rainy days and getaways
I wish that I could've stayed
my heart is with you anyways

gloomy minds and darker times
like leaving you was such a crime
and now youre most of my life

shedding tears, bigger fears
of you never being here
because the future's hardly clear

faking smiles, wet floor tiles
thinking of our travelled miles
but our memories are neatly filed

wetter days and short getaways
wishing that we could have stayed
but my heart is with you anyways.

inhale.

cloudy brain
lifted thoughts
not quite out of the gray
but fingertips brushing white
treading water
in a safe distance from the ground
the wind
beneath my inhaled wings
slowly drifting
among the clouds in my
brain.

exhale.

I love the way
you make my brain float
a never ending trail of white
with fallen leave clouds
and rose petal air

I adore how you
fill we with warmth
tingles in my veins
with feathers to cushion me
and a smoke induced high

you comfort me
and remind me of life
what it's like to be happy
and vibrate with the magick of the night
carrying me up into the calm

I'm so grounded yet flying so high
I feel like touching clouds
but the earth is just under me
while I'm calm beyond compair
and my monsters are safely hidden

don't you love the way
you make me feel?
so high up above the darkness inside me
treading the fallen leave clouds,
and caressing the rose petal air.

I breathe in the darkness
and exhale the withdrawal
letting the emptiness sink in
before my thoughts turn to black

a tightness in my chest
vise grip on my heart
and voices in my head
telling me to just do it already

I'm suicidal.
nothing more than that.
my body craves bloodshed
and my neck craves a rope

soon Ill just be a hanging ornament
a melancholic decoration
to fuel the melody of tears
and soothe my own pain

suicide.
seven simple letters
that mean so much to a broken soul
that's only mend is death.

why
does it have to be
so
****
hard?
I miss it
I miss the fire in my veins
the adrenaline
I miss the feel of steel kisses
grazing my arm
and touching my veins
I miss the darkness, so romantic
begging me to give in
pleading with me,
"just one more"
I miss the thrill,
and the rush of feeling
something that isn't emptiness
for once.
I miss it.
but I can't return to my cold lover
because if they found out
they'd take me away from you
and then,
my soul would truly become black.
why is it so hard?

I'm screaming and waiting for someone to hear
But nobody listens, in this room full of people
Nobody cares, in this small, tiny world.
Most of all, Nobody wants to.
 
Looking at this dark storm is too much to bear
And I'm waiting for that crack of lightning 
Just to see if there's any such thing as light anymore
Because there's no air for any fire.
 
Searching for all these answers I can't reach
And I just don't know anything at all
Because I'm far too young to experience this
I mean, I'm only sixteen
 
I'm trying not to cry about how much I miss home
But I think back and remember the smiles
And how they're so far away now
Just pacing out of my reach
 
I don't even know how to word my feelings anymore
Just a scribble of jibberish on this keyboard
Waiting for the night to end so the torture can resume
Waiting for that final breath that'll never reach me
 
I'm just curled in this ball to find warmth
Because outside this dark room is much more black
The air is so thick with this sadness
I wish I could fall through and forget it all
 
I've lost control because I don't know what's real anymore
And these soft whispered words aren't reaching my mind
Any melody is far too fast for me to handle
This music haunts me to sleep.
 
Trying to restrain myself from this growing need
I've lost track of everything rational
Trying to return to the normal plane I'm supposed to be on
Nothing physical makes sense anymore.
 
I'm trying to leave my mind here, in this place
Something so familiar yet unrecognizable past this hurt
I can't stay here much longer before I fade away completely
I'm trying, I'm trying, just let me be.
 
I'm yearning for that comfortable feeling,
Like when it was warm and happy, no sadness or scars
Because this house isn't a home at all
And I think I'm going insane.

I'm calling and nobody seems to hear
nobody listens, in this room full of people
Nobody cares, in this small world.
and most of all, nobody ever wants to.

I died not so long ago
not with a blade, or a gun
I died from feeling.
Or rather, so much of it.
 
Maybe it's just a mental shut down.
Or a simple break away from all of this
because I feel so numb inside,
And everything looks bleak.
 
I died. And now all that's left is hollow eyes
I can feel a heart, beating through my chest
Such a small symbol.
it's the only thing that reminds me Im still technically living.
 
I wonder if there's a word for this
because depression.. Just doesn't fit.
Its not mortal death, my blood would disprove any theory.
It's.. The lack of a soul. Emotion.
 
Not saying I'm completely soulless, No.
But I'm overly far gone.
Most definitely withered away,
And I don't think I'll come back this time.
 
I don't feel human at all
Because humans, they can actually feel.
I died not too long ago,
And now I'm just a shell.

sitting here
staring at these boring beige walls
with someone staring back at me
as I try to put my thoughts into words
don't sound stupid
no desperation
no neediness
no attention
being analyzed is an interesting thing
because you can feel the ****
of knowledgable eyes in your brain
so your walls go up
stop staring at me
because help doesn't exist
when you don't want it
and there is no cure
for the monsters in my brain
tearing
ripping
clawing at my psyche
whispering
sweet nothings into my subconscious
bland, practiced words stream out of my mouth
bubbling over with the dull tone of indifference
boredom
and ultimately,
cringe-worthy sadness.
if only you could actually understand
that the monsters are my friends
their darkness inspires me
reminds me of the heaven
found six feet below my own heels
now I'm standing,
with a rehearsed smile on my mask
and a hollow 'thank you'
before I return to the beige walls

I want to be gone

I want to be six feet under

I want a bullet through my head

and pills in my blood

I want slashed wrists 

streaking the tile

and a chair tipped over

so I can hang like a decoration

I want suicide

and suicide wants me.

I feel like a zombie

Dead and gone

Too far out to even try to bring back

As if anyone would try, anyways.


I feel like nobody cares anymore

They don’t care if I’m here or out there

If I’m here or gone

If they don’t care, then why should I?


I want to be gone.

Gone seems so peaceful

Quiet

Nice.


Death is beautiful to me.
I’ve thought about it in a romantic way since I was seven years old.
But hey, I’m just a ******.

I’m just a statistic.

That’s what everyone tells me

Nothing more than a name on a screen,

Or a number on a board.


Nothing.

More.
Ever.
I feel worthless.


Maybe I should help myself escape into that mysterious abyss

Noose, blades, pills galore.

It’s romantic.

Then ill really be a zombie.