At night while you're lying in your bed, angry at the sleep your body is depriving itself of, I hope you think of me and I hope your blood boils.
When your brain is dancing, tangled and knotted with your demons from all realms of your life; past, present, future, and you feel your hands clench into wrecking ball like fists, I hope you feel my phantom hands close lightly around them reminding them the pain isn't worth it. And then I hope you swing anyway.
When you grip a hand full of your hair, I hope you feel my fingers brush the tendrils from your face, and then I hope you pull.
When you lean against the first solid object in your path, on both arms, just looking for something to hold you up, I hope you feel my arms snake around you and my breath on your neck reminding you to breathe, just breathe with me, like this, slow it down, match me. Then I hope you forget how to breathe all together and your legs give out and you fall, weak, to the ground.
While you're down there shaking with anger and sadness and heaving out tears you dare let no one see, I hope you miss my calmness.
And more than anything, I hope as every second plays out you know that all it would take is one call, and I'd be there to ease you out of the nightmare I know you're trapped in.
And then, I hope you choke to death on the thought of letting someone like that go.
And I hope for your sake it was worth it.

l am the familiar unfamiliar.
I am a house of bones working as your cage of sorrow.
I am the three o’clock suicide hotline call your mom doesn’t know about.
I am your shallow breathing.
On a clear, cold night I am the emerald flash
Of the dying sun on the ocean.
Blink, and I’ll be gone.
I am the lukewarm coffee you force yourself to finish at the cafe.
Bitter, cold, and disappointing,
But you can’t stop drinking.
You once told me that coffee was the only thing keeping you alive,
So I pulled the plug on the machine.
I am the regret you throw up from your weekend binging routines,
Spilling from your mouth and falling off your lips like lava.
You could never keep me down.
I am Van Gogh, cutting my own ear off
In attempts to get your love.
I didn’t realize that giving it to you meant throwing a piece of myself away.
I am the earthquake that shattered the foundation of Los Angeles
just because I could.
After all, you always said you liked disaster.
On the nights that you actually manage to sleep, I am the spider
That crawls into your mouth.
It’s always been my favorite place to go.
I will love you like a mother loves her unborn child,
Cherishing the sight of blood just because it reminds me of you.
I am the two things you hate the most,
Paper cuts and taxes.
I am the two things you love the most,
Smoking and forgetting.
When you go to light your lucky, I am the kiss
Between the flame and the paper:
Something you only want to do once.
But you don’t have a smokers cough for no reason.
I am the desire in a baby’s grip to hold his mothers hand.
But, I am the mother who never cared.
I am not the tropical showers everyone wishes for,
But the devastating monsoons.
I am the reason storms are named after people.
When the winds are howling and your fingers are blistered with frostbite,
You can count on me to not be there.
Your mother always warned you to wear a seatbelt,
For fear of a collision.
I am the windshield your head crashes through when you don’t listen,
Carving the word
“Guilt”
Into your scalp.
I only wanted to see how your brain worked
When you weren’t thinking of me.
I am the look on your best friends face when he catches you
Sleeping with his girlfriend.
I am the teeth you lose from the punch;
Hide me under a pillow and I’ll disappear.
I am your ravenous drug habit,
Breathe me in enough and I’ll give you a high
You could have never imagined.
I am addiction.
I am withdrawal.
I am the lies of God and the hope for redemption
At your AA meetings.
Talk me up enough and I’ll be truer than your fathers gambling habit.
I am the tears that fall from your grandfathers eyes
When you tell him about the last time you tried to **** yourself.
After all, it was just yesterday.
I am the stones you placed in your pockets
And the icy river you plunged yourself into.

I am not the stranger who saved you.


I will never be the one to save you.

They say society will accept us. They say be yourself. And then they hate you for it. They say "your ok". They say i will never leave you. They say they won't hurt us. They say the world is a good place filled with good people. Don't they know we are corrupted? We are a poisoned youth. Made out to be something we are not. Infatuated with the image of perfection. Of beauty. Trying to fit a mold that changes everyday. They say society will accept us. And all thus time they act like they are telling us something new.

-Kennedy G. Woodard

Anastasia was my friend
her face was always pale
she always wore a ribbon
& her daddy went to yale

she was the talk of all the playground
the new girl always is
excited, unready to settle
like her coke-a-cola's fizz

until she sat beside me
& tapped me very slow
"i want to run away," she said
"but i don't know where to go"

i too was quite unpleased
"come and follow me"
so there we packed our knapsacks
and took off for Belize

Now you know that I’m just a borderline
I’ll kick you out when my bloodstreams flow
Even if a firm hand on mine could stem it,
I let you in only to tickle the sinew and marrow
But I love you, true, you’re my only glass case
Needing you to borrow all my pain,
I pinned your wings and made you taste
The bile of my noncommittal pendulum again, again.
Between the tumult of self hatred and desire’s embrace
That dark dysphoria you found in seeing me
Enflamed loss when I left the mire of us
Without a battle calm instilled at the seams
Allowing our hearts in the rolls of our sleeves
We are dangerous.