"I think I'm done drinking and smoking."
He says to the near empty room
the lights all off and the blinds down.
suicide is easy if you have enough time on your hands
being the devil's plaything isn't all that bad
The left side of his index finger
the right side of his thumb
stained yellow by oral fixation he never quite shook
More of a skeleton than a person
with hands that don't stop shaking
until the liquid sterilizes his soul
"Yeah man,"
...
...
"I think I'm done with all that ****."
he says between **** rips
"Hey,
if you're going to the kitchen,
could you grab me a beer?"

you are beautiful,
but in the way that scares me-
like the end of a cigarette.
beautiful ashes that disperse in the wind
but warm to the touch
and causes scars when pressed against skin.
it's eerie to think
that the smoke surrounding you
and getting between your clothes and tangled mess of hair and face
is slowly rotting you on the inside,
eventually killing you.

(do you see what you're doing to me, scarlet?)

you are stunning,
like the moon on a stormy night.
you stand out amongst the dark clouds and lightning strikes
but do nothing to stop the thunderous booms
and heavy rain pelting down upon me.
you simply watch; serene and illuminated,
you watch
me
suffer.

but you are dark
not the mysterious darkness of a newly discovered cave
or dingy attic begging to be explored,
but a darkness that has become familiar to me
the gloominess of a soul
the dimming of a heart-
you've put out every light of hope and belief
I've ever known
and you've ignited the fire that holds no luminescence,
only the ability to burn and smoke
the fire of pain; your fire.

and it is (you are) corroding me.

I*                         I                I                   I                 I     I                                I         I      I           I            I           I    I              I            I                       I                      I                             I            I       I         I            I         I              I         I       I             I      I                    I                                            I           I
                I            I                   I            I               I              I                        I   I             I            I           I                      I                I             I                 I                     I
I                         I                   I          I              I                I       I             I   I        I
                        I                                              I                                                                                     I
  U                                      U           ­                                                 U

I fall, infinitely
bursting onto the ground,
into splashes of **U

.

She came into this world
By accident.
Never planned,
But her parents
Didn’t regret a thing.

She grew up with
Her hands stretched out,
Hungry for knowledge
And taking in
Everything she
Could reach.

She was only 9 years old,
When she saw both her parents
Screaming at each other.
She didn’t understand,
“Why are mummy and
Daddy fighting?”
She asked as tears
Started to fall from
Her eyes to her
Delicate skin.
Her parents sighed as
They knew it wasn’t
Working out.
Things were crashing down.

She was only 10 years old
When her daddy left her.
As he carried his bags
Out the door,
She cried,
“Where are you going, daddy?”
He left, without a word.

She grew up,
Without love.
She grew up,
Believing  that
Love is the problem.

She never trusted love.
She never wanted love.
She never needed love.

She was only 13
When she took
Her first puff
Of cigarette.
She was hoping
That her misery
Would fade away,
Just like the smoke.

She was only 15
When she was suicidal.
Nobody knew about
Her struggles.
Nobody knew
She cried herself
To sleep, wishing everything
Was different and simple.
Her wrist was like
Her own canvas,
Covered with scars,
New and old.

She was drowning,
In her miseries.
All she wanted
Was someone to save her,
Or least teach her
How to swim,
But no one did.

She was drowning,
As she watched
People around her
Minding their own lives.

Till this day,
She’s still
Drowning,
Still
Struggling.

And no one
Cares enough
To save her.

It took her
17 years to
realize that
monsters don’t
live under her bed,
but instead
within her.

It took over
Her mind.
It took over
Her body.
It was destroying her.

The pain of getting out
Of bed each and everyday
Was pushing intolerable.
It felt like she was
Shackled to the bedpost.

She felt heavy,
As if boulders were
Toppling over her.

They were the voices
In her head.
She fought the urge
To take the blade,
But eventually gave in.

She was screaming for help,
But her desperate screams were
Muffled and masked by
A forced smile and an ‘im fine’.
She was struggling to keep
Her head above the water,
But everyone was blind.

She fought the monsters,
Fought and fought,
And

Gave up.

Not even in the darkness
can there be shadow
Not even in the light
can you hide
from the things that seek you
keep you through the day
holding to your skin
well into the night