It's funny how we keep things bottled up,
in the dead of the night, dark of the room
the razor was to my wrist again-
it demanded I paint these secrets across my skin
and feel the blood rush to the open wound I caused myself.
Then I looked up and saw myself in the mirror
sunken eyes and hollowed demeanor
this wasn't me.
The light in my eyes was dark again
and the blue where I used to be was now just gray.
So I dropped what was holding me hostage-
and I turned to the pills instead.
I took one, down the hatch it went.
My breath stayed shallowed and harsh
as if my lungs were crying with me.  
I looked down at the bottle
poured it's contents to the floor and counted-
is ten enough to **** me?
I took another.
is nine more enough to **** me?
I didn't want to know.
So I held the pills beneath my fingertips
as if they were the grim reaper
and I put them back in their place.
Nine pills all back in their happy little bottle-
I realized they held more power in my life than I did.
So I broke, threw the bottle and broke the wall.
Then silence.
The only thing I heard were the thoughts in my head
and the silence of my cell phone
that I wished was ringing out to help me.
But I was alone again.
I hadn't felt this low in so long-
but this time no one was around to care.
I thought about how I could end it
and I probably wouldn't be found
until three days later.
As the sun sets and rises, sets and rises, sets and rises again
I would be one with the sky
and I wonder why the **** I want so badly to die-
because the past two weeks of my life
I finally felt ******* alive
like I could breath again-
like anxiety took a vacation with depression
and left me with the optimist to babysit.
But I guess their vacation was short-lived
and they came back-
made a mess of what I had built for myself
what I had been working so ******* hard for.
Chaos.  

So in short, I wanted to **** myself last night
thought of all the ways I could do it-
but then I saw the faces of the people I love
and then they were masked by all the pain I've caused
then that was masked by all the people that hurt me
so my knuckles repeatedly kissed the punching bag
until they bled onto the white cloth like decoration-
I was an artist.
The medicine kicked in-
sleep kissed my eyes and made my mind foggy
and I began to think about all the good things again.
I remembered the way silence was my favorite melody
and I drifted into the nirvana I was hoping for.

It's funny how we keep things bottled up-
because the silence of my cell phone
made me realize how strong I really was.
The secret I keep of last night reminds me
how many secrets are able to be kept.
The war raging inside me isn't one you win or lose-
It's the kind you have to fight in order to survive
even if no one even knows it's inside you.

I spoke, as the words left my lips I choked.
I was drowning in my own tears
trying to keep myself afloat by telling myself to swim
but it somehow wasn't enough.

Engulfed in the flames
I had lit myself on fire just to keep this passion burning
but the flicker in the night and the sparkle in my eye
has burned out once again-
so I realize loneliness is my only friend.

I spoke, choking on the words my lips built for me
that my mind didn't have the strength to formulate
all I kept saying was no, and I couldn't breathe anymore.
My palms became like a statue-
a monument of the tragedy I had faced.
Built of stone like my current demeanor.
I spoke for the first time since you took away my voice.
Messages on Facebook encrypting sinister undertone
crawled their way into my skin and latched onto my cerebrum
and all I saw was gray, there was no black and white anymore-
the cortex turned into a vortex and my mind spun facts into theories
truth into fiction and I began to wonder if anyone would listen.

But my mother held a stone face-
though my hands were stone cold and my face sheet white
she held me like I was the only piece of artwork that ever mattered.
So I spoke, let the tears drip from my face
like I was washing away my mistakes
and everything I never had the guts to say.
The words slipped from my lips like black ice on a winter day-
the kind you stay home from school for
it was the kind of cold you never left your house for.

As I told my mother how the man who stole my voice
stole my innocence as well, she wept.
The days all started to blend together again
and once the secret I had been hiding was finally free
I wasn't sure I was worth keeping anymore.
My mother's face turned cold-
and it hasn't felt the heat since..

Soon enough we both clung to the fire in our hearts-
too passionate to let it burn out or fade away.
Though I've still been swimming in the deep end
I don't feel as if I'm drowning much anymore.
These days have become watercolors
and these nights alone have become acrylics
so I guess, I am a masterpiece
even if inside there's some tragedy.

There will be no version of me you will ever think to admire
as your hands grasp my words and alter them as they leave
I realize this was never how I wanted this to turn out.
Your words to me are like waterproof mascara
running down and staining my cheeks-
you're the opposite of what you promised you'd be
and you make a mockery of what makes me feel so beautiful.
You showed me what it was like to actually feel something
and now I remember why I never did in the first place.
I seem to be at fault for all the faults you think you carry
and this misplaced insecurity is now our imminent demise.
I don't feel anything anymore.
Remembering what it feels like to be in your arms
seems to be a distant memory
and sometimes I want to keep it that way.
I am tired of making myself small so you feel bigger-
and I am tired of using all my strength to light your world
when you insist on living in the darkness
and never giving yourself enough light too see-
that I'm walking away slowly.
You can either run to me, or watch as I leave-
because I am more than you make me out to be
I will no longer be your nothing.

They say distance
is just numbers,
that time goes by
in a flash.

They say money
can be found
and that space is just temporary.

But it's not.

And I'm sorry
but space is forever,
money is scarce,
time is draining
and the distance is growing.

I want to say we'll meet again
even just in my dreams

but I'm shackled by the ankles
and if I let my head dream
in the clouds
then my heart will bury
beneath dirt.

-JSC

I'm sorry for freaking out yesterday.
I just never have had my heartbroken before.
I think the hardest part about this **** is that I see you ******* everywhere.
Your smile is captured in the moon and the way your lips glisten in its light are like stars.
Your hair smells like rain an flows like the waterfalls that come after the storm!
Your eyes drown the sun in oceans but it still burns with just as much intensity!
Your laughter matches the birds song every morning and I always think something's funny but nothing is because when I realize it's not you
I shoo the birds away....
You broke my ******* heart
But that's okay.
That's okay
Cause this is the first time and it sure as hell won't be the last!
So while it's in all these pieces, I'm giving them away like oprah because YOU GET A PIECE
YOU GET A PIECE
YOU GET A PIECE
WE ALL GET A PIECE
because I'm a lover and there's enough to go round
I'm a protector
So you know you'll be safe and sound
I'm a feeler so you know I'm not ******* around
I'm ******* this town cause I'm done with all of this clowning around
Be still
Stay there
Don't you dare move
Cause I'm about to walk away
And I want you to watch
Because as hard as it is for me
And as easy as it was for you
You're the one that's missing the **** out.

Part of me
                                    Feels empty
A hollow shell
                                    Non-existent
The other part
                                    Bubbles with anxiety
A tightness
                                    I can't lose

They are not mixed together

But they are also not pushing each other away

They are just coexisting

Something that shouldn't happen

That couldn't happen

So why is it happening now

?

I want to write. I want to ramble on and on about the symphonies of my breathing and the adrenaline of adventure soaring through my desires. I want to elaborate on elaboration. I want my heart to spill out with the roll of my tongue. I want to invite you in. I want to walk the ground of every culture and discover the hidden secrets in the nooks and crannies of the world. But I've lost my muse.