Stop ******* crying you *******, why are you so ******* dependent?  Of course he's ignoring you, it's because you're such a huge burden on his life.  Everything is a problem and you can't just be content for five ******* seconds.  Consider it a miracle that you've lasted this long together.  Maybe if you had some friends to distract you, you'd feel better.   Too bad you don't have any, because you're a burden to them too.  All you are is a sack of attention-seeking self-pitying *******.  It's pathetic how weak you are, you can't even pretend to be a normal person?  What the **** is wrong with you?  Are you trying to be a disappointment?  It's working.  You make your mom cry.  Your dad only brags about your brother.  Your relatives find you awkward and uncomfortable.  God, why are you such a ******?

I am not depressed.
I can smile and laugh with my friends,
and enjoy sensations.
I can still love,
and find solace in other's company.

But there will always be
a part of me,
that is broken and unfixable.
An intoxicating sadness deep within,
that I let control me because it's so sweet.
Then the understanding of my loneliness comes,
and the tears fall
as I fall asleep.
And I crave for something that doesn't exist.

I am not depressed.
I've just been sad for awhile.
But I can still find the light.
I can still smile.

But how ironic is it,
that the people who ingest the most cough syrup,
are the sickest of them all?

Death is freedom
and im all out of cash

was drunk off insanity
i had no intentions to remedy

I dropped my purse
while searching for a lighter.
Bandaids, two packs of Newports, tissues, and a mirror
cascaded to the ground.

In a sea of people,
nobody offered
help

his
pulsing, teeming, dreaming
is
breathing meaning
into



me

delicate
lovely
romantically depressed
poetically broken

not at all.
just a sick
naïve
little girl
with an unloaded gun
and a wrist full of scars

Stupid boy.
Are you truly conceited enough
to believe that just because you
touched me,
you know who I am?
You are nothing more than
a toy.
I have galaxies growing
inside me,
that you will never even scrape
the surface of.

I need you to read the braille
of my body
and tell me
what it means to you.

Because the story
I'm trying to write
is just coming out
as perfect
straight
lines,
and how can there be a purpose to that?

Open

the door
my legs
my heart

but do not forget
to close
on the way out

The loneliness is concrete,
for a sidewalk that reaches mars.

Every time we walk it,
we should be using cars.

I dove into
a sea of pillows
begging to drown.

But then I felt
the warmth
of where you had
once lain.

So I smothered myself
to suffocate
instead.

Gravity brings me closer to you
and with each breath of passion,
my mind would drift
to my real desires.

I do not love you,
I do not love.
But in these moments
I am bliss.

We are not making love,
we are simply surrendering our bodies
to pleasure.

So many thoughts
I cannot fathom
to turn a simple inkling
of an idea
into a painting of passion.

With so much being drawn
in my canvas
I cannot help
but scrap
everything I know

The adoration I have for you
is incomparable to
the most pleasurable of feelings.

It is expected that I should be
ecstatic,
but I only know of fear.

You are the single person
who knows how to
cleanse my pain.

So when eventually you leave me,
I will lose the love
of two people.

Warmth of the season
travels through my bloodstream and
reminds me there is meaning
to the life that I'm leaving

You grow
as a **** around my heart.
Intertwining
          with my veins
                    and
                          invading my thoughts.
As a parasite
you latch onto me
           and **** away
                    at everything
                          I once was.

bonnie and clyde since we committed our first felon
our intimacy was just supposed to be my teenage rebellion

you were a schemer
with a wicked demeanor
i was a dreamer
with a heart full of fever

i said i was bonnie and you said you were clyde
but how sad to realize i made it up in my mind

I am NOT a choice.
So do not dare come to me
with your lighthearted laughs
and crinkly eyes
and goofy grin.

I am NOT an object.
So do not dare call me
and ask if I want to hang out
to watch a movie
we have both seen before.

I am NOT yours.
So do not think you can spurn me
and then I will fall into your arms
whenever you get a feeling
below your belly.

I am ME.
So do know that I am
independent
irreplaceable
incomparable.

But how serendipitous
to find your kiss,
wrapped around my fingertips.

I wear it openly
for all to see,
not wanting any mystery.

He revolted at the sight of me,
gagged at the bitter thought of me.
How could a love so pure,
spoil to such a sickly sour?
I refused to live in a world of his hatred,
so I paved our paths to hell
and let our souls digest an intoxicating aroma.
As we took our final breaths,
I looked into eyes that reflected nothing but
loathing.
I snickered,
and even had the audacity
to flash him
the most wicked
of grins.

His eyes are revolting,
colorless and dull.
Yet there’s something that makes them
unequivocally nauseating.
When I look through these windows,
I see that lust and greed have joined hands
with revenge and apathy
to form a being capable of no earnest good.
The most horrifying trait of his eyes,
is not the color,
nor the size,
nor the dilation,
but
how ******* reflective they are.

One day

you’ll think of me.

A song

or

a sunset

will make you

remember

the way I made you feel,

and your heart will set on fire.

The same way

my body did

every time

we kissed.

When I hear him talk to her,
I crave for a cigarette in between my lips.
When I see them walking together,
I crave to drown in a bottle of whiskey.
When I feel her presence,
I crave for the cool metal of a loaded gun.

But how strange that
I’ve never smoked a cigarette,
or drank whiskey,
or pulled a trigger.

But the urges
are one of an addict.
And at this moment
I’m not really sure if I’m me anymore,
Because I’ve become addicted to things that I’ve
never even done before.

I know I’m not an addict,
there is no way I could be an addict,
But ******* I could use a cigarette right now.

I notice that your lips move
when you lie to me.
I know about the secrets
you kept and denied, despite of me,
I wish you would have stayed
around and fought for me.
I know I hope too much
about things that aren't going to happen for me.
I know we need to go
our separate ways, because you can't be with me.
I want you to see
the potential of what we could be if you belong to me.
I know for a fact that you
haven't treated anyone worse than you treated me.


I've come to the conclusion
that you're a bad person,

but bad people have soul mates too.

At the time,
I thought that pain was permanent.
But I’m glad to tell you,
the slap of your betrayal
has not
even left
a
mark.

I’m miserable.
My lack of talent
are the chains in which I am restrained by.
Oh how I wish I could convey my thoughts,
in prose,
by the use of simple poetry.
But my phrases are jagged,
motifs inarticulate,
ideas jumbled.
How can I understand myself,
when my fingers don’t understand my mind?