They say it's good to see me smile
And how they haven't seen it in a while

And they ask about my writing-
Am I still troubled and alone.
"Are you still writing about cutting?"
Am I still afraid of all these ghosts?

No, I don't think so.

I might be troubled, but I'm not lonely
I was never afraid to be alone

And I write of self harm because it comes easy

I write uncomfortable poems
I write a bit too much about death
And of these feelings so familiar
And about how she would cut her ******* wrists

And how she would call and recount the horror; I can recall the shaking of her breath
And how every word seemed to break like thunder over telephone lines
And how she'd curse her name with razor blades
And how the feeling of helplessness always kept me awake.

And I write disasters down on paper
And about what else life has left
And of these destructive behaviors
To forget my own, I write out hers

We traded car rides for skylines in cities we never share.
And when I'm driving I'm still wishing that you were there.
Wrapped in a blanket, or my jacket, and playing with your hair.
We'd go on adventures, roads open. I'll take you anywhere.

It's disheartening that you're sharpening all your knives to break your skin. To gouge out deeper, to cleave disaster, to carve out canyons with your hands.

And your heart's pacing and your mind's racing while you're retracing every scar with a pen. What a nervous itch that you hope to quit. The knives you hope to ditch weigh on your mind again.

You know these epidermal lies, they're just artificial highs just to help you get by but it's not the same as finding a new will to live and finding one more hope to give in every single cut you did just to keep you sane

These medications that you're taking: they're not keeping you from breaking. They're just filling you with anger, a bitterness and a resentment

And it's not shocking that your pill popping has got your heart stopping. You feel like dying once again. What a nervous itch that you hope to quit. The pills you hope to ditch weigh on your mind again.

Your decisions left incisions. But let's not talk about it. Let's just forget about it

I'm done hoping that you're choking on every single thing you ever did. I'm regretting my forgetting that I loved you more than I could admit. And it's troubling that your bubbling over with words seem to have stalled. I would tell you, if it could save you, I don't think it's your fault

Sometimes I drive to feel fine, to feel alive, to feel anything at all. And the seat beside me is often empty, but it's okay because I drive to not feel lonely.

But sometimes the seat fills with people, with things- often notebooks and pens. Not pencils. And these people change, they up and leave. Say goodbye and never look back.

But it's okay, because I was just driving to drive anyway. Sometimes in silence and sometimes with the crackle of the stereo. Mostly though the sounds of bands that have helped me feel less lonely.

And in the backseat is usually a guitar. And it's not always in a case. And windows down. Key in ignition always. Never mind when I'm not around.

I'm not hanging around.

I'm terrified that now you've left me that soon you'll just forget me and I'll just be all alone once again.

And I fear that when I call you that you will just ignore it and I'll just be talking to myself once again.

I'm giving you this heart in the hopes that you may keep it and I pray it won't get broken once again.

And when I'm missing you most my dear, I'm wishing for you home and I'm afraid that I'll just be all alone once again.

When everyone has left me and poetry betrays me, would you still stand beside me until the end?

It's the only thing I need and all that I desire. Your voice inside my head is healing me.

Your blue eyes and smile- how they set my soul on fire. Nothing matters nearly as much to me as you.

I'd rather choose to die young than be stuck here forever taking pills and taking shots and hoping my heart will feel better. Taking chance after chance but it feels like I'm dying. Not from fear or disappointment but because my father is crying.

And if I feel disenchanted, I hope the feeling won't last forever. I've been choking on words that are the only ones that matter. And if you wait for me here, then I swear I'll come back to you waiting patiently but I just don't know what to do.

Or what to say or what to feel and if my heart is made of steel, then it's not broken, it's just rusting. It's just heavy on my mind. And all the drawings and the letters, and the praying I'll feel better. And I'm not breaking, I'm just bruising. And how I wish that you were mine.

I chose music over my friends and now I don't have a single one left. I guess what I'm saying is you meant more than music ever did.

And it's a bit ironic how these words become the next song. And I wrote them to replace all the friends I've already lost.

We make excuses, not progress
And the hint of the dawn is killing us

And it's the horizon glow
Behind trees and skylines and ways home
And it's the way that the sun sets and sunrise
Through windshields look to my eyes

Like no one is watching.

I hope that you're watching.

I guess sometimes the words get caught on my tongue
Amid the torrents of thoughts that only massacre the outcome
Like I'm choking on the only words that seem important
The "I love you's" and "you matter" get lost in the indifference

And I've tried writing you a letter, but my head gets lost in my heart's confusion.
So I just sit there staring blankly at the paper right in front of me
The words just come so slowly and I wait for them impatiently
The sun sets and I still try to write something for you perfectly.

The sun rise through my windshield isn't anything as pretty as your blue eyes

I've got a misguided belief that everything will be alright. But I still brood in disbelief almost every single night. So I sit in my room- teeth clenched and eyes closed. And think about the things about you I miss the most.

How you smile even though everything's gone to hell and how I get depressed when things are going twice as well. About you laughing in the car about some offhanded remark that I made when the piece of junk wouldn't start up.

I said I'd wait for you here
I'm rooted to this spot forever
It seems I'm stuck here in this place
Until the sky is falling.

She said you never write of falling in love. And I could only reply I write about things I know. Like losing trust and cutting wrists and breaking bones and being depressed.

And she told me to write about something else. And she said that it might help. So I'm writing this instead. But her voice still rings in my head.

But I'm not waiting for the answer. I'm not hanging around for this.

We so often talk of breaking bones and slashing skin but never how to fix or deal with it. As if, in the back of our minds, we hold on to these sufferings. Because they're the things that make us feel human. And ain't it the only thing that matters?

And it's every breath, every finite movement of the hand against wrist. Every bit of our existence is a defiant stand against God. And it's God that has abandoned us. It is God who has left us all.

And so abandoned, self destructive, we break bones and slash skin. But we don't pray to God to save us. And we dare not trust our friends. Not our family. Not ourselves. We'll just wash away our sins.

My problem is that I have to play the devil's advocate incessantly. To the point where I turn the best of relationships on their heads and seed doubt into everything about it.

And I can't ******* help it, you know? Like, is it not bad enough to be self destructive? Do I have to be destructive too? Do I have to tear at the hearts and minds of people that love me?

Can't I just simply love them in return?

No.

I have to claw and mangle. Unappreciative and unimpressed. Emotionless and cold.

What a striking indifference. Is it a lack of self fulfillment? Is it just a masochistic need to push myself from others. Is it a plea for help? A cry for attention?

Does it even ******* matter?

Are you burning out for answers?
Have you finally given up?
Did you think you'd ever find them?
When is enough enough?

Your burning fire's fading.
Your light is dimming down.
There's nothing left of valor.
What goes around comes around.

And I believe I'm sick of me.
All these fads. And all these popular magazines.
And I believe I'm sick of me.
I'm so tired of not knowing what to

Be alone. It's all we've ever known.
But all we know. It falls apart.
Singing on and on. I've known it all along.
But now I see that everyone here's gone.

But it isn't me you're seeing.
Halo. Lights. My ears are bleeding.
Waiting for a sad song to begin.
Lost in thought, my head is screaming.
Warning signs and empty feelings.
Thinking of the things that could've been.

And I believe I'm sick of me.
All ****** up and I'm just trying not to

Be alone. It's all we've ever known and all we know just falls apart.
Singing on and on but everything went wrong
And now I know that all of you are gone.

All of my life I've been picking at scars and scabs
Mending my bones and counting the stars and
Everything I've known has just disappointed me
But I can't let these disasters keep on defining me

All of my life I've been sitting in silence and
Watching myself be affected by the trivial things
Biding my time and biting my tongue so I
React out in anger at the breaking of illusions

So tell me dear. Assuage my fears.
That these tears don't flow in vain.
Your self harming is disarming.
Such an alarming way to cope with pain.

So I'm still waiting for your self hating to start abating but you won't listen.
And so you cry, afraid to die, the blood is dry. Still knife glistens.

So you wear wrist bands. Trace scars on your hands. Give into demands of your heart soaked in crimson. So draw the blade when the scars fade and don't you dare evade the questions.

Will you not come home? Are you not alone? Aren't we made of stone, of which will crumble? Is there too much strife to get things right? 'I hate my life,' she mumbles.

You know:

I started reading about self harm.

And I found that it was the only thing that broke my heart- my scarred and bruised heart was finally broken.

My heart swelled and gushed and broke for you.

And all those gashes.

How the skin swelled. Blood gushed.

How you broke.

And especially how you would lie. And say you're fine. Until your depression forced the truth from your lips.

And I remember all those bracelets. All those things to hide your wrists. And how TWLOHA was seemingly permanently engrained on your arms.

And I remember thanking God that it wasn't from a blade dug into your skin. And how it was funny and ironic because I didn't believe in Him then.

But I kept your secret for all these years. And I hope you're doing better.

I pray that you are.

And if you aren't..?
    Well, I guess you'd never tell me.

Not anymore.


And you see:

That's why I'm bitter. Why I'm angry. Why I'm hurt.

Just tell me honestly that you're fine and don't you dare tell me a lie.

Cause I was there.

And I remember.

And I still think about it all the time.


And believe me when I say that it has consumed me.

It affects the way I write.
And what I say.
And how I meant it.

It's about the only thing I write.

Words like: scars. Wrists. Etched. Carved.

See. I'm a liar if I say I still don't think about you all the time.

I'm growing bored of your complaints and all your narcissistic *******
About your plans and why they falter and why these guys just do not love you
And ain't it tiresome to keep on talking when you know not a soul is listening?
But you still blather on and on about the same old tired **** you used to

You're still pretentious and annoying with all your petty blabber
About the he said/she said nonsense and how you think it really matters
And all your endless ******* questions but you don't really want an answer
You're just crying for attention but you'll be prying here forever

No view from my window.
The clouds blanket the night sky.
Color me shades of gray.
The steam rises up
from the asphalt of the streets.
Beckoning me not to stay.
A distant rumble.
Lightening cracks over my head.
Thunder breaks as if to say.
'You're down for the moment.
Begging the silence.
But just get up today.'

She said 'I know there's a riot
going on up in your head,
but there doesn't have to be.'
She said, "You've been distant.
A little resistant.
But just come back to me.'

She's still waiting.
'I'm still fading.'
'So hold me now.'
'Have no regrets.'
'Don't let me down.'

I see her smile for the first time in so many days.
I think she thinks that I can be saved.
From myself, from what's left in my head.
She's saying sleep, but I stay awake instead.
This helplessness advances and there's no second chances.
I'm left here by myself.
She sits patiently.
She promised she'd wait for me.
She hasn't left me yet.

You're writing your sins down as scars on your wrists and you're hiding them all behind bright colored bracelets. And you're praying at night just to help you get sleep but you're so lonely at times that you can't eat.

And it gets lonelier still when all your friends start to change. Move to new places or move on to new things. But these things don't intrigue you. Not like it does them. So you shove it aside, try not to show your frustration.

There is no salvation. No escape from discontent. Only death dates etched into tombstone cement.

But your frustration's swelling to an ear splitting hum. And your heart's pounding rhythms in the beat of a war drum. There's a slash - a quick flick of the wrists. Broken mirrors. And tears. And fingers curled in fists.

You started tearing down the walls in the back of your mind. Just to find some solace or some peace of some kind. I hope that you find it - the reprieve you're looking for. If you feel disillusioned, I hope you won't anymore

It's okay to stay today but not tomorrow cause everything is ****** up

You got something going on I can't place my finger on you. Keep talking and I'll just keep on keeping on. Turn the lights down low and now you gotta go.

It's elementary and dear it's becoming clear to me. You're a fistful of rage and I guess it's kinda cool to me. Turn the lights down low and now you gotta go.

You've got tons of secrets and god knows that I just forget. You have lots of soul and I know just as much regret. Turn the lights down low and now you gotta go.

I know what you've been thinking. Not sure what you've been drinking but you're one of a kind. The kind that'll just be sinking. Turn the lights down low and now you gotta go.

We're going down in flames and
I'm trying to hold on but everything's just burning to the ground

Wake me when it thunders and when the storm rips the sky asunder. And we will wait for the current to pull us under.

And oh! You plunderer of souls, are we not foes? At least foils? Standing on the helm of the dichotomy of the world

And when you come back:
   Come back broken
        Come back beaten and forlorn

I won't feel pity
I won't feel much
I won't feel much of anything anymore

And all the letters, all the time I've spent alone
Has left me angry
Left me bitter

Has cut me deep and to the bone

We painted picture perfect skylines to veil every flaw that we'd uncovered but we're not so naive to think that it would be enough ever to paint the stars to hide the scars that she'd carved into her wrists and in her thighs and in her neck to give her hell to reminisce.

We watched in horror at the crumbling of the friends we've come to know. Watched them decaying rapidly from people living to caskets full of bone. He said "darling I was listening and I was watching all along and I tried to understand but you're dying all alone, so come back home."

But where is home when we're drowning in our doubt? Is it true that you're looking for a way out? Because I still see your light shining brilliantly.

So hold your breath and give in to  this. And fill your pockets full of stone. Walk to the river heavy footed and stand up on the shore. And listen up and listen in and watch the tide keep climbing in up to your feet and then your knees but it doesn't have to come this.

We painted picture perfect faces to hide the chaos in our minds but we spend every waking moment hoping it'll fade away in time. And so we pray the smile stays but always fear that it'll fade. And so we etched it in our skin so it can never fade away.