The only part of my day
That I look forward to
Is when I go to bed
And lay there making up scenarios
In my head.

I think of comebacks
To 8th grade bullies.
I think of witty retorts
To my mother's snide comments.
I think of intelligent things to add
To conversations I had months ago.

I think of all the things
I was too scared to say.

And in my mind
I say them.
And pretend how things would be different
If only I had the courage to speak.

I went out looking for a drink
And a strange bed
To lose myself esteem
And rage
While commiting carnal sins
Between the legs
Of a pretty face
Painted over an empty skull
I went out searching
For the beast inside my marrow
Walking among the late night
Demons of decadence
Dancing to poisonous
Acts pretending to be love
But only wanting the salt
And skin of lust
I went out seeking to ******
My hearts truth and blood
To drown it within its own depth
Suffocate it on its own breath
To grind it down to nothing
But shame and guilt
And leave nothing but the stained
Bones of my hips exposed
I was drunk by noon
And couldn't pronunce her name
Or remember her face
I couldn't see her skull
But I could feel her tounge
Wrapped tightly between my legs
Her venom stiffening my flesh
Her throat coaxing the life
Out of my bones
And ******* the death
From my soul
I couldn't tell if
I was moaning
Or weeping
And she wasn't grinding the hours
In an effort to comfort or care
And she was more monster
Than human
Angel soft silk
Hiding devilish scents
And I gave myself to her roots
And her pain and her flower
And her evil
And her pleasure
Wanting to have my
Memory devoured
Trying to forget
Why I wanted
A drink
Poured by a pretty face
Into an empty skull
Full of poison
Mixed with murderous intent
To be forced
Down the throat
Of the dreams
Of my truth
To **** my blood
And my hope
But my heart
Would not
Drink
Would not let
This lie of poison flow
It pulsed against my rage
And my doubts
It beat madly
Wildly
For the fire
And flame
For the stars
Found in heaven
That sing
Only your name

There are a lot of things I can never put into words, phrases, sentences, analogies, a concluding statement things like the feeling of falling apart when you just can't close your eyes at night or the impetuous carvings of your name into my heart when there was no more room for you in my head. I search on the internet a synonym for angry I get cross, vexed, indignant, irked, galled; when there are things I cannot put into words like when I feel this ditch, cavity, trench big enough to fit in all my sorrow at the bottom, extremity, underpinning, base of my stomach which flips with every bus ride home. Home. Property. Abode. Domicile. A place I never really had or knew how to get to because I always got distant— Location. I close, shut, get rid off the tab on my computer and I close, shut, the laptop screen. There are no words to describe this feeling. The feeling of messy closets and not sleeping for three nights and finding meaning out of a life that had no value to me. So I wonder if things will ever change. If my hair will get shinier, if my worries fade away and I still ask myself if I will ever stop asking myself to do things I can't do. Do. Execute. Achieve, I have achieved nothing but let parts of myself descend deeper and deeper into a Tiffany and Co.'s box filled with dust that never catch the light and a Marc Jacob's bag of dimes that just weigh it down. A glass hammer, an inflatable dartboard. A helicopter eject seat, always throwing myself into situations— I can't fix with the same bare hands I've used to beat myself up. And still I try to make sense of the nothingness I am typing. Yet, I still take the train to school. I take showers. I listen to music on long walks. I try. Everyday, I try.