it starts out
so innocently

a nagging thought in the back of your mind
a stray Post-It Note in the files of your memory

it flutters
caught in the breeze
of a wandering mind

another flutters
and then it rips free

you grab them
not knowing
their poison

fatuglystupidfatclingyhatefulfatselfishfatdirtytoxicfatf­atfat

you ****** them away
but they've already stuck
their glue coating your dendrites

you ignore them
the best you can

but their bright colours
and sharp words
flutter so very loudly
grabbing you the way
black-and-white normalcy cannot

months later
you sit at your desk
writing and smiling
and eating and giggling

when suddenly

you hear their flutter
and see that they have woven
into a gorgeous ribbon
of self-hate and pain

it wraps around your throat
freezing the words at the tip of your tongue

coaxing the food from your stomach
the breath from your lungs

and soon
the blood from your veins

you curl into a ball
and cover your ears
but there is no escaping

the ribbons are now ropes
tied tightly around your veins
around your throat
a noose
awaiting your next careless step

finally
you step off the edge of a loving home
or
trace your veins with a razor
or
find solace in a bullet

*suicidalworthlesscrazysuicidalsuicidalsuicidal

scarred skin
beckons so sweetly
razors gleam
and sing a siren's song

liquid fire
smells so sweet
bottles clink
and promise a forgetful haze

cabinets so full
cookies freshly baked
wrappers lure
and promise to fill the void

i close my eyes

grab my journal
leather so soft in my hands

and write

I Am Not Sad
I Am Not Alone
I Am Being Irrational

i cry for hours
because it feels like a lie

living in a recovering body
when my pain
aches for an escape
or a band-aid
however temporary

my tears could fill
the Atlantic

relax, this is the future;
this subtle bludgeon,
this assault in tenderness
where we choose our own execution

relax, this is absolution;
this aloof intimacy,
this touching by proxy
where we cleanse our original sin

relax, this is heaven;
this calm tempest,
this dancing static
where we live through television

relax, this is experience;
this blind vision,
this attraction by opposites
where we dissolve ourselves in another

relax, this is understanding;
this shy exhibition,
this knowledge through innocence
where we swallow defeat

where i am a warrior,
and you are a priest

sometimes...
chaos forces us to examine the ghosts
we thought we had banished to the coldness of a casket,

buried deep within cranial cemeteries,
one last time before they disintegrated
into the obscurities of our souls.

souls which have embarked on the journey
of infinite slumber.

it was no coincidence that the date of their departure,
aligned with the evening on which the

last living butterfly was impaled upon a piece of cardboard.

no longer a free being,
but a newly framed monument to a time
where the dead did not dance with the living.

Living a life from moment to moment
Devoid of feeling and shame. A person is fervent
Full of passion and craze,
That life holds no meaning and phase.
In stochastic rhythm, embedded in wit,
One finds a serious hymn, that life has bit
In illogical fit, from the **** of reason and fate.

Fate where man loses his name,
To a more sinister and manipulative beast,
That seeks to tame his composure;
And quell him with an abundance of exposure
So the soul of the next can feast.
It is not radiation or something of ill will,
But a being more accepting, that eats the source of thrill.
For what is the beast, but the evolution of progression
The child of reason and though. That brings evolution
To the forethought of man with intent to pursue in full
The need to place ban on the will of human
So that the transition can be quelling and soothe.