Its always there, in the back of my mind.
Not like anyone cares
Not like I care much for it either
But its always there

A desire, like a craving for something sweet
A want
A need

It pulls me in sometimes
It wont leave until its satisfied
It never is
I wont allow it

It makes me think
It keeps me sane and aware
It breaks me down and eats me inside


Id be confined
I would be left in isolation, away from those who believe in the illusion of safety

I wouldn't stop at just one
I couldn't have a limit once I begin
Why stop when I have already started?

Guys like you are the reasons my poems are so repetitive.

I didn't have a sweet sixteen.
I didn't have a sweet anything.
But I didn't complain,
I had no right to.
I was a bad girl,
And besides,
Sixteens not all that sweet anyways.

Everyone was so consumed in their own sadness that they failed to notice mine.

Drinking summer skin,
I hear the voices in the night sky
I'm a slave to the darkness around the stars,
and I can't remember why

One, two, twenty-three percocet in my soul.
Ambulance lights breathing throughout the mist.
Pump my stomach like the sawed-off shotgun
that I was too afraid to use,
because what if I 'miss'?
What spectrum of desolation to be traced with lips;
to kiss away the desire to exist.

Mirrored reflection injection causes the resurrection of my imperfection.
I see me for who I am, who I was, and who I won't be.
It's the collection of
my eyes dilating and my knees speculating their arrival
to the blue and white tiling disguised as neo-survival.
My mind is evaporating. My body begins to convulse.
I am a ghost in a machine. I am without a pulse