To  the scientist
the heart is an *****
necessary to carry on living

and when it breaks
the scientist fixes it
with medicine and stitches

and the scientist knows
that once the heart is fixed
you can just keep on living
the same as before


To the artist
the heart is a masterpiece
necessary to carry on loving

and when it breaks
the artist fixes it
with music and poems

but the artist knows
that even though the heart is fixed
you can never just keep on loving
the same as before

-sg

"will you give me your whole heart, my darling?"

my darling, my love,
my heart is not whole
it's shattered in pieces
and the pieces are lost
for I've given them all away

I gave a piece to my mother
but she traded it for a diamond ring
as she traded her family
for a life with a rich older man

I gave a piece to my father
but he forgot all about my love
as he drank to forget his misery
and the love that he'd lost

I gave a piece to my baby sister
but she let it fall from her hands
as she fell too hard and too fast
into the arms of a handsome bad boy

I gave a piece to my best friend
but she took it six feet under
when she took her own life
because my love couldn't save her

I gave a piece to my first love
but he stole it from me
while he stole the hearts of other girls
because just one love wasn't enough

I kept only one piece for myself
but I threw it down a wishing well
wishing for a better life and
someone to love my broken heart

so forgive me, my love,
my heart is much to broken
to give you my whole heart
that you truly deserve

"then all I ask is for one piece, my darling"

so I gave the last piece to you
but as I laid it into your warm hands
I fell dead and laid on the cold ground
as my broken heart at last stopped beating

-sg

we walked into deep into the woods
and came upon a circle of tall birches
the smooth silver trunks marked with
initials of lovers long forgotten
who once swore their love would last
and thought to immortalise it
in the silver wood of the birch trees
where the white bark had peeled away
he ran he fingers carefully
up and down their slender trunks
feeling each little slash and ridge
though barely visible on their thin bark
then i flicked open my pocket knife
to carve our own initials into the wood
like the many young lovers before us
but as the blade touched the wood
he whispered to me quietly
"these trees are marked
by pale faded scars
like on smooth slender arms
their long delicate branches
are like slim white fingers
desperately reaching up to heaven
begging for another chance
and with help from the angels
their scars are slowly healing"
and again he ran his fingers over
their trunks to feel the white bark
then ran his fingers gently over the
pale skin of my scarred arms
and then my love, my angel
pressed his lips to each slash and scar
as if trying to heal what had been done
so I put away my blade
deciding that my love for him
would last forever
longer than the bark of the birch trees
and longer than an old scars

-*sg

Just depressed? Do you even know what depression feels like? Do you know what it's like to make a list of a thousand ways to die and thinking constantly of the day when you choose one? Do you know what it's like to be the happiest you've ever been one minute but find yourself crying yourself to sleep the next? what about not sleeping at all? Do you know what it's like to have to walk the school hallways like you're dragging weights from your ankles? Do you know how it feels to get worried looks from that one teacher who senses your sadness but won't take the step to reach out to you? God, I wish someone would. Do you know what it's like to be so sad you can't even cry and you just sit there like you're dead? For hours? For days? Longer? Do you know what it's like to not even know the reason why you're feeling like you do? Do you know what it's like to even not be able to change how you feel? Do you think it's easy to "just be happy"? Oh believe me I want to be. Do you know what it's like to be at mercy to a chemical imbalance? To rely on pills just to remain "normal"? Oh please, can I just know what it's like to be normal like everyone else? Do you know what it's like for your brain to be your own worst enemy? Do you know what it's like to pretend that you're ok while this is happening to you? While you're dying on the inside and wishing you could speed up the process? Oh and by the way, no one can even help you. No one can truly understand you, except for yourself. No one. Not even the people you swear you love most of all. You know what? Sometimes you don't even understand yourself. All you know is that any happiness is fleeting and surely will soon be gone. Never-- not in a day, month or year-- can you ever find permanent relief. You feel like there are two different people occupying your body. One loves life and laughs at jokes that aren't even funny and falls in love and reads books and listens to good music and loves the sunshine. The other is a miserable and deeply self loathing being that wants to drown in darkness and spreads like a black sickness through your body wishing to take over it. The other is depression. Sadly, the other too often succeeds in taking over. You are no longer the person that loves life and laughs at jokes that aren't even funny and falls in love and reads books and loves the sunshine.  Jokes don't make you laugh anymore. Books are only a collection of meaningless words. Music is only thin repetitive sound. When the sun is out, you'd prefer to stay inside with the curtains drawn shut. As for loving life, you're not even sure you want to live anymore. You become depression; Depression becomes you. Sometimes you still like to pretend to be that happy person, but that person is barely alive anymore. You still pretend because pretending may just be the only thing keeping you sane. Other times you feel like neither the happy person nor the other are present in you. You're simply empty. You're breathing and you feel a pulse at your wrist, but inside you are nothingness. You are merely half-existing. Sometimes the emptiness hurts more than being completely consumed by the other. It hurts. It's painful. More so than any blade one can take to their own skin. I would give anything just to be able to be happy, to NOT have depression anymore, but I can't. I can't and its not fair. I've come to learn that life isn't fair, but why does this have to be my life? Did some awful omnificent being choose to make me like this? If you aren't depressed, you're **** lucky. Why is it becoming just another trend? Why on earth would you pretend to have such a horrible disorder? Why would you glamorize it with pictures of beautiful, delicate girls with pretty curls in little floral dresses dancing through a field with tears in their eyes with movie quote captions in cursive? Its not pretty. Its ugly; its sad. But, hey, you know exactly what depression is like, don't you?

I.

I went to wendy's yesterday
and I saw ed on the other day
and he carried with him, a bagful of books
and came along will, and saw him
they exchanged looks
and Will asked for some 'tools'
So came along Kim
who wore too much makeup
and she sat on the chair beside me
to look for boys who she would
hook up with.

II.

I went to wendy's yesterday
and I saw ed on the hay
and he carried with him, a handful of smokes
and he started to fling the smoke and breath in the air Inside his throat.
Then came along will, and saw him
he passed him a light, and gave a wink
they exchanged gifts
and ed asked for more ***
and will handed him, and ed gave his jackpot
So came along kim
who wore shorts and tops that showed her breast
she sat to the chair beside the teenager
and want to flirt with him over the motel
and gave her a wink
as she grabs the jackpot.

III.
I went to wendy's yesterday
and ordered for a milkshake
when I saw ed by the counter with his tray
and he carried with him, a gray bag full of *******
and he started to tuck it between him,
as he ordered a burger and some fries.
Then came along will, and saw him
he passed him the pack, and gave him a smile
they exchanged gifts
and will gave him the cash
and ed stashed the burger wrapper in the trash
So came along kim
who wore a mini skirt and tops that showed her cleavage
She sat to the chair beside the man
and the man smiled and gave her some cash
and gave him a wink
as he follow her to the motel

IV.
For graduation,
I came to wendy's to celebrate
and ordered salads for the day
and then I saw ed outside
handcuffed by the police for selling cyanide
and then I saw Will inside
displeased and gave a sigh
and brought out a smoke
to feel it's air deeply inside his thigh
that's when Tracey pointed to kim,
and told me she was selling some thing
and that she couldn't go with us to celebrate
Because of the baby in her den.
And lewis pointed to ed,
Said he was addicted
to the things that we weren't suppose to take.

V.**
I went yesterday at wendy's
and saw the coffin that was ed's
and saw the gun that Will was holding,
as he began to get the **** out of the man.
I chewed my burger that day at wendy's
and can't help but ask why
why the people was circling
around Kim's body.
By the sidewalk.

In the midnight tree,
I heard her calling out to me,
Butterfly wings adorned,
Couldn't mask her succubi smile,
Or devilish horns,
But still she flew,
Majestic, graceful,
and oh so pretty,
And I watched as she sang,
Sang those sweet sweet melodies.

She didn't speak, not in human tongues,
But every word she spoke was true,
"John, John, John,"
I came to her, then from out the tree,
mesmerized, hypnotized,
Her image is memorized,
And she revealed herself to me,
Her naked purity,
Now, I must admit,
with my own sly grin,
That in the air of that midnight tree,
Did I ravish her,
Quite intimately.

her insecurities are little girls wrapped in ribbons and frilly dresses and fighting for attention
   and her confidence kisses each one goodnight every night and never forgets.

her fears are stubborn old men drunk on nostalgia and whiskey and longing for youth
   and her faith is the loyal friend that never fails to call at just the right time.

i sat up all night

watching cartoons

and smoking cigarettes

thinking about how much distance

i've put between myself and my childhood

and what a shame

it would be

to ever lose

my youth.

sometimes when
i'm in too deep,
i lose feeling in
my hands and feet,
and i start to
breathe too quick,
and my cold palms
become slick,
my vision is now
a blur of light,
keep calm now
my mind is a fight,
i pull at my
hair and skin,
as if there was a present
under layers so thin,
do not touch
me for i will scream,
just leave me alone
to blow off some steam.