The feeling of the blade running across your skin.
The blood dripping down your legs, and arms.
The numb feeling going all over your body.
Is that what you wanted in the first place.
Not to feel your pain.
Also not having those horrible thoughts in your mind.
After awhile those thoughts will come back with bigger urges...

I am a
broken vase,
this is my face.

Pure glass-- frozen shut.
Do not touch me--
or I will cut.

Viciousness and hostility is projecting the devil inside yourself upon others,
The far thought in the back of your mind that you can't accept, so you lash out!
Not being able to understand yourself must be hard right?
There must be a darkness that lurks inside that you don't care for understanding.
So it shines, it's shines a kind of dark glow,
where the evil inside you is now very much real and no longer a passing dark thought that fades with the progression of a day.
You were provided no escape in a battleground that is a head, that is a prison.

Your voice that shakes like earth quakes,
you never wanted to be pathetic,
so you sought the road of intimidation,
controlling others with fear.

You were so scared of becoming pathetic and the irony in this situation is you fought so hard creating a facade that came off to be strong and hostile,
but really you were the trapped one,
slave to the devil inside of yourself.
I could say I feel sorry for you but that cards over played by now and you don't deserve my condolence.

It's a sort of tough love you know?
It forms like callus in the crevice of an ear drum,
makes you go numb,
I felt deaf for so long trying to clean out my ears of the damage that was done.

You hung there on the cross showing me what not to be,
I resented you in so many ways but then came maturity,
As I slowly realized that in many ways you showed me who not to be,
You sacrificed yourself with such nobility.

It's a shame we don't get to speak through eyes blind coated with concrete,
with ears that don't hear,
pleads all so sincere and neat.
Your skin is aging but you don't see,
contradictory, image of self in mind but the mirror isn't so kind.

With all that said I am no one to cast blame,
more as I am an outlet for understanding,
you were provided no escape in a battleground that is a head, that is a prison.

Shes a glass of whiskey and coke
Shes a hit with a definite choke
Shes an untamed wildflower in May
Shes a destined part of the day
Weather you see her or not shes most certainly there
From those torn up jeans to that fiery hair
Shes most likely to turn up everywhere
With a face like hers she can blend with the crowd
But when its time for her to stand out
****
She can make a room stare.
Shes a magician with an umexplainable act
Shes the leader of a suicide pact
When she says jump most ask how high
And i guess thats what shes trying to define
With the envy of others on her side
All she tries now is to hide
But she cant quite make it
Can you see why
Shes a poet with sparkles in her eyes
So any man will meet their demise
Just to convince her shes worth their time.

Nothing there--
but an idea
in my stained mind.

Its always the breath of the night
Which steals my breath away...

You get exactly what God you think He is.

I'm trying to make art but I'm numb.
Lost the flow somewhere along the lines of wine and soft talks among friends
Where I already expressed most things of importance
And took no time to tend to the papers in front of me.
It's okay though.

I don't think I could ever speak so much I would never have a reason to write,
Bits of conversation just get lost in the air sometimes,
making it hard to form the sentences or sonnets.
But I'm so guarded in the places I never wanted to be,
I have too many things I could never tell through my teeth,
And that's when I find myself here,
A tad bit drunk and with canceled plans,
It's okay though.