twigs dangling from their medium.
bodies tearing,
aortas stretching.
smoke doin' the tango with the esophagus.
salination forming in the crusts of receptors.

i have no concept of time
other than it soars.
i am a bald eagle,
soarin' high till i am shot down,
left on the ground.

love don't live here.
embrace me till the sun rises.
i wanna stay down
'cuz it feels alright.

i am at the bottom.
and I kinda like it
struggle for me.

aching
with undue envy,
i smile.
and every muscle that is forced out of place
takes its anger out on my frowns.
standing over my bed,
i lie.
i deceive.
i offer no explanation,
and my teeth chatter
from the coldness of others.
but,
it's okay.
'cause i'm ostensibly happy.

i burned myself today
and to say i didn't enjoy my skin sweltering
would be a lie.

it begins to sting.

and i know the ****** is waiting to occur.
watching it char like a dandelion in a bed of roses.
god the intrigue.

it begins to boil.

hot like the unrepentant geraldines
tori amos composes music to.
but alas solace comes when the skin is ripped open.

i partition the awe
and while my skin cells may die,
my soul remains intact
for

now.

fingertips against
a glass pane, smothered.
paint drips from the ceiling,
peeling back its exoskeleton.
it's bare, rooted in rotting wood.
let me in.
i could do it forever.
one ounce of indiscretion is tortuous,
but it is my remedy. guitar strings are strummed
in the closet and the drums
were not ready for their awakening.

my bones tremble at the meeting of hate and stones.
it waves unilaterally for a truce between
the marrow and the muscle
to no avail.

hit her with the knife;
mouth caved in.
dressed without purpose
feeling sorrow within.

dancing on the chimney;
smoke packed down.
bullets in the moonlight
cries broken down.

the conveyer belt spins;
jumps into the ocean.
skies plunge deep
without their kin.

o' how i miss you.

isolation is a wonder
aggressively pacifying
the unspoken.

what warmth
when you realize you are
slowly self-destructing.

there is some divinity
beneath the soul;
scorched.
numbers floating
around the pendulum.

crack into smaller pieces
and hydrate.

numquam ama nimis!

i like you.
all of you.
can i **** my time with you?

wheels are independent of themselves
they roll as if they were children at a playground
the concept of regret doesn't trigger visceral pain
and doesn't eat them from the inside and out
and their pale expression as they touch the concrete
resonates so softly with their exterior,
and they give no *****.
and i wish i were a wheel
i get no breaks with physicality
but at least i know i won't wake up sobbing in the middle of the night
wheels are my esoteric dream
and that's okay with me

i can hear the bomb ticking.
it’s a nursery rhyme that I want
to put me to sleep forever. to stare,
patiently, as it preys (prays)
on (over) the weak and forgiving;
i want to it to detonate.

what is a mirror
when your eyes are repulsed
by your own reflection?
tiring mental games haunt me daily.
I'm afraid to develop thoughts -
they dig deep trying to penetrate my skull.
they want to swim down into my nerves.
they want to see me hurt
again.
A mismatched pattern of self-hate and envy,
loathing-stained skin.
my hair follicles have the sensual smell of the depression
I thought I overcame last week.
I'm drenched in my own mental hibernation,
and waking up means I might not make it to the next day.
so I sleep.
i sleep hard.
i shower myself with mental gifts and compliments
because i have some hope that I
can win this
battle.

I would liken you to a stab wound,
the way you've caused me so much pain -
but I must admit I provided the knife.

i am the carrier
falling into the margins of the paper.
dry in the sand with infallibility
and crust like the corner of my mother's eye.
i am cracking in quarters wrapped in Cupid's inverted
arrow.
i feel unloved.
and i am in here in the lonely hour;



i really wish i weren't alone tonight.

our bodies are melting jellyfish,
stinging beneath the ocean's surface
for a chance at reincarnation.

i beg the shadow to lift the darkness from the corner
but it gazes at me with such condescension.
it then begins to fantasize about my dreams.
it can remember things i can't
and it can haunt me from a distance -
watching, lurking,
breathing.
but i am the dull flame
that will extinguish its desire.

adulthood will surface
and as I awkwardly ***** my childhood,
i fear independence.

endlessly searching
for my imaginary other half.

far from the origin, there is a gap that widens
to the tears of every adolescent that has thought
of committing suicide.
and around the corner, the lemon sheds,
souring the moods and the smiles of everyone
who didn't think about harming themselves today.
and there i am, in the shadow of my new self,
coping with the lack of self-loathing -
relearning how to feel something other than hate.
now,
that gap ceases to exist.
depression weeps at all of the giggles
every survivor smiles.
the moon shines bright,
reflecting the pearly whites that are now visible.
the skin has healed. and so has the heart -
but the mind goes through constant withdrawals,
cycling and cycling
till the process is repeated.
but we unite, strong as one,
breathing the same breath -
dreading the next breath.

twinkle twinkle little star.
the girl floats with such grace across her bedroom floor.
she is a fairy, or maybe she's a bird.
dancing with leisure, the faults in her eyes stand strong.
how i wonder what you are!
she doesn't understand why her passion
doesn't make her happy anymore.
she ties her hair in a bun,
gliding from her comfort zone only to meet disapproval.
up above the world so high.
and the only way she thinks she can feel is to get high,
so high where there's no oxygen
and the atmosphere knocks her out cold -
so she doesn't have to feel
lonely.
like a diamond in the sky.
there are no diamonds in the sky.
only tears of despair and desperation and
grief.
twinkle twinkle little star.
her arm hangs above her head.
and the numbness dulls the pain of the cuts,
scattered across her appendage.
how i wonder what you are.*
"i am a fairy" she says - head half-cocked,
happiness fully gone.

i've manufactured a new identity.
i tried to love myself this one time,
and the ghost of my new self possessed me
with all of those insults.
i'm a new person now.
and all i ever asked for was to be happy.

//oops

i placed my stress in a blender
to make it easier to swallow,
but all i do is wallow in regret.

it hurts to breath when
no one can see you doing so,
but i won't lay down my arms.

i work desperately for innate satisfaction,
but my utter need for validation
makes my effort drown in vain.

but once again, i live at the bottom of the chain,
yearning for a hand to pull me up,
but pity is easier to swallow than pride.

i pay my fare with loneliness.
my journey always ends the same.
contemplation.
it won't stop till
a halo shimmers around my skull.

maybe if I understood
that this loneliness is forever,
I wouldn't be burdened by
the sadness.

disproportionality.
the heart does not match the mind.
minding.
mindful.
mindless.
i've gone mad trying to feel
what i am supposed to feel.
feelings.
feeling.
fearless.

At night,
I touch myself.
(No, not like that.)
I touch myself all over
to know that I am still there.
It's strange.
My mind takes me elsewhere,
yet my body is still here.

change brings the most frightening
transitions of my life.
change means that one day,
I might learn to love myself.

I'll save that for another lifetime.

she broke it off
because he couldn't
h
  a
     n
        g.

cradle me tenderly
because this broken heart won't mend
itself.

there's nothing more pleasing
than looking at yourself in the mirror
and not crying because of what you see .