Conversations cause friction
and loss of conviction
it's a fiction addiction
that's my affliction

I can't give you a proper depiction
on reality's constriction
though there's a strong prediction
of life's soon eviction

It's the definition
of crucifixion
waking up is cause for benediction
from interdiction

obsessed with science fiction
with an aura of dereliction
because life's infliction
has too much restriction

I daydream constantly
because reality hurts.
I keep my eyes closed
because when I open them
I see everything I'll never achieve.
I keep my head up in space
because there, even in death there is beauty
but down here death is ugly,
as with each passing day.
.
I lock myself in my room
because the world is a horrible place.
I turn off the light-
because even this room shows humanity's true nature
I dare not look back at that mirror,
for even in the faintest of moonlight I can make out
the monster that stands in my place.
.
I spend each day in misery, because that is how I learned to be happy.
Happy hurts,
Happy is quick,
Like fleeting love
I hate the feeling
of losing something so quick.
I block it out.
I fill my aching body with unused, dusty tears.
I hear my body groan under the pressure but I do not let it out.
I do not let the misery out,
because then Happy will have a chance to seep through
but with Happy comes horror and sorrow
and other such I cannot bear.
Happy hurts more than this depression ever could,
so I've decided to be nothing but that.
I hold up each day in a wicked,
painful misery,
while others might say it unhealthy
I feel it as nothing but fuel,
nothing but quick snaps of the whip
that keep me going,
just barely alive,
hardly breathing,
stiff like a tin-man
-
I hide from what's real,
I hide from what's happy,
because Misery is the only thing keeping me here.

I
cannot sing
hardly speak
but my fingers
can press the keys
can pluck the strings
I
cannot sing you a love song
but I
can write a tune
so long
so dark
so deep
it'll make you close your eyes
make up your own lyrics
and you won't need to hear my voice
to know exactly how I feel

my eyes are raw
and sting
from the constant blotting
of deep
and soulful
resurrections of emotions,

perhaps I would feel better
If I stopped trying to hide them.

skinny.


I have trouble sympathizing
and empathizing
and condoling
those who open up their dark secrets
when it comes alight
that their secret is of the weighted, edible variety.

You say you struggled with weight
you couldn't keep it on
barely swallow a bite
you got so sick
and it was so bad
---
I must refrain,
as you speak,
from bowing down,
from praising you,
from questioning how you achieved
such beautiful strength
to become so skinny.

Your nightmare is my fantasy
your dark memory
is my desired future
Your shame
is my pride
Your wicked sorrow of the events
is glory in my eyes.

But I won't say that
no
I can't.
can't tell you how I envy
something that hurt you so,
but you can be sure
I'll be thinking it
feeling it
breathing it
forever.

Kiss every inch of me
show me how it's supposed to be
     tell me you'll be good to me...
down my neck in the dark
careful you don't leave a mark
     I want to keep this between us two...
                  promise you won't think less of me
      I just want to be set free
         care for me     ah
         be careful with me...
and promise you won't think less of me

I'm not who I am,
I'm not who I wanna be,
I hate where I'm at
I'm not what I say.
I'm not who I claim to be
nothing to set me free
Trapped inside a shell
is this me?
I can't tell.
Perfect,
It's not mine to claim
I deserve no such fame
I used to treat life as a game,
but that's what brought me to this world of pain.
Oh Vanity, sweet insanity
teach me what I don't,
it's a fear of what I won't.
Do nothing but speak
I am one of the weak,
Vanity comes with such calamity,
make me feel okay,
from now until the end of days.

Insomniac
driven by dry tears
a barely beating heart,
and scarce,
pained lungs.
In the dark,
eye lids lowering.
Staying awake with fear,
without a choice,
cold on a hot summer's night
the shivers em pattern themselves on my skin,
a pattern of another's arms.

Shivers tracing up and down my body,
imprinting themselves
to a place,
in a time where maybe I am not so lonely.
Curled up,
pale and frail,
long sovereign hair in tangles
with sad eyes
glistening with the tears
that are yet to come.

The house is empty.
The air is quiet.
Nothing but the quiet heartbeat of
me, myself, and I.

A distant melody of a land faraway,
where I do not mind being lonely.
But that is not where I am.
I am in a place where the shivers
run up and down my arms
with every minute
of every day.

I feel the loneliness closing in.

Shrinking into myself,
I hate that feeling,
of being cold on a hot summer's night.

Empty rabbit holes
no wonderland
I live in winterland
head up in hinterland
frozen kneeling at the stand
holding out my hand
snowflakes are falling
not touching me though
arctic fox calling
under branches low
beneath the white
fox colored
fox match
they won the fight
they live in hinterland
head up in winterland
take me to where they fish
in sunhordland

The key is to remember,
I really do not matter,
not to a single person I meet,
not to a passerby on the street,
To unlock happiness
and never be disappointed,
the key is to remember
I am nothing
and no one.

it was just a few days ago
I asked What Is Love?
I was so afraid
I might never know it,
and here I am
tears in my eyes
"9-1-1
I'm having a heart attack"
I was so afraid
I might never know it
now I'm afraid
this is what it feels like
I'm afraid I've fallen in love
and I pray
please god
if this is love
take it away
take it away
it hurts
it hurts.

Why can't we just read?
I love to read,
we all do,
somewhere inside.
I love the way the words flow,
I love how quickly it transports me
to vivid new worlds.
I like the feeling of fragile paper
and the smell of a dusty,
long forgotten book.
Pages of excitement bound together,
you think it could never lose its magic,
but you'd be wrong.

You go to school
and the magic is lost.
These light words that mean so much
are weighted down and draped in logic,
the book becomes dull and painful.

I don't care if the colour of the curtains
is a metaphor for the author's struggle with homosexuality,
I don't care to take this painted porcelain
and smash it into bits,
entirely digested,
sorted into categories,
and picked into nothing.
I do not wish to burn away
the heart and soul
to leave nothing but the bones.
I read to escape,
to love,
to learn,
to experience,
I read to forget where I really am.

I do not wish
for the thought of this fantasy tale,
to be flogged over the head repeatedly
with reality.
I wish to forget,
read for pleasure,
read for interest,
read for love,
read because I want to,
read to fully appreciate
the well-thought out story
by a person long gone.

Is that too much to ask for?

Happy Thanksgiving
it's time to feast
set the dinner table
polish the silverware
and eat till you're sick.
Happy Thanksgiving,
I'm thankful for being alone in the house,
I'm thankful for having no money,
or family
to have an event.
For my feast
I'll be having air,
self loathing
regret
disgust
I'll be eating my misery
and when I'm done,
I'll purge it out,
purge out nothing
but purge none the less
just to make sure,
happy thanksgiving,
to you
to me
to us all.

I'm stuck in the past
living for the future
always thinking
never doing
responding
reacting
never waiting
letting my imagination get the better of me
stuck in my head
stuck
like a stick in the mud
I don't mean to be
but end up
just that.

It's time to be stuck in the present.
to live for the now.
Always doing
waiting to react and respond
calm the thousand scenarios in my head
stuck in my heart
stuck
like an impulsive juvenile
like I mean to be
and end up
just as I've always wanted to be.

I eat well
I sleep well
I **** well
I dream well
I laugh well
I bathe well
I breath well
I live well


so   why    don't     I    feel   well

I looked into my shadow,
black with such ignorant purity,
yet with the good judgement
I am void of
to shout out
"Don't look at the mirror!
Don't you dare even glance!"
Why not? I'd ask,
foolishly looking into
the reflective glass,
eyeing the pink,
pudgy,
fat,
stupid,
repulsive
stain on society that is me.
Cringing at the image that displeases me so,
the image that has caused the scars on my wrists.
the image that haunts my days
and steals away my nights.

it hurts.

"Because the mirror is a liar"
My shadow replied.
"Because the mirror is a monster,
what you see there is not you,
what you see there is pain.
Look closer,
for that slight warp in the mirror
that gives you a slant to your mouth
is not a malfunction of manufacture-
but of the mind,
carefully crafted
and polished
by society
that you are not good enough,
that you are something you should be ashamed of
until you hand them those so easily torn papers
you've spent so long working for
so you can be chiseled down to nothing
and pumped with plastic
to satisfy a twisted need
for standardization.
That is why you don't look in that mirror.
Because you will not see yourself,
you will see a false projection
of everything you've been told
is not okay."


I tore my eyes away from the mirror-
And for a moment.
just for a moment.
I believed that I was pretty.

I have always loved
the winged beasts,
graceful,
powerful,
fiery,
that dwell in the mountains,
who horde gold
and beautiful women,
aware
of their power,
their enchantment.

It's no wonder, really,
that I fell instantly for you,
it's no mystery
why my heart pangs for your touch,
you graceful, powerful beast,
escaping society on your adventures
through the mountains,
you've got the gold
and no problem getting a beautiful woman
because you are aware
of your power
and enchantment.

You are a rare find,
you are the oldest fairytale,
you are
what has always been,
my fantasy.

Why do we like who we like?
I know nothing about him,
but his voice lingers in my head
his fierce opinions carry conversations
to an elevated balance.
He's got an interesting style
and tall sturdy build,
his dark eyes pierce the soul
and how I wish they would linger on me...
but why should they?
What do I have that would make him interested?
I have no claim on knowledge of him
I can't even tell you why he is bald.
I can tell you, though,
when it comes to names,
that where most would place a C
he puts a *K

"oh god, seeing you in that dress
makes me realize just how fat you've gotten
why didn't you brush your hair?
I don't care if you wanted it curled that way it looks awful!
who's he?
he looks like a freak,
this is disgusting
I can't believe you embarrassed me this way
you nasty **** I bet you lied to me too!
I don't understand where I went wrong
to have such an ugly sinning daughter"


oh yes,
what would I be without my mother?
happy.
I'd be happy.

Come with me space boy,
don't let gravity get you down
let me kidss that tender frown
do not let go-these failsome hands
to me
you are king
of these lesser mans
so please do not stay
I see your eyes stray
I gie you all I can
the ship to the expand
it leaves at 6 o'clock
grasp my body and rock
we could be together forever
so I ask you not to say
I'm floating away
come with me space boy,
it is all I've ever asked.

My bird nose
hooks
in a regal fashion
that makes my face
old mean and stony.
It results in a feeling of ugliness
associated with Goblins.
Perhaps they would accept me as one of them.
Perhaps one day, I could rule them.

She sat in the artist's warehouse
listening to the quick drip drops of fresh rain
becoming polluted as they passed through rusted drains
and lightly onto ***-holed puddles filled with crushed cigarettes.
She let her warm breath
spool into the air and fill the silence,
she closed her eyes, smiled,
a private moment to recall
what made her smile,
what made her sit in the artist's warehouse writing poetry
rhymes about how light her heart felt,
how clean and fresh the air she breathed was,
how she couldn't keep herself from smiling
when she thought of him,
how he touched her,
looked at her,
how he breathed into her
an earth shattering exhileration
of posisbility, curiosity, fascination
and unexpected livlihood....
She opened her eyes
and caught her breath,
as she did every time
she thought of him
and how he made her feel.
She uncrossed her legs
threw back her head
and came one step closer
to understanding what it was
she wanted
for her heart.

I found an old box
of disposable latex gloves
and became
  entranced
  aroused
  foolish
I pulled them on,
   becoming breathless as their fibers
   closed tightly around my fingers
shaking
I raised a hand
to my throat
and let it caress
and clamp
tightly around it
the other hand
smoothing into my stomach,
together they moved
and groped
and pulled
tracing memories
of latex gloves on my body
desecrating my temple
praising my goddess
freeing me of-
         - I ripped them off-
                                       exhausted
                                       breathless
                                       ashamed
          I wanted more
          I wanted to ask for more
          I wanted to run back and ask
          I was still his sub his slave
          I fell to my knees and worshipped
          I was ashamed I felt weak
          I didn't care
        
          I wanted more

It is an everlasting headache,
one to torment the soul.
It is a constant throbbing of the cranium,
from which I suffer.

It is the feeling of a knife on your skin,
It is the feeling of a bat against your bones
It is the feeling of wires bound around your chest
                               squeezing till' you nearly burst.

It is the result of loneliness
It is the result of starvation
It is the result of an addiction
                            to something quite sick.

Something form the yellow of your nails
the shedding of hair
and thin skin
where veins pulse a quiet blue.

A something not many people notice,
save for their glossy eyes;
   windows to the soul they once had,
but lost, so long ago.

I looked,
I looked long and hard
and shouted-
"you're ugly,
you're atrocious
you're revolting
boring
and plain
aloof
unobservant
and so, so pathetic.
You're nothing but a useless,
worthless piece of trash
My God, could you be any more sad?
Stop those tears,
Nobody cares.
It's true what they say,
you'll never be loved,
you can't even make a decision by yourself!
So many symptoms, so many ails,
stop blaming them all on your daddy issues.
So you say you wanna die?
Then do it,
what's stopping you?
praying that someone will miss you?
Well grow up, because they won't,
grow up, grow up!
older with each day
but still just a child inside,
cocooned in your ailments on a tear-stained pillow.
Stop crying,
you ***** little mutt,
why do you keep waiting for others to sew you up and fix you?
Is it because your bones are so weak
you can hardly rise in the morning?
Is all of this true?
You know it is,
My God, you are such a sad little creature."

I've said all I've needed to say,

So I step back from the mirror.

I walked by the counter

and noticed the roses,

drained pigment

now pink

and wrinkled

crisp and withered.

I think to myself

why, when ever did that happen?

only yesterday they stood tall and red.

You hate the sound of your own voice
Too manic to make a ******’ choice
Trapped in your head
Can’t get out of  bed
Cold like you’re dead
You don’t know what you want
Jealous of the girls and how they flaunt
You want to be just like that
But you think you’re too fat
So you try to be zef
Scared to tell people you’re a little more than deaf
A little thought like this
Is death’s sweet kiss
Comatose for hours
Fretting and crying
Scorching hot showers
Sick of denying
You hate your own existence
Wish you could stop the resistance
Stop Hell’s persistence
Reach for social assistance
Hiding away in sleep
Wishing dream boys would keep
Scared by your daddy
Fukin stuck way back then
Tellin’ yourself you a fatty
Meditating-you think you’re so ******* zen
But you’re throwing things
And screaming sins
And sawing down your wings
Pretending you’re wearing different skins
Just to cope
With having no hope
You’ll ever get better
You’ve made your own fetter
And you have no ****** idea
How to live as a whole human
Shaky hands never made a stria
Permanently in ruin
An evercrashing mistake
You feel there’s so much at stake
You don’t know where to begin
So you just stand so ****** still
Spending every day ill
Wishing someone would touch your cold hand
And finally understand
That when it comes to this blockage
You’re an already dead hostage.

I heard you like models
tall
pretty
and thin

I heard they're half your age.
I don't care.

I'll wear those heels
cut my skin
and starve myself,
maybe someday I'll be good enough for you.

You think because I ****** your ****

we're bonded forever.

Don't "make love" to me

**** me like a man

I can't be doing all the work.

work work

that's all this is

I'm tired now

and skin is lacking bruises.

this isn't any fun.

I'm cutting our ties

let's just be friends

grow up young man

the world is darker than you think

I am sicker than your drink

I crave something skinnier

and more deranged than you.

Take your health and scamper off,

For I crave poison

of an older age.

I crave poison

that will leave its marks

I crave poison

that will **** me in the end.

No one ever gives me flowers,
but I was given a rose,
I hung it upside down
and let it dry
and turn crisp.
My room is now empty save for the rose.
I untie it from the ceiling and carry it outside.
The blood red rose is now black
and trembles to pieces at my touch.
I snap it
and let it crumble
into a stream
and let the water
wash it
away.

"What If"s that creep under my skin
"What If"s turning moldy from being locked within,
"What If"s that haunt each day and night,
"What If"s that kick and scream with fright.
What if his smile grows dim?
What if I hurt him?
What if he let's go?
What if I never let him know?
What if I go under?
What if the remains are left asunder?
What if I can't resurface?
What if I do a great disservice?
What if I breath in but not out?
What if my eyes forget how to shout?
What if I give in?
What if I never end the sin?
What if my bones turn brittle?
What if my heart is really this little?
What if I lie?
What if I never cry?
What if I stay like this?
What if it's me that I miss?
What if each lash fends?
What if the message sends?
What if reality bends?
What if this, is how it ends?

Let's play Hide-And-Seek.
I'll go hide,
and you have to find me.
Count to 100
and I'll off-
are you ready
here we go
1-10 keep counting
While I hide
20-28
it's up to you to figure it all out-
you sneaky cheat!
skipping right to 90
well fine then.
You think you can find me so easy?
you think you know where
and how
I hide?
You don't, trust me you don't.
Keep wandering, that's the way,
yes I was hiding there a minute ago
but not anymore.
Now I'm on the ***** of my feet,
stalking you,
like prey,
is that what you are to me?
I can't even tell anymore.
I wanted you.
I wanted you to find me.
If you find me you get my heart,
but that's the trick, see,
I'm not sure I want to be found.
So I'll change my spot
and keep running,
keep circling you and tracing your steps
I'll keep going until it's you that is hiding
and me that is seeking.
I'll ask you,
I'll ask the world,
count to 100
and come find me,
but each time
you get so close
a hairs breath away from finding me
Off I run
away
away
where you'll never find me.
Because that's the trick, see,
I don't want to be found.

Deep in the womb,
an innocent beating,
unaware of the terror outside.
Ignorant
and thrashing,
begging to move-
to be released
and learn.

Emerging only to see
darkness
in an abandoned society.
The need to thrash replaced by the need to sit still
and keep things as they were.
That need to learn diminished
by the forced ignorance
and fear of truth.

That small,
beautiful being
would grow large in size
but small in mind
while living in this corrupted world.

I'm a desperate teen but not Faking It
I'm ugly and awkward but not Miranda
Talentless and scared but not Girls
Food rules my life but this isn't Skins
My family is big but repulsively unlike Modern Family
I'm quirky and alone, but cruelly never Amelie
I'm a misfit uncared for so why isn't this Glee?
I'm poor and kind but there will never be Boys Before Flowers
I have deep dark secrets but not like Degrassi
I live a life like many others
but with one difference
it's not a sitcom
it's not a show
there aren't perks to being a wallflower
and it all doesn't turn out okay,
which makes everything a lot less okay.

She eats a thai chicken salad amidst a crowded restaurant,
no one notices her sitting there.

swimming with supermodels and billionaires at the spire-
so unnoticed she might as well be one of them.

A smooth jazz club,
she stays hidden in cigar smoke.

she wanders the city
night and day
yet no eyes meet hers,
no accidental shoulder brushes,
she walks tall and strong
ten pounds lighter than before
with smooth skin and silky hair,
yet she goes unnoticed,
she passes through the city
like a cool breeze,
and nothing more.

Who are you,
that likes my poems?
Who adds them to your collections
                                           shares
                                           likes
                                           comments
who are you,
to react to my emotion?

Would you, too,
like the way that I laugh?
Would you collect memories with me
                     share your hopes and dreams
                     like my smile
                     comment on the way I dress
would you, too,
react to my stories of what prompted these words?

Who are you, that reads my poetry?
and if we met,
should you think of me, too, as poetry?

Whats it been,
four, five years?
I can't shake the thought of you.
Each year I want you more
wish you were mine
and have my heart shudder
with each girl you put your arm around.
I'm always so scared though,
scared you're too short
and I'm too tall
afraid I'm not interesting
or pretty enough
or maybe you're not pretty enough for me,
though I'm always afraid of not being what you need.

You're always there for me,
you know I'm hurting
and each year, I hear,
you can't shake the thought of me,
they're probably lies
but it makes my heart fly
and I'll pretend I didn't cry,
what's wrong with me?
You reach out and I reach back
but just as our fingers touch
I'm too scared to hold on, and I fall,
but you always wait for me to climb back up.

but how long will you wait?
I need to get it together,
man up,
finally tell you everything that hurts,
then you'll pull me up,
and maybe everything will be okay.

It's dark in here,
in the caverns of my heart,
it's cold and still
where my blood should be flowing.
Caress my cheek,
look into my eyes,
know that I am yours,
and you will never be mine.
It's damp here,
where I sleep,
from modest tears
shed like rain,
just a drop to go unnoticed in a storm
to fall upon your shaggy locks.
Darling shield your face,
rather I shall do it for you.
Hate to see your makeup run like this,
yet so fitting
when melting down to your wide smile.
Darling let go of her hand,
darling do not make me sad.
How many hearts
you have broken,
how many hands held like mine,
brief and behind her back.
Do not look at me with those eyes,
do not rest your head upon my lap,
do not hold me long after the public eye is gone.
Darling I am sad.
I know you are too,
but darling you are hurting others,
leaving limp surprises
for their mothers.
My love you do not mean it,
but my love you are cruel.
You are the monster
taking on the form of a boy
cowering under his blanket.
My love you make me ache,
but my love,
my darling,
you need help.

Sleep is the natural state
humbled and secure,
aluminum containers feed energy into me
coffee stained teeth
vanilla spice energy tea
smashing through my veins,
              the only way for me to stay alive
                                                           ­             is if I am forced

Today was the first time I felt it.
As I looked into that wretched reflection,
the feeling washed over me.
Nothing but self loathing and disgust.

I hate my fat face
and my fat body.
I hate my acne
I hate my frizzy hair
I hate my awkward body
I hate my limp
I hate my grades
I hate how alone I am
How unwanted I am
I hate how I can't talk to people
I hate how ******* ugly I am...

It was the first time I felt that feeling,
of convulsing into that mirror,
smashing it to bits
and using the shards to paint
the walls and floor a gruesome red.
It was a new feeling,
but one that I knew
would soon become all too familiar.
All too common.

Death didn't scare me.
The pain didn't scare me.
What scared me,
is to think about all the people it would effect...
and by that,
I mean no one.
no one at all.
They wouldn't notice if I left.
They wouldn't care.

Mark it down.
10/11/12
I willed myself to end.

her heart beats strongly for him
                 she wants to love him
                         she truly does
                                 she just has to figure out
                                                                              *how

Do not mistake me when I say that I fell,
for I did not fall in love,
not persay
not perchance
I fell long ago as a child
and I shattered.
I shattered and each of those
broken pieces reflected a monster.
And though through life
I have reached for the light
the darkness continues to encase me
consoling me with the one solitary fact
that only a monster can put me back together again.

Do not mistake me when I say that I fell,
for I did not fall in love,
I fell into a sickness.

I fell,
into the dark.

I miss
your hands
                     praising
your eyes
                   worshipping
I miss
   being better than human-

I miss the Goddess you introduced me to
and I am left in want
    of desire,
        adoration,
and absolute
        glorification

What do you do when you look around and all you see is black?
You strain your heart each day as you search for something good,
But only find the graveyard
Where love comes to die
And lies grow like weeds.
Holding onto that rope
With bleeding hands,
Holding onto the last strand of hope
With a bleeding heart.
I look around
And feel all is lost:
The world is cruel- selfish
And spiteful and I am no exception
I accept that,
The world is dark and unforgiving
But it’s up to us,
We have to be strong even when we are broken
We have to paint that canvas bright
Until the love finds its way through,
Even just the slightest bit,
The tiniest effort,
can change everything.

1 minute 15 Seconds
(I counted)
we stood there silent
I couldn't look at you
were you looking at me?
Why did we stay silent?
why did you stay?
the campus was emptying
but still we remained.
Were you trying to say something
as much as I was?
I had to restrain myself
from asking you out to coffee,
do you like coffee?
I don't.
But asking someone out for tea sounds weird.
Anxiety rumbles in my stomach
and my mind ricochets to the moon and back~
so many possibilities why you're there with me
any possible meaning behind your actions-
I'm so scared there isn't
I'm so scared there is
You stress me out, Blue,
what did you think
for that quiet time?
I thought of everything
and counted in my head
trying to find significance
in the amount of time we spend.
We were quiet
for 1 minute 15 seconds
and I couldn't see your face
legs shaking
locked in place
So many things to say
but in all my thinking
and guessing
and fretting
I couldn't(can't)
figure out
if saying those things
would be okay.