The imp on my back
Tells me that I am not loved
That I am merely a place holder
The imp on my back
cannot see me cry
but he can feel me shake
So he knows he's won.
I lost my faith when I taught myself how to bleed
and I’ve been carrying my burdens behind my teeth, a dog who’s bark is booming and who’s bite is jagged
When I meet god I hope it’s a fair fight
Because as far as I’m concerned he’s no match for me
no weapons, no tricks
just the hands that helped me crawl when i felt I couldn’t stand the pain
just unbridled anger at being denied happiness even as a child
just wounds that have been ripped open even after I’ve stitched myself together again
i’ll show no remorse, the same way he didn’t
I don’t want an apology, that would mean nothing to me
I want him to look up at me when he’s on his knees
and feel humbled and human at the pain he’s let me endure
I'm sorry boss, I can't come in today.
No no, I'm not sick. At least not in the way you think. No you see, I've gone too far again and made a mess of myself.
I don't want the customers to peer at my arms and see strands of skin hanging like ribbons from my wrist.
I don't want them to have to hear me mourning.
I'm sure it'll scare them off to hear an adult cry like a small child.
No, I'm sure that I can't stomach this pain any longer.
You see, I've taken more than the suggested amount of pills.
This call won't run much longer.
Boss, I don't think I'll be coming in tomorrow either.
I simply must rest.
i asked why you had me
because i wanted the truth
i didn't want a romantic story, a heartwarming tale of a dream you had where you knew i was coming
or a revelation that you needed a child
i wanted an apology
i wanted to know why you let me suffer
why you created me only to break me
why you used me until i was a shell, a puppet
why you left when you realized what you'd done,
why you never came back to repair the damages
Your heart is big. It's too much for some people. Learn to guard it from the people who wrap their hands around your neck whose kisses taste like blood.
Your sadness is overwhelming. You have to teach yourself not to drown the people you love. Eventually they'll learn to swim, and it won't be towards you.
Loneliness lives within you. Fight it without destroying yourself in the process.
Love is addicting. Love exists. Love is toxic. Love hurts. Good luck.
it's much easier to let you see what's under my clothes
than to let you know what makes me smile
letting you physically enter me is so much safer
than allowing you to probe my innermost fears
hearing you tell me that I feel good
is lighter on my heart than hearing you say you love me
*** is the closest I will permit you to get,
my vulnerability when I'm naked is easier to defend than you getting to know me
All my childhood I was told to be quiet
I modeled myself so that I became the background noise, a silhouette in the corner, someone's shadow
When I became an adult, that role was so far ingrained into me that it became my personality
I am the one who stays home when everyone else has gone to the party, I am the one who holds everyone's coats at the dance club
I sometimes wonder if my death will affect anyone, if they will notice that where I once stood still holds the shape of my feet
How about the one where I had so many friends I couldn't keep track
Or the one where we were too scared to make a homemade ouija board
Try the one where I went to someone else's house to celebrate
Here, have the one where all I got from my mother was a dry toned voice-mail
Feast upon the most recent one where I jumped into a pool in 53 degree weather to try and drown
I wonder what the next one has in store for me
It was asking too much of the universe
That I have a good day
And so to expel the hopes and wishes I had for that day,
I slashed a reminder for every year I've lived
And let loose all the hopes I had for ever getting better
you would wrench my wings behind my back whenever I was ready to take off
and when I finally got out of your cage, you took hold and ripped them from my back
and you placed them on yours and sang a sad song
and everyone flocked to you as if you were the one hurting
while I was bleeding and trying to find out how to get back in the air
your god insisted (demanded)
that one child in every odd family
live through hell
as a test (for his pride)
they endured trauma, suffering, heartbreak, tragedy
with god watching, waiting for them to call on him (a narcissist)
but they started dying (their own hands)
he began to grow nervous (does god doubt?)
he made the test harder, he had to destroy those left (scared of his mess)
I survived. I will survive. I will make him get on his knees and beg for my mercy (I am not your plaything. I am my own god)
i've been harboring pain for years on end, served up dishes in various ways, having to mask the disgust I feel when it arrives in droves
people make food to try and heal your despair, and lately all they can seem to make is hurt and so my heart knows nothing but the taste of it
mouth full of anguish and blood and when it opens all that comes out is garbled pleas yet no one can hear
"how are you?" but if I told you you wouldn't know what to do, how to fix it, my suffering makes you uncomfortable and yet
if i died, what would you say?
Rotting from the inside out
Oxygen cannot fix the damage
I am on display, but you won't choose me,
I am bruised and beaten
You see me and I am shown disgust
You pick another and leave
I am thrown out and forgotten
I sit at the table with my sadness in front of me and with trembling hands I pick up my fork and
I taste regret and loneliness and guilt and -
I am choking but what do you use to dilute the worst parts of your life?
Losing air -
I am going to die with all my hurt caught in my throat
I am going to die never knowing what happiness tastes like
I wanted to know peace.
Have you ever had someone tell you they love you
And they convince you that they mean it, that you're going to be with them forever
And then starts the arguments, the shifting blame, the trust being broken, the lies and deceit
And all the abuse and manipulation is too hard to keep up with, you start to feel like you're stuck in a maze and doing everything wrong and making all the wrong turns
And your heart watches you from above, screaming directions that you can't (or don't because you thought this was love) hear
When you get addicted to something, when you get really sick and there are more bad days than good, you learn something about people.
You'll expose your neck only for it to be ripped open, leaving you frantic and gasping for air.
You'll present your belly only to lose everything inside you that was keeping you alive.
You'll have created a pack only to have your heart torn from your chest by those you once ate, slept, and grew with.
We're just animals. If you let your weaknesses show, you'll wind up dead.
i could nail the door shut,
you'd only find a window
i could seal those windows,
you'd only dig your way out
i could fill your hole with my tears,
you'd push the roof out of place
my begging could stretch like webs across the ceiling
and still you'd find some way to steal my heart and leave
I used to eat thorns to remind myself of what I had with you
I swallow petals now that fill my head with scents that cradle me in luxury
My mouth opens and where there once was blood,
My tongue is coated in nectar
My throat lined with color and fuzz
I begin to choke on the leafage that I thought would taste better than you
But in the end, there’s still dirt and worms in my stomach
I felt that my body could bleed no more,
That I was handing it out to the wolves in gallons,
My hands became sore and bruised from dragging my body from the lowest pits
And still I can clench my teeth and find the strength to stand
I am able to make fists and fight for the hope that I am replenishing day by day
It was 4 am and I'd listened to "get well soon" by Ariana Grande about 10 times and started to feel completely overcome. It's a healing song, and I definitely needed it after the year I've had. I highly recommend it.
You've changed your name so much in the years since I left that I feel like I made you up
You're not the same person who abused me until I couldn't hear that name for weeks
That person had me looking over my shoulder for months, scared to talk to anyone, scared to make the wrong move
And now you're internet famous,
writing poetry about heartbreak and suffering
hiding your lies, your deceit, your malice
And I'm trying to put the pieces back together so that I remember how it felt to be loved (abused) by you
I checked my net
but all I got was catfish
Conversations opened, and suddenly
the sight of a notification from "Miah"
makes my heart race
Five days pass and I'm tempted to talk about her
but she doesn't exist in the
so I twist my tongue inside my mouth
and hide the secret of her beneath it
I cannot jinx what isn't real, or tangible
because it's easy to believe in god but "Miah" is 400 miles away
I've only seen her face pixellated on a screen
The implication is planted that I should know more
Mythical creatures are hard to believe in
"Miah's" phone number is linked to "Mike's" smiling face at his graduation
I've put my heart online and the viruses ate at it
but here in the
I'm just another fool with a net full of catfish
I fall for every heart I come into contact with
Acknowledging that they may not return the favor
But accepting that as my penance
For being a sensitive abyss of sadness
people who once confessed they couldn't live without you will find life with others
you'll stop falling apart and instead of fear you'll feel content
your body will no longer need rest or energy, you'll feel almost weightless
you'll hear god's voice telling you that you tried for nothing and that you never were meant to save yourself
I had an English professor tell me that love was hard to write.
At first, I scoffed at her. I'd written about love almost all my life.
But then I realized that I'd only been writing about what I thought love was.
I wrote about men who put their hands around my neck all the while thinking of how easy it'd be to snap it.
I wrote about people I'd considered my friends who held their hands out to me for help only to turn their backs when I asked the same of them.
I wrote about people who came into my life with promises of warmth and understanding, but took my clothes off and never helped me put them back on.
I thought love was supposed to hurt because it was all I'd ever done. In all honesty, I don't know what love is.
When did it get this way
When did wanting to die become my default emotion
When did everything that made me happy fade to shades of grey
How did the people who claim to love me
Allow me to fall into this pit of despair and destruction
Without ever trying to reach in and save me
but does not love taste like alcohol,
burning it's way down, creating a fire in your stomach
coming back up when you least expect it
you heave once, twice,
and it's all out of you and you are a stranger to the buzzing
the buzzing that is infatuation
you fill yourself with enough of it and surely it will **** you
masses flock back to what they desire, that sweet rush and burning
but this too, shall pass
I smile and vouch for recovery
I tell everyone that I am doing my best
I pull the mask onto my face and allow my loved ones to be fooled
There are hearts that I collected beneath my bed, lovers who I craved yet couldn’t stand
Empty bottles filled with broken promises and a log full of numbers I call on private
I smell like *** and agony and can barely stomach my own stench
I am a filthy addict and I am afraid nothing will help me heal
we got tattoos and the ink overpowered your blood
i cut myself open to remind you of it
you grew bored of trying to revive your heart
we pledged our allegiance over shared bottles of *****
the alcohol whispered that I could finally stand on the edge and drop off
you stopped helping me down and started offering to push me
you'd called me your sister since we were eleven
we grew like flowers, but my mind began to wilt
your garden grew despondent,
you pulled your roots from mine and grew away from me
heaven, don't leave me at the gates
i'll shred my throat raw from begging for help to heal an ache that Fear keeps sore as he reminds me
"angels do not befriend the deficient"
i sit in the confessional, the lattice throwing shadows that in the corners of my eyes become demons.
inhale, hold, exhale.
Forgive me not, for it was not me who sinned. But God himself, who allowed the hands between my legs when my thighs were no more than centimeters apart, those who forced themselves to invade my space even as I cried and prayed for mercy. God who allowed their sweat to fall on my face, mixing with my tears. God who caught my breath in my throat until it was scratched raw inside my mouth as a bird in a cage.
It was God who sinned when this happened not once or twice, but so much that my body became a shell and my mind a mallet with which to break. It was God who stood by as I opened my veins and looked for an answer.
Forgive me not father, because you did not protect me, forgive me not, because it was you who did nothing.
Inhale, hold, exhale.
The lattice throws shadows across my lap and my legs have stopped trembling.
Forgive me not father, because you have pillaged me through them.
I'd like you more if you stopped kissing the ribbons of scars on my arms
Feel the cuts beneath your lips only to come away with a ring of blood coating your mouth
Tell me you love me while we stand in a puddle of my sins
Wrap my limbs around your body and fill my corpse with your affection
You'll have to worship me harder if you want to hear my heartbeat
Many have tried before you, if you fail you won't be the last
You'll destroy yourself on my jagged edges
Most people believe that if you're a writer, you're probably carrying a pen and notepad to jot down everything and anything that happens or slithers into your head
But I have never done these things.
I never wanted to be the writer whose words were laced with pain and anguish, whose words tasted bitter and hateful.
I wanted to write about beauty I had never experienced, I wanted people to believe that I knew Happiness and had known her a while,
but I am not that writer.
So my skin suffers the fate of a writer who cannot speak or type the plethora of emotions of what I cannot call a "life".
My skin holds years of grief and torment, lashed across my wrists like religious scrolls relaying of past tortures.
My skin carries my battles in the form of sharp injuries, telling everyone that although I am smiling, I do not know peace.
I wish I could apologize to my body for forcing it to carry this narrative of despondency within me.
I tore my wings from my body the first time
I only pluck feathers now
I want to give you what's left
I repaint the walls of my heart only for you to rip away my work and find layers of hurt and blood
I want to feel the same love I give out,
I want it to rock me like a baby in a cradle
I want my heart to cry like I do and say "I'm home, I'm home"
she recounts her life with the lovers she's had,
reliving adoration as she counts them off on her fingers
she showcases their best qualities
I cannot upstage her
I recount my life with prescription bottles
plastic and pharmacies
the time I swallowed all I had because I wanted to be happy
while she recounts, I relapse
I call you and as usual your phone goes to voicemail
I open my mouth and poetry flows out
It is like I'm choking on everything I want to say but it is all phrased so
That I want to erase the message and start again
When I play it back to myself I hear my garbled cries of agony
I hear pleas that are sure to fall on deaf ears
I hear promises that I should've made months ago
And I delete the message without hesitation.
"When someone gives you something, you always say thank you"
I look at
my unpaid hospital bills
my unpaid therapist bills
my empty prescription bottle, due for a refill two weeks ago
my scarred wrists
my trembling hands
my broken relationships
and I turn to my mother and say
i used to ask him not to pull leaves off of trees
and he'd laugh and drop them over my head
the trees looked bare and cold, they'd shiver beneath his gaze
i believed their leaves would regrow just as strong
years later he plucked all my leaves, stained with my blood and tears
his hands full leaving me bare and waiting
I do not celebrate Mother's Day
What is a mother?
a polaroid that gradually loses its color?
An air conditioner so broken all you can feel is the chill in your bones?
A staticky sound that turns into an overwhelming shriek?
An accomplice to anxiety?
A trigger to bipolarity?
what is my mother?
he pushes me onto my knees
our father who art in heaven
i open my mouth for him
lord, i want to recommit my life, my heart to you
he holds my head in his hands and i take in all of him
you alone are worthy of all honor and praise
his eyes close and his head tilts back
he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you
by his love
i can feel tears running down my cheeks and i look up and capture his eyes
i saw the lord...lofty and exalted
his mouth tilted into a grin
make your face shine on your servant; save me in your
he pushes my head back and i come away with drool and tears dripping to the floor
now the works of the flesh are evident
i smile at him and my gaze demands his admiration
for this is the love of god
Gears should only spin so fast but my brain knows no limits and only strives for my hands to do more, create more, work faster and harder without tiring, my body is pleading with me to lay down my arms because you cannot fight a one person war -
and there are beads of sweat racing down my face because I cannot slow down or I will fall into that same pit that I've spent so much of this year in, etching away days and days of no motivation, no drive, no desire to live and here I am trying to convince my clever heart that it's okay to dip into this lake of happiness -
or is it that?
and again sleepless nights and a room as unkempt as my mind and the thoughts, the tenants inside of it, and maybe one day I will stop.
And it won't feel so bad.
The ability to wake up and remember to brush my teeth, brush my hair, wash my face
The ability to remember to shower on a daily basis and actually wash my body instead of staring off into space
The luxury of eating 3 full meals a day and enjoying my appearance
The sinful self indulgence of allowing *** to be purely for pleasure and nothing else
The comfort of being able to go out in public in large crowds and manage to keep my head on my shoulders
The delight of being able to communicate clearly what I desire and need from other people
*What an extravagant life that would be, if only I were not born as me
Am I doomed to become like her
A distant cold shell of a woman
Who seems like a ghost that no one can put to rest
Hardened over time of being misunderstood
Or will I grow up like him
Angry at the innocent people who cross my path
Self absorbed and manipulative
Someone who people avoid when they're out in public
Better yet will I find myself in the middle
Angry and hostile
Cold and detached
But twice as alone
He used to feed you a bowl full of glass promises. You’d smile at him cautiously and chew them carefully because seeing you pretend that you weren’t hurt made him happy. Later you’d walk into the bathroom and stare at the shards coating the cave of your mouth like paintings.
He used to hand you promises that would stain. It was worth it, to see his face light up as you pretended not to notice the growth covering your palms and fingers. You’d wipe your hands on your clothes. You stopped wearing anything light enough to hold the stain.
He used to fill your head with promises that lit your brain on fire. You’d tell him your head hurt and his smile would fly away. You’d stomach the pain because you didn’t think you had a choice. You let the flames consume the last of your sanity.
He used to be so careless with your heart you were sure you couldn’t use it again. But even the deepest wounds heal.
When most people say they have seasonal depression, they usually mean in the winter
Depression and winter go hand in hand
Darkness, cold, shorter days, holidays where if you're alone you're miserable, deadlines
But some people don't understand that seasonal depression happens in the summer too
I wish I could explain why I don't want to go outside when the sun has never been brighter
I wish I could help you comprehend why going swimming is a perfect way for me to drown myself
I wish I could help you understand why I don't feel accomplished or at ease, I feel under pressure to have a good summer
But I can't
Do you remember?
How you told me we were "playing a game"
And you made me do things no 4 year old should do
You made me think we were having fun
That I was winning this game
But I'm older now and I realize that I've lost
You probably don't even remember
But I do
I've been wondering why my back is so sore,
Why my shoulder blades stretch with every breath
And I realized my wings are growing back
From the ones you ripped off when you left
No one is to blame for the way I hated myself
No one is to blame for how lonely I felt even when surrounded by people
I did this to myself and if I fail I don't want to discuss why
Because nothing will change
The world will still revolve
I will still be void of what I want
Say it was always me, always me
Comfort yourself in your blanket of blame
Allow your friends who never knew me,
Never loved me,
To assure you that you were right, of course you were right
Say whatever you need
To convince yourself that I didn't give you my all until my hands were bleeding and broken
From the pedestal I built to put you on
If you fell out of love with me,
Would you be brave enough, strong enough,
To look me in the eyes
And tell me that you no longer felt the same way?
Would you be able to stomach my immediate panic,
My desperation as I beg you to tell me that you're joking
Would you be able to look me in the face
And feel nothing but sympathy
As I completely crumble before you?
If I could stop swallowing pain in gulps that choke me
If I could learn to breathe when I find myself sinking into despair
If I could trick myself into remaining calm when waves of agony and heartbreak threaten to drown me
I might learn to love swimming again
"Put your trauma in a box, put it on a shelf, and don't acknowledge it until you're ready"
My therapist smiles at me and I feel like I might actually be losing my mind
But I go home
And I put everything she did to me in a box in my mind
And I bury it in the deepest corners where old lovers who left live
For a while, I forget
But in the midst of the night
When I'm deprived of sleep
The box jumps and thrusts itself to the front of my mind,
Causing the top to fall off -
I remember watching that movie with her
Crying with her
My own favorite movie has betrayed me and made me sick and inconsolable
I get up, grab the DVD case, break the disk into pieces
The box returns to an even deeper corner
But this time it takes a part of me with it