I've been told
that I'm built like a fencepost
Kind of wiry
A few knobs here and there
A knot or two for character
I make a pretty good fence
Good at keeping things inside
Not letting things out
But now my shadow seems leaner
Not quite as tall in the morning sun
The soil around my feet eroding
Drying out isn't all it's cracked up to be
Staying straight ain't easy
The herd is getting restless
And the barbed wire on my back
is tearing me up inside.

r ~ 7/25/14

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and ****,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.

This is how I am
If you don't like it
Don't stay.
Simple as that

I've come to be
The kind of person
that doesn't stick around so long

I don't know who I am anymore
I don't know what I've become

Have you ever looked in the mirror
and seen a monster staring you down

I don't know who I am anymore
I constantly play games
I tug on their heart strings only
to rip them out when I leave
And leaving is something I've become good at

What am I supposed to tell you
That it's not you
It's me
Technically that is true
But that's not the point

What scares me the most is
Not being alone
But
Knowing that
Sooner or later
I'm going to leave you like the rest

I asked and she told me
It's normal
We're young
You don't have to commit

Just because this may be somewhat normal
Doesn't make it okay

I run around
hurting people and
playing with their heads
Whether I know it or not

I learnt to hate.
I never knew how it was
to hate someone so strongly
before
but now that I do
I think I know…
It’s like… sipping a bitter,
bitter coffee
so slowly
that the taste wraps around your tongue
and burns it.
It’s like… bringing a matchstick
closer to your chest
and letting it create a hole
a red, blazing hole.
It’s like… being the rose yourself
that the lover crushes in his hands
seeing the fragrance melt—
the petals wither
in your own existence.
It’s like… praying and not receiving
Dying… and not dying.
It’s like panting breathlessly for air—
and blocking all pumps out yourself
But is that hate?
Or did I just define
how it was
*To miss you?

There are voices inside my head. And for the first time
I realize, they weren't those demons I have believed.
Rather, it was mine. It was me, the whole time.

Prejudices and judgments
I have tattooed by myself,
on myself.
They sting like a thousand needles
puncturing through every bubble of idea
my mind blows.

They imprisoned me.

I have done this with myself.

Its sad really
Because the only reason I haven't killed myself yet
Is because I don't want to hurt anyone
But the reason I want to **** myself is because everyone is hurting me

sometimes the words you want to use. just wont come to mind
you end up in a muddle and words are left behind
things you want to say  gone now from your head
so you just try to improvise with different words instead

you pratice what you want to say. but the words all come out wrong
so you make them up as you go along
but the words i love you. these you dont forget
these are always there  and words you dont regret.

you always had such beautiful hair.
so short and honey blonde.  
every night you took your hair off
and I did not know why.
but underneath your hair
you had more hair.
your secret hair was long
brittle and thin.
it was silver, white, and grey.
you never showed your secret hair,
it was always wound tightly in a little bun.
I never saw that secret hair much
until you got sick.
you stopped wearing your honey blonde hair
as much.
I started to love your secret hair.
in the end,
it wasn't so secret after all.