I feel my pupils,
Dialate,
My legs become,
A nimble stalk of grass
Blowing in the breeze

Everything is ******* awesome,
The hand of God Himself could not bring me down
From this man made chemical high

I struggle to pull a cigarette,
From a freshly opened pack
Because I can't quite feel my finger tips
**** you, Marlboro..

Leaves shake involuntarily,
On the trees before my eyes
The little piece of square paper,
That rests upon my tongue,
Brings me harmony

There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.
Something comforting.
It is a comfort only very damaged people understand- the tacit agreement to cause pain, and to receive it.
Pleasure is for people who have what they want.
But for those of us who are starving, ours is best peppered with suffering.
Being with someone who understands that carries its own worth-
I don't want you to make me feel good.
I couldn't stand it if you did.
I don't want you to touch me gently, or ask if I'm alright, or stop to look into my eyes.
I am starving, and so are you: I want your teeth.
I want you to make me hurt. And I want to hurt you.
I want you to hurt me because I'm not him, and I want to hurt you because you're not her.
We want to see each other suffer because we are starving and we need to feel that someone else is.
Don't hold back. I want you to lower me because I'm too good for her.
Don't love me, don't caress me. Dig your nails in. Drip candlewax on my stomach.
One step down from torture is all I can stand in the way of human connection, when it isn't her.
Punish me for looking at her like a baleful puppy tonight, even as you waited in my room with your soft skin and your sharp teeth.
There is nothing you can do that will be too violent, too brutal, too sadistic.
I don't want to be loved right now.
I am too raw.
I want to be touched. I want to be ruined. Leave marks. Smear lipstick.
Lower me because I am
Too
****
Good for her.
Let this heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs don't matter.
Help me **** it. Help me pin my demons to the bed and make them writhe, and I will do the same for you.
Let's exorcise our loves tonight and banish them to hell.
Let's tell our skin that it is irrelevant.
Let's say "*******" to the things that bind us. I will cut your heart out for him.
I will kiss your scars, not to heal them but to remind you that when you put them there you fought for something, something we both fight for now.
Hurt me. Fight her. Do it for her.
Do it for her because I'm not good enough to hurt.
Do it for her because I'm TOO good to hurt.
Crush me.
You could boil me alive and it wouldn't make up for her, so at least leave me bruised.  
I will give you what you need, and you will give me what I need: not love, but contact.
Please,
Let my heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs
Don't
Matter.

There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.

i fill myself up with liquor
only to find that i'm still empty.
people fill me up with expectations & every time they fail
they pour a portion of my soul out into the gutter
& i'm still empty.
lovers pursue me with sweet words & fill me up with dreams of a perfect romance & when it ends my heart breaks, spilling out the few drops left of my soul,
making me emptier than before.
i nourish friendships using the substance from my soul
only to watch them dwindle & die leaving my soul substance-less
& i'm still empty.
i write this poem with the hope that maybe, just maybe it can make me feel whole again but
i'm still empty.

— @beeyroyce.

Her eyes are nothern stars guiding me
Her smile is wind in my sail bringing me near
My Magellan eyes scan her coast and sky
My words, a cartagrapher drawing her every curve and line
I sail an ocean of curiosity till storm of her desire
send me crashing ashore
Let my heart be run aground upon her chest
Let me be stranded upon her lips,
My hands castaway in her hair
And wander her silken seashore
Love has led me to a New World
I want to explore every part
I have found the great fortune of my life
in her untamed, wild land
Like Cortes, I burn the ships
May I never be rescued

i've reverted back to the days when
i held a permanent position
in between the arms of an
ugly, paisley patterned easy chair.

i played a game of hide and seek--
hiding from feelings, sought only by others
to prove that i had some semblance of humanity
lurking behind my blank eyes.

those days were dark, angry
as they ate me up, gathering every drop
of my existence like a sponge

fast forward: i'm far away and
mom says the chair is gone.
what should have felt like anguish
feels like nothing.

all the feelings are in the chair
like coins hidden in the couch cushions,
gone before we recognized their existence.

i've reverted back to the days when
i held a permanent position
in between the arms of an
ugly, paisley patterned easy chair,

but now the chair is gone
and i am left to soak up the feelings.

As you gracefully continue your life,
I'll be waiting.
Hoping.
Deteriorating.
We didn't share much, but it was real,
Was it?
Or was it all a game? A lie?
Maybe I'll taste love too soon
Too much...
I get drunk on that thought, I crave that feeling.
To live.
To breathe.
To be something.
Anything!
But as I stare into your meaningless, distant eyes, a void fills me up.
It crawls to my heart, to my soul.
And it whispers untill I cannot stand it anymore.
The thought of not being with you...