It's that bad again.
I want to slam my head against a brick wall and watch
the blood trickle down my uneven skin.
Hopeless
Restless
I know it all too well.
I just want to be.
But I won't let myself.

It's all my fault. It always is.

I want to watch the deep red liquid fall aimlessly down my
uneven skin.
I want to feel something.
I want to feel pain.
I want to hurt.
Why do I always have to feel helpless?
Worthless.
I'm stupid to think anyone would ever want me.
I don't even want me.

I'm a perfectionist but I'm so far from perfect.
It's that bad again.
I don't want to see scars on my body.
I want to slam my ignorant brain into a wall.
There's the anger I always feel.

Release it.
I want to release it.
I don't want to be angry anymore.
I'm too bitter.
I don't want to be bitter.

"To hell with the day," she said.
For the sun hides the stars, the moon, and the dark.
Why must we run from the night?
That's when we can be most alive!
Shimmering stars are our party lights,
we mourn the moon but it gets lonely, too.
I see more demons during the day.
To hell with the sun.
I'll be friends with the night.

Your fingertips,
the gentle brush against my skin,
the trembling it caused,
frightened me.
So new was this experience,
the overwhelming flood of emotions and
happiness.
You elated me.
You were lovely.
So lovely.

I could not handle your fingertips,
as they brushed against my trembling skin.
Every motion you made with your fingertips
I could read as if you were writing a book upon
my flesh.
I was a blank page,
and you were the pen.
Your fingertips,
pouring ink all over this new found feeling.

I wish you would never stop writing.

Rain is rain.
There's no other way to explain
the sound it makes as it hits
the Earth.
         It's the soft, sad sound of
            seconds,
                     slowly
                            slowly
                                  slipping away.
Time has gone away in the moments
it
takes
for the ground
to
        drown

like bodies and their sorrows,
a soul and it's pain.
Hopelessly flailing
     frantically wailing
            drowning in emotions
             that mean to spite you.
If only you realized that the
drowning, choking, spitting;
was meant to cleanse you're broken
soul,
not **** it.

I've lost what it's like to live,
Well really, I never had it.
I've become bored with living;
There's not much to look forward to.
Stuck in the daily rotation, I sleep
Eat
Drink
Talk
Work.
One of these days I will sit
In silence.
For sake of hearing what the world has to say.
I'm sure it will whisper to me
'There are far better things to come.'
I just have to make them happen.