It's 11:17 AM, and my mind is thinking all the wrong things.
My thoughts are doing somersaults,
And I've got no one to blame but myself

Till death, my love.
Till death do us part.
Through thick and thin,
bones and blood,
nicotine and temporary highs,
we'll make it through it all,
because we know that none of it
ever really mattered.

Till death do we part,
because it would bring too much pain before,
and we know that together,
we could scale mountains,
while only struggling up inclines,
when apart.

What, my darling,
is a rose without its thorn?
what source of protection does it have?
how long shall it live,
without its immunity?
without its lifeline?
not long, in reality.

Till death do us part,
for without you,
I'm simply a rose,
lacking thorns.

Sometimes...
Sometimes I just don't understand.
why in a world of colors
My heart is black.
Blacker than storm clouds on a day sent from hell,  
Where rain falls,
And that's the only thing
That can camouflage my tears.  
Blacker than deep waters,
Where the only incentive is to drown.
My soul is a hollowed out hole,
where the demons in me seek comfort
and none of these words could
even begin to describe this hell,
where I am trapped to live in this shell
of a body that I just want to get out,
and live and breathe as someone else.
This heat bears down on an unforgiving earth, yet I'm still cold.
This cold radiates from within me,
Turning my heart to ice,
And my soul to stone.

And he's the only one who can save me from myself.

Being home is like
being back under the bell jar
(To quote the great Sylvia Plath)
Back under the bell jar, where the air
is stale and ***** and before long
you begin to suffocate.
You feel trapped as would a firefly,
on one of those warm summer nights
where you run around in the grass
feeling the moisture on your bare feet
as you catch as many of the twinkling lights
as you can before they hide for the night.
Trapped, slowly suffocating because in your nightly
adventure, you are careless and free, and this
causes you to forget to put holes in the jar
where you imprison these wonders for the night.
But only for the night, for your carelessness has caused their demise
while you sleep beside these living night lights,
they begin to die, their lights not shining so bright
anymore, yes they die.
Their death symbolizes your depression as the bell jar
closes you in and you become claustrophobic
gasping for the air you know waits just outside your prison
but it's not really there for you will never escape
this horrible place they've put you in
Yes I've twisted catching fireflies into a murderous action
but believe me,

It always was