lips
but saying your name through my head at the same time I was being taken advantage of.
We're both guilty of taking advantage of the other, however.
Me for my body
and you merely because your name his is face
but nothing's really the same
and now I'm completely sure that I love you.

"Welcome back," says the silver stained rectangles
when that's the only hand you can hold because every other coping mechanism is just as harmful.

"Welcome home," says the sideways thoughts
when you're sliding through the crevices of your brain but get stuck in a black hole socket.

"Are you warm yet?" asks the deep red valleys
when you're bearing over your sink and covering your arm in dark wash rags.

"Do you remember this?" asks the familiar burn of the white soap in the red shower,
asks the watered eyes and soaking pillowcase,
asks the summer of sophomore year,
asks the midnight letters never sent,
asks the boy who never forgave me for helping him like my parents are doing to me,
asks my father,
who's reflection burns with wild red hair and bad decisions,
is his daughter
who asks is there even hope?

Decision after decision
is death after death
is another look of disappointment
from the adults who knew me as an intelligent kid

We're working backwards in timeless cities
where "getting over it" are my good mornings
and tearful hands around my throat are my good nights

Suitcases filled with souvenirs just to visit my own home
but nothing feels like home anymore
maybe your arms are the welcome mat
and maybe its the highway

no one knows
but everyone knows my mistakes
and there's no going back now
this is who I am.
A Disappointment