look into my eyes
and tell me what you see
now feel the pain from everything
you've ******* done to me
just like a deep sea dive
its a pressure that wont end
if i ever reach the surface
i'll still end up with the bends
i'm drowning in the drink
while i'm choking on the stink
i'm kept up every night
bleeding in the kitchen sink
so every time you see me
passing by from day to day
i hope you recognize my eyes enough
to know i'm not okay

These nights
Seem odd
Relaxing but out of place
Maybe I am out of place
I came to the conclusion
I think about the future and past too Much
I have forgotten the art of
Enjoying the day
How?
Slipped right out of my  fingers
Perphaps it's my fault
I may have had "fun"
But I fell behind a bit
Now I'm catching up

******* why does society
Make me have to speed of my life up

Why can't I just live off the land
Enjoy the companie  of nature
And the sky

For the remainder of my life

How sad

my heart punctured as a foot by broken glass
i reek of dried *** and my own rotting flesh
the scales of mother's womb cool the flaming mold
***** needles filled with rat's ****
picking my fresh scabs from lit cigarettes and pencil sharpeners
my tongue blackened from ink and tobacco
i taste the fungal poison which comes with death
and i sleep in my bed of satin and rusty nails
while tomorrow fills my nightmares
i awake in a puddle of secretion and sweat
breathing death into my lungs
as if welcoming an old friend
one last time

"don't let anyone you wouldn't want to be
inside you"
stuffy grandmothers whisper after bar mitzfahs
or quinceaneras or senior proms
while they are whisked away by the rough hands of boys.

protecting the inches between her legs
will always be more important than anything else.

ankles crossed sitting on the washing machine
until her mom slaps her across the face.

in sadness i find my comfort
the familiarity of sorrow keeps me moving
maybe not at quite as fast a pace
but moving nonetheless

in cigarettes i find my comfort
as i light one after another
remembering how you tasted
when we were addicted to us

in the razor i find my comfort
when the sharp steel blade is pressed to my skin
opening, splitting, cutting, bleeding
i say "you deserve this, you deserve all of this"
i drain my wrists of my sorrows

in violence i find my comfort
i cannot allow myself to display weakness
so i turn my pain and anxiety to blind rage
smashing and splintering and screaming
my knuckles ******* hurt but thats okay

in sadness i find my comfort
its the only thing that's stayed
through it all
just me
my cigarettes
my razor
my violence
and my beautiful, wonderful
sadness