i have bruises where you bit me
and scars from where i cut
your words were so deceiving
but now i'm out of luck



-k.l.

I'm tearing apart
And I don't know
What to do
Because when you
Speak more of sorrow
Than of love my heart
Stretches And aches
I fall apart again
At each moment
Thinking of your sadness
Missing the rise from the love
All I know now
Is how much I love you.

Each turn of my life
is a play for thrills
remnant of the games
we'd throw our dice:
a couple of chance,
hoping for the jackpot
but settling for change,
living for the spin,
'till it's our role again;
a crap shoot fallen,
two die alone.

my soul has
grown tired
and functioning
has become hard
I'm like a broken
machine
i can function
but i can't do it
right
its broken
the memories of you and i
and when the memories broke
the machine did
now if you didn't understand,
the machine is a metaphor,
and that metaphor,
is me.
i am
the machine.
i am
the metaphor.




m.g.

You're a starlight I caught myself gazing at,
I can paint you with colors of the night.
Looking out the window
You're that star in the sky
That shines the brightest.
So elegant, I can see your slight twinkle
Like you're doing your own dance.
I can almost see it now,
How when I see you,
My self, deep inside
All I want to do
Is join you in that dance.
Behind these walls I'll stay
And fall into this trance .
I'll gaze at you and weep
My soul is trapped,
No wings of freedom
No joy to make me leap.
With every passing moment
I paint you with the colors of the night.
I know every star that adorns the sky
Every diamond that dots the nightscape.
But in this cage I'll sit and watch
You're the one star I wish upon,
Every night.

anguished, anemic, adolescents, arrayed, in a line.
apprehensively, observing the ambulance, take away
an afficiando, again, today.

bereft of energy and ability
to see......
that cutting,
while a momentary thrill.
is leaching their ability,
to be anything
but lethargic, listless and ill.

an addiction to, endorphines
angst and red blood spill.
becomes a viscous, viscious
cycle,
that daily, causes a spiral downward.

you cut, to feel,
release from pain,
blood flows,
draining you of
the nutrients and
sustenance you need,
to cope with living life,
you become,
less able to deal,
with the slights and arrows
and daily dross.
so you cut,
to deal with the loss
of the ability to cope,
you saw away,
at your skin like,
it is a mental rope.
all the whil
you lose blood the live giving force,
you lose the ability to hope
spiraling, until....
you collaspe in class... your secret revealed...

A is for  ANGER...
bright fiery red,
at the abtruse,
asininity of it all.