They closed my file at CAHMS, but I don't feel better, or happy.
I feel hollow. I have spilled my secrets, confessed my sins, and now there is nothing left of me that is mine and mine alone. Its been over a year since I was told I didn't need them anymore,
But I'm just worse.
This life is cold and cruel and its not getting better.

The depression no longer ****** me
Nor does it bite or scratch
Or tear its way to my skin
From the depth of my core, outward
But occasionally, on my dark days
I will feel a nibble
On my lung or my heart
Reminding me that its still there
That its hungry
It wants feeding. So I do.
I give it my grief and my anger
And everything that keeps me whole
Until I am a little less complete
But it is no longer hungry
And it can no longer nibble
Or scratch, or bite through
My every capillary
I am incomplete
But I am happy
Almost.

Do I dare,
Dare I not,
Forsake the heart
You have forgot?
Lest the winds
Wildly blow
And shower me
With a frozen glow
Of hearts ablaze
In winter's frost
And a shadowed haze
Of lovers, lost.
Dare I love you
Once again
Or let the cold
Come creeping in?
And your love, as cold as ice
Freezes me under my skin
Winter is not far away
Let the chill of hearts begin.

They'll tell you
That they want you
And they need you
And they love you
But the truth is
Love is a dog from hell
And you're just a stack
Of bones

we are in constant turmoil
Always thinking
Always judging
Over evaluating the possibilities
Life after death,
Death before life
Heaven, hell,
Twisted carnage of dreams
Thinking that there is something,
Someone to greet us
When the veil of two worlds
Distinctly apart
But woven together
Shimmers and dies away
And we ask how, not why
how can there be life after death
Dear, I must assure you
Those are questions
That will remain unanswered
La Mort n'a peut-être
pas plus de secrets à nous
reveler que la vie

The thing about love
Is that in the excitement
Of offering yourself
To someone you lust for
You have exposed
Your heart, your soul.
And in that lustful surrender,
You lose both.

The night is still
Holding it's breath
In anticipation of the charcoal clouds
That are rolling in
Like a rising tide,
And with whips and cracks
The skies break their banks
And rain pours forth
From the heavens
And the clouds collide
Like gunshots in the air,
Bones breaking against wind,
Light scatters across the atmosphere
A haze of purple and blue
Fleeting, but brilliant
Passionate, but deadly
A tremor that shakes the walls
Of brick and stone houses
A wound ripped in the sky
Electrical blood seeping through
the cracks and crevices.
The storm is upon you.

To anyone feeling sad right now, these are not the moments you will remember, in 5 years time when your smile stuns even the coldest of hearts, you will not remember this date and time, and you will not remember that your sorrow once tried to eat you alive and you sat and felt tears roll down your face. These are the moments that will blur and fade from your memory until you are left with the slightest haze of recollection that things were not perfect once, but the happiness you feel will drown that out until you perceive sadness as a fractured figment of a dream that visited you long ago. You are not your losses, your failures, you are the extent to which you loved, not the numbers of those who loved you in return. This sadness is temporary, your dreams, your hope, that is eternal. Be defined by your joy, it leaves deeper impressions.

I am the pen without the ink
The ocean without water
The night without stars
I am void
Empty, lonely,
A black hole
Of turmoil and hate
I've always had love to blame
But with this emptiness
That sits in my chest
I've learnt that I really dont like you
But I'll forgive you
Because I love you
I love you.

Its not so much sadness more the disappointment of thinking I meant something to you and thinking that if I smiled wide enough you would notice my lips and that would make you think about kissing me because all I really wanted was for you to kiss me, but thoughts like that they ricochet off the walls in your head like lead bullets until they fall away into pieces and the impulse was so fleeting it was barely even there, but I still have the image of your lips and your skin branded into my mind and filling my head like wine and I want to get drunk on you and everything that we could have been. But with your blue eyes and my brown hair we were like night and day and when it came to love I was a summer's day and you were December 5th when it snowed and snowed and my lips went blue and you could have made them warm again but your heart didn't beat like mine and now mine is a weak drum beat and yours pounds for someone else and with all this spilled ink that you'll never see I wish you would have just kissed me.

'Summertime blues'
An odd saying, isn't it?
That something so bright
And sun filled
Could be paired with something
So sorrowful
And gloomy
But it's the middle of June
And its rained all week
And you haven't spoken to me
In months
So I can understand why
The sun has disappeared
But I cannot bear to listen to rain
For it sounds too much like
Your sweet pulse
That kept all my clouds at bay
But the sun has gone
And taken you with it
And my clouds
Have all
Escaped.

I haven't posted in a while because I've been so focused on my happiness and I've been smiling and happy but its one of those nights where the world crushes me and I realise that I'm not fooling anyone, least of all myself, I need to be tall and slim and confident with quiet opinions and a laugh that doesn't sound like thunder. I need to be everything and more for those I love, I must be strong for people who cannot carry themselves and I must be smart enough to make my mother proud because there is no joy like hers. But sunlight if often hidden by clouds and we had a storm today and in the rain I heard your heartbeat and I recalled how you hurt me and the wounds you left re-opened, and with my exposed flesh and a bitter taste on my tongue I collapsed like the stars and the cosmos will collapse one day. One day when there is no one left to remember me and no one left to remember that once upon a century I was alive and I had shakey breath and friends that shone like the sun that will soon burn out and no one will remember that I lived and no one will know that I died with a rock in my heart where I put it to stop the blood flowing and I hate it I hate it I hate it. I hope heaven is nice but I'm not going there yet.

Do you ever get those days? When the only thought running through your mind is 'I want to go home'
But you are home. You are in your bed with lungs that don't feel like yours and a pulse that sounds more like a drum and you can't hear anything but your own intrusive thoughts and you want to go home. To a skin that doesn't feel like a strangers and to a heartbeat that doesn't sound like his or hers or theirs and you can't, you can't, you can't just simply 'Go Home.'

If I hold this mug of tea tight enough, it mimics your touch and the feel of your warm skin against mine. When I press it to my lips and drink it deep I can remember me breathing in the kisses and lies you poured down my throat and I'll not sip gently I will gulp it all down in the hopes that it could somehow keep you in my mouth. But I hold onto this mug that is warm like you, and I hold on for too long and find it burns my skin and my throat and tongue. It blisters my fingers and boils my lips when I try to touch it, when I try to love it. Just like you did.

He is the foundations
On which I build my strength
He is the sunrise and sunset
Bringing a smile to my face,
Always,
He is the constant friend
The trusted one
My best friend, my anchor
My wings to keep my head
In the clouds where dreams lay
His kindness is more than I deserve
And more than I can ever repay
The beacon that guides me to light
When all I see is darkness
He is my sweetest friend,
The eye of my storm,
The strength of tranquillity,
He is all of this to me.
All of this and more

I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.

Maybe its me
Maybe it hasn't been everyone else
This entire time
Maybe I am just not enough
And that is why
The people I care so deeply for
Find others to wrap
In their arms at night
Maybe its me
Maybe thats why I have to find out
From strangers
I am simply
Not
Enough

I dont know what im holding on for anymore.
The stars that once were ablaze in my eyes have burnt out and left only ash and cinders as any memory of happiness.

And I'll cut my wrists
Straight down to the bone
And carve flowers
Into the body
You've wilted.

I like to think I know you
As I know my cobbled streets
Or my fingertips
But perhaps maybe I don't
I don't know what your favourite colour is
Or what songs you sing in the shower
I don't know what brought
You out of that raging storm
But I do know how you look
When basked in sunlight
And I know how you smile
When you've nothing to say
I know that you break sometimes
I know that you fix yourself too
I may not know all of you
Every crevice and nook,
But I do know you
And I know that I love you
And I know that for you,
That is enough.

I just spent an hour looking through all my dad's old things. In the chest that my mum keeps at the foot of her bed (she wants to keep him, or at least, the memory of him, close) in that chest, there is a little book, filled with messages to him from people I've never met nor heard of. From cover to cover there are messages of mourning, love, grief, all for a man taken from the world too soon. And its not fair that these strangers knew him and I didn't. And its not fair that now heaven has him and I don't.

I'm kind of hating you
And I'm kind of hating me
I'm hating all the stars
And everything beneath
A hatred to the soil
And a hatred to the sky
Hating all of these dreams
That went and passed me by.

There is a quiet thunder to the way she walks, and a heavy rainfall when she leaves. She treads water trying to reach islands that will house her but cannot reach the shore before her hurricane mind carries her away to new homes, homes she finds in people, and often the wrong people. But she is strong and stands like the tallest oak, letting gale force winds bend her branches so that she may feel what is to live, but never has she broken. Her voice is the sound of birds in the spring with all the melodies and lullabies of the early morning, she has a light in her that is both the sun and the fireflies and it will illuminate your heart should you ever let her in. Sometimes she is wilted but even beautiful roses have thorns and she draws blood if you try to pick her petals. She is the earth and the wind and the sky and though her roots are strong she is not always smiling, but just like a flower she grows from the ground up and all will gather to awe at her beauty when she sees it within herself.

With the changing winds
My friends are drifting from me
In all directions
And if I pursue one
I lose the rest
A great canyon has severed us
And we are all so very, very sad
But calling out for help
Only results in an echo
Shouting back
I know, I have tried
I cannot see nor hear them
And I doubt they are looking
For a speck of dust
Such as I,
So you see
I guess I'm just better
Alone.

I was simple and platonic
You were a hurricane of passion
All too eager to sweep me up
But I shied away from your storm
And recluded into quiet rain
While you blazed lightning
And screamed thunder from the sky
You tried to pull my hand
Lead me to the open plains
Where we could smile as wide as the moon
And throw cautions to the air currents
But the sun came up
And with the rays of sunlight
That bore through trees
I crept away from you and your thunder
For fear that you were simply
My midnight tempest
And as dawn arose you would sink.
But you stayed,
And my storms haven't been the same since.

I don't pray anymore
The angels stopped listening
A long, long time ago.

I am a part of the 90's generation. Born to the world in the midst of heartaches and solitude. We dwell in shadows to hide our eyes from the brutal sunlight and we shy away from the darkness that corrupts and destroys. Through the fog that clouds our judgement we see ourselves and collapse any reflective surface that shows the satin devils in our iris. We break mirrors and hearts along our way and indulge ourselves in life's only certainty:
Self hate rules all.

You are a blur to me
I cannot remember how many times we have kissed or how often you say my name but I remember the feel of those lips and the way you sound when they are speaking words only for me. I dont know how long I have spent in your arms but I know that hours are not long enough and I know that when you laugh at something I say my heart skips at least three beats. I know that your every movement is vivid and fluorescent to me. I dont know how many times you breathe in a minute but I know that your heart sounds like steady drum and it quickens when I tell you I love you.  And I do mon amour, I do.

Everything hurts.
My every syllable is a sin and I cannot confess to the kind stranger in the church because he has never had the devil wage war inside him, God has laid a path for him with roses and gold whilst I trekked through forests and marshes hacking and slashing at every demon that snarled and bared its teeth at me. I left with bleeding wounds from myself, or was it the beasts? it doesn't matter, we are one in the same now.
So you see, that nice priest in this holy house has nothing to say, with all his bread and wine, because my demons whisper louder than he screams, and God and all his angels lay silent and hidden as I succumbed to the devil's velvet tortures. I live in a hell of my own creation and no muse nor divinity can save me now.

Bukowski said what matters most
Is how well you walk through fire
But I've been wandering hell for months
And I dont think anyone has even noticed
Maybe it is I who doesnt matter
Maybe the burns are only skin deep

There is more than just oxygen
In every breath I exhale
There is every syllable I never spoke
Every word that danced along my tongue
But always stayed behind my teeth
In a breath, there is sorrow and
Every drop of joy my lungs could fathom
Spinning and twirling
In the back of my throat
Itching to be spoken, released
But unwilling to go
I linger there in a half breath
Just a second too long
The words die and the silence floods
In my oxygen I exhale my truths
My promises and remarks
Ghosts of sentences never worded
And I return to a mere breath
Pain sparking in my eyes.
I have never spoken a word.

She is far far away
In a place I cannot reach
My darling sister
Grown, and more beautiful
Than the turquoise seas
And the floral meadows.

On the other side of the world
Where times and seasons are different
Our conversations are choppy
Sometimes not speaking for weeks
Sometimes talking for hours

Blood of my blood
Keeper of secrets large and small
Most trusted friend
Dearest companion
Far away is she
Far from her little sister
Far, so far
From me.

He tells me that
My body is a map
And he wants to explore
He tells me I am a lost continent
That is more beautiful than
The rest of the world's wonders
But he doesn't see it all
Not the scars littering
My legs and sides
Or the uneven grotesque lines
On my thighs. They plague me.
He doesn't see all of me
And I wouldn't have it
Any other way.

Death is everywhere
It surrounds us like a cloak
And engulfs humanity more often
Than the darkness envelopes the moon
You can see it in the trees
Bare branched and broken
You can see it in the news
Another tragedy hitting the screens
You can see it in your own eyes
As you scratch at half healed scars
I don't know why people fear death,
After all, it seems to be the only thing
That makes sense in this world
From the moment we are born
We begin to die
And if that isn't poetic,
How could life ever be?

The thought of you two
Crying and fighting
Over a small town boy
Is enough to make my stomach
Tremble and my heart ache
I have told you countless times
That four years of friendship
Is a more solid foundation
Than a crumbling shack of a boy
You have both known less
Than a full moon cycle
Friendship is not about always
Doing what the other wishes
It is not about predicting
The outcome of your choices
It is about looking at each other
And being able to confess in truth
'You have flaws, and I still love you'
My head is pounding from the stress
Of worrying if you will ever stop
Fighting and clashing and hurting
My angels I love you dearly
Love one another as I do you
Let not one boy be the echoing shout
That moves mountains of your friendship
And destroys the hearts of you both.

There's nothing as strong
As the cravings I have for you,
Not so much in a way
In which I want to be skin to skin
But just to feel your presence
And know that I'm safe if you're here
I want your eyes looking at mine
Before we smile and laugh
Your hand in mine
Absent-mindedly tracing shapes
With your thumb, as always
I crave most of all
Your heart
Because you already have mine
I'll admit, there's no hunger
Quite like love.

I spent my entire life running from my shadow. I lived in fear of the light. Of happiness. The dark was even worse. I found no comfort in solitude and sought only things that would ultimately be my demise.

I am a beacon
For chaos and disorder.
Tempests and storms
Seem to gravitate towards me
And lost souls
Treading solemn paths
Always manage to find themselves
In my company
Ruin and carnage surround me,
Shattered parts of abandoned dreams
And the wreckage of sorrow
All head towards my light.
I do not want to be a beacon
I do not want to bring hurricanes
Into the lives of people I love
But this chaos, this waste,
Clings closer to me
Than my shadow.

I managed to get you out
Of my fickle little bloodstream
But you are, and always will be
Right there
Under
My
Skin

Things are good now,
Well, as good as it gets,
You know?
I mean so yeah the doctors
Want to put me on the miracle pill
Of antidepressants
As if it would stop the thoughts.
But I've got my drummer boy
And his golden smile
That reminds me of summer,
And spring, and winter, and love
I've got my girls
Their hearts and voices clearing away
Storm clouds and shadows
From places I cant reach,
Not by myself.
I've got my family, my anchors
But they're also my wings
Keeping me grounded
whilst letting me fly
So yeah. The voices haven't stopped
And the pain is still there
But its easing up
I'm smiling for real now
And it's good, you know?
It's good.

I've got thoughts so dark
I bet even the devil
Would weep

I am a half-built castle
made from weathered and broken stones
my foundations are not solid
and the rain pours so easily
through a roof not yet there
I am an unfinished project
abandoned before I could prove my worth
I am all the cracks and crevices
in this forgotten tower
I am alone and incomplete
and I would rather be nothing
than an almost-something

Does the sun know
What the moon saw
You, in your room
Does it know of how
The loneliness
Consumed your lungs
Does the sun know
That the depression whispers
Almost as loud
As the anxiety
**Screams.

The cold bites
And the wind hisses
The rain spits
And the sun dies
The kids mock
And the teachers gossip
The depression hits
And the anxiety twitches
But nothing
Is as cruel
As you

I just saw a shooting star
Crashing through space
All burning blaze and blinding light
Soaring through a universe
That has spat it out
Rejected and alone
It is discarded
Or maybe it grew tired
Of watching the Earth turn
And instead, fell,
Like an angel from grace
All holy and glorified
So that its remains
May make flowers grow
In the craters it leaves

Or perhaps
It is just
A star.

It's strange
And irrational
But I am so
terrified
Of falling in love
I think my family
Is cursed
I just found out
That my cousin's
Fiance, other half,
missing piece
Passed away
In a deep sleep
Into an even deeper one
And my mother
Lost her husband,
Love of her life,
her rock
To a reckless driver
On a road he didn't return from

I'm scared of falling in love
Not because of
The possible heartbreak
Or childish trivialities
But I'm so scared
That one day
Suddenly, out of the blue
In a blaze of cruelty
From whomever
Dictates our fate
They will just be
*gone

He's got eyes like the ocean and they're pulling me in like the tide, his voice makes my heart sound like the drums he plays and his hands engulf mine in a safeness I didn't know I could feel. But though he brings a light to my life the shadows still linger and whisper in my ear that some day soon he will see all the scarred parts that I hate about myself, and no love nor kindness will be enough to make him stay.