Why am I tired?
Hmmm let me think.

You say maybe low blood sugar,
I'd say that's off the list.

Could it possibly be
From not sleeping for days
Due to worrying
Over silly things?

Or maybe,
It's the sadness that overwhelms me
Every day and every night

Perhaps,
It is from working too hard.
To keep everyone happy,
My grades up,
My smiles big.

So why am I tired?
Hmmm let me think.
I'd say it's probably
Not
From low blood sugar.

Am I the only one that has their demons feasting upon their souls?
They say it is easy to tie a noose around your mind,
To overcome the urges and temptations of ending your life with a suicide
They don't know the true pain and torment that is going on in my head
An epic battle that leaves me with restless nights in bed
"End your life already" they say, as they prey on me during my weakest hours
Sometimes I give into the voices, carrying the sharp blade to my wrist
Crying as I struggle to mutter three powerful words that keeps me going
Choking on my sobs, my lungs deflate with a desire to say that God loves me
I try to convince myself that God is trying to test my faith
And to just wait, wait and wait
Then my Demons will eventually go AWAY.....



~Imperfect Desire **

Before I met you,
My world was black and white.

When we met,
You showed me the in between,
The gray of life.

When we became friends,
You showed me that there is even more.
There are oranges, red, and greens.

Peace, happiness, and life

When I left,
You taught me more,
Although you were gone.

You taught me of
Blues, yellows, and purples.
Darker, colder colors

Sadness, bitterness, and anxiety

You taught me so much
About the colors of this world

You were hard as nails,
so cynical.
Love doesn't exist,
it's just a social construct,
you would spit with venom
then flash a coy smile.
It's an abstract concept,
you hissed as you twisted
the end of your hair
round your finger and you thought it twisted all the boys too,
to wonder how someone so cold
could look so sweet.
Like the apple in the orchard of Eden
crushed between the jaws of Eve.
It gave you a kick to think that your rare kiss turned them to smoulders
while you sat there like frost on the cusp of a Monday morning.
Never feeling anything,
you were untouchable.
Young puppy dog eyes meant nothing.
It gave you power to know you wouldn't be held down by them.
You never wanted to be.

And even after you first kissed him, touched him,
a thought was not spared on him.
Until then you looked into his eyes
and realised he was an angel
in disguise.
All at once you noticed where his wings touched the crook of his neck
and how the glow of his halo eclipsed the sun.
Eclipsed your whole world.
It was all you could see and they told you to stare at it would damage you,
but oh you couldn't look away.
Not for a second.
And you fell for him,
Like falling from heaven.

But he caught you on your way down.
Because it wasn't like they said,
it wasn't all heart break and lies,
another girl, like those other guys.
It wasn't all blackmail and force
with no love, no remorse.
It was feather soft
and tender.
Small kisses peppered on cheeks
lips and noses
all over.
It was fast, it was quick
with so much feeling it almost hurt.
But he made the masochism you preach.
With you,
he made heavenly sin,
on his knees he worshipped you
like the ancient gods,
he had never believed in.
But he had faith in you
and he gave you wings
like seraphim.
Like him.
He made you fly.

Oh and now you love him
like nothing else,
more even
than you love yourself.

all of my journals
are graveyards
of half-written things
and half-lived experiences
with half-hearted repentance,
because i can't even commit
to being noncommital.

still,
flipping through them offers
a full representation
of the half-alive girl
who wrote them.

It's thrilling and it's terrible,
it's wondrous while unbearable:
the piquing mind which seeks to find
the riddle in the parable.
Just when you think you've caught a glimpse,
your eyes will make a trick of it.
Elusive and seducing up until you have to blink again.

Seeking out solutions
to all of the wrong problems.
Powerless to the hourless,
oh, how could you hope to solve them?
Traverse the universe
like it is yours
for the unwrapping--
the only thing
of anything
to ever free its trappings.

A specious speculation
to a quiet congregation,
got you searching your thought corridors--
all you see is already yours.
If you're thinking life post-mortem
could be anything but boredom:
Try to think again.
Create your own Eden.

When what is real is relative,
and yours is unlike mine,
could you say how well I live?
Your virtue is my crime.
Traverse the universe
like it is yours
for the unwrapping--
the only thing
of anything
to ever free its trappings.

Faulty filter,
fully-functional.
He waits for her
(poised and punctual):
Ascent-dependent;
she drowns on air,
aloof, alert
she hides in hair.
Her lines, off-putting
hollow hymns
of mind onfoot with
phantom limbs.
She garners courage
on the stairs,
and peeks upon
his lone affairs.

His untapped rhythm
beats persistent,
caged by ribs, but
closing distance.
It gives a pacing
to her thoughts
in lilting measures:
all or naught.
His feet can feel her
on the stairs.
"Only enter,
he who dares."

Waiting for her
near her door,
the floor won't meet her heels.
His fate, yet to be sealed.