black coffee and asprin for breakfast
and i'm still shooting blanks
pouring it over my face, scalding
dripping down my *******
black coach bags
staring back at you
your hungry mouth
reaching for mine
regardless

okay, take the pill and split it;
okay, drown it down your throat;
okay, take the dream and the scissors;
yes, the one dream where i remembered
how to play four squares with bricks for
*****, with smoke for the air around
us.
yes, the one dream where somehow, we
painted bruises into nebulas, our scars
into stars, our whole arms would become
a galaxy that we would call “not healed,
but getting there.”
yes, the one dream where psychologists
and men in business suits demanded
our whole history, slitting our brains
to find the right pills.
yes, the one dream where my hands
shake at the acceptance letter I was
handed, my future was set in sky
blue victory.
yes, the one dream where my hands
can hardly pin down silver and yellow tears
yes, the one where I am leaving
beige walls.
yes, the one where i leave the mixture
of puke green tiles for stargazing in
the middle of nowhere blue, to
hardwood floors that are now mine
yes, the one dream where pavement
tore skin like my hands tore the papers
with failing grades and red.
yes, the one where i have said that i have
lived, i have lived, i have lived, and i
will live.
okay, cut the dream.



okay, leave the shattered remains on the floor.
okay, leave your green eyes behind.
okay, let the remains melt away,
they will, in time, like time always does.
okay, let the rain wash it away.

Smell the perfume somewhere
waiting the heart beat
For the arm wrapping gently
The odour is inviting life
for the roseate kisses of death ....

Dear death ,
Please , Don't flirt with life
cause I want affair with you

Her smell permeated my soul so strongly
Now I have anosmia

Sometimes I force myself into this certain mood
One that my therapists weren’t able to conclude

I think I would describe it as if I were on the ocean floor
Beautiful yet isolated in the dark with no door

Life is calming and depressing yet beautiful in a way
I reminded myself that I ditched reality, I wasn’t one to stay

I have these tricks that I use to make myself feel numb
Some would say they’re dangerous, but at least they make my heart drum

***** tastes like water, and cigarettes feel like fresh air
When I use too much I sometimes pull out my hair

Sometimes these mechanisms make me cry
But people just label this beautiful thing as ‘high’

Once in awhile I want to stay in that trance forever with no end
Because why should it matter when I have no one to call a friend?

No one cares in my mind but maybe it’s because I want to be alone
Maybe it’s because I force myself to feel this pain down to the bone

Why do I love to hurt myself so much?
I love the way things sting when there’s pain to the touch

Maybe it’s a dark addiction out of the many I own
One where I would love for my life to just postpone

Once again as I write this I want something to make me numb
Or maybe I just took something to think I’m having fun

To pave a smile upon my face for only a few hours at most
I’ve asked myself multiple times, ‘how much to overdose?’

I have a relatively good life but a relatively gruesome mind
When I get in these moods, happiness is the hardest to find

I don’t want to feel happy again
I feel like my body is the one to condemn

I don’t want to feel like this necessarily
But the way it comes upon me is completely involuntary

I don’t want to get better
But don’t worry because this is not my suicide letter.



h.m.w