Before you fall in love with a suicidal girl
Don't.
Suicide can not be romanticized and though she might idolize you
Remember that you may not be enough.
Remember that this world may never be enough.
Demons don't just go away, sometimes they just hide in the shadows.
And even at the highest noon they are there. Just smaller. The sun will go down.
She will always have shadows.
Remember that no matter what you do
You are irrelevant in her master plan.
She will plan out her letters in your arms.
When she is silent hold her. Make her know that she is loved, it may not be enough but those few moments in your arms might make her think twice.
But don't assume for one second you will be her savior.
When you see cuts on her wrists do not beg her to stop.
She won't.
She will cut deeper for letting you see her weak.
She will try to be strong.
She will put on a show for you. She will make you forget she was ever depressed.
Remember that sunsets can make you forget that night is bound to follow.
Know that night will follow.
When you get her final love letter to you
Ignore the fact that it is stained in blood.
Do not pour your precious time.into wondering if she suffered.
She will write her apologies in her best handwriting.
Do not read it.
Get in your car and drive.
Drive to the nearest bar and read the letter through hazy bloodshot eyes.
Do not blame yourself.
Do not look for moments you could have done something different.
It'll drive you crazy.
Before you fall in love with a suicidal girl.
Don't.

Long Sleeves.
Always long sleeves.
Even the summer.


Who here gets it?

All my life I have lived
next to oceans or mountains,
and at one time both.

I have lived with people
in these these places as well,
some of them beautiful
and some made terrible.

I see my bookshelf next to my door
and I hear the waves crashing with my
window open, but it seems to
mean nothing to me anymore.

I understand now that my
essential fallacy was in thinking
that me, being broken, could
somehow heal myself by
healing others.

The realization that my
entire way of looking at life
is entirely superfluous,
may be more than I
am willing to accept.

I go to bars with the
intention of putting
assumptions behind me,
of seeing people without
the judgements laid upon
me and without the judgements
I in turn lay upon them.

But  know that it means nothing,
that all of my writing and
all of my talk about God
and Morality and the search for
Truth is merely a cover, a charade.

All I have ever been looking for,
the only thing that I have ever really
wanted more than money or talent
or prestige or power, more than
anything...is for someone to
tell me that it will one day be ok.

He is used to waking most
mornings, and there is nothing.
No fluttering heart,
no breathing other than his own.
It is better in a way,
knowing what to expect,
come time to meet the day.

At some point in life,
he decided that it was
easier to stop longing
for things that once
made waking something
worth looking forward to.

Those tired hopes and
those memories aching
with romantic sentimentality
never did serve any real
purpose other than to
foster eventual solitude.

Writing is all that he
allows himself now,
the only recourse back
to that ancient past
full of magic and great
soul-shattering loves.

He both loves and
hates the nothing of
these mornings,
just as he loves
and hates this fire
that has almost gone out.

I have now gone from this place,
this running river
this journey seeking a farce.

I shall walk no more
those tired paths
leading nowhere.

The desert has been my
companion for so long
and I do not know how to
leave her embrace.

Nor do I know
how to put your
bare shoulder behind
who I once was.

You have left signs
and messages written
in the sands, upon rocks
at the shores of those oasis
we once made love near.

Yet I cannot read them,
I cannot understand these
portents drawing me
further toward a love
that I know I am unworthy of.

Perhaps I may get up and go
body as well as spirit,
I may answer this call
felt since I was fifteen.

I shall get up and go
I shall go to where you live
that place you call home.