Have my eyes really shown
That I am so blissfully alone?
I don't know why it appears that way,
It's weird not keeping it in this way.
I feel the relief, I feel the pain.
I feel it as if they're the sun and some rain.
It's not my fault my eyes show hurt.
My best friend always observes and says I'm sad.
I swear I'm not... Am I going mad?
Maybe I'm happy, maybe I'm sad.
Is there a possibility that my eyes have truly shown
That I am so blissfully alone.

Blood is trickleing down my side
As the knife gets more deep
I just want to go into a never ending sleep
Stabbing, thrashing, and pushing
As the knife gets closer to the bone
All i can do is harden like stone
your cold face
Thoose wild eyes
Grow darker with every lie
But what if my pain wasent from the knife?
what if i dient care about the lies?
I just want to please you
For you to be proud to call me yours
But all the slamming of the doors
And all thoose hatefull words
Dig in
Worse then a knofe
They just might take my life
Is that what you want?
Is that your goal?
To knock me down and push me
Over the edge
Then look down over the ledge and laugh becuase you win?
If thats not what you mean than watch what you say
Becuase you words hurt worse than a knife
And they just might take my life

I don't sleep much anymore.
It's the same as when we first met,
even though it's not the same.
I used to think "alone" was an adjective,
now I know it's just the state
of not fitting anywhere.
I don't fit anywhere.
There's nowhere to call home.
I hate being awake,
it just reminds me you're not here.
I hate being asleep,
it just reminds me that I'll wake up.
I don't write much anymore.
I have nothing left.
Words can't describe the 
pounding in my head,
or the emptiness in my bones.
So when you ask, "What's wrong?",
I don't have much to say besides,
"I don't sleep much anymore."

God, beautiful God
your savior voice converges
from every direction
but your deafening song, adrift
in a thousand siren winds,
carries flickers of fear to my
spread-open operating table self

how those hands work!
forcep fingers draw red lines
and pluck out the worms
once planted by ache

casting aside swathes of skin
and blood-slick baubles of silver,
you pull out my pearls
and put me back together

crossing my burgeoning breast
are threads of saintly white
my paragon body immune
to pain and love alike

when Eve ate the apple
she did it every day
to keep the blessed
doctor away

There is a storm in my heart
Raining colors on my mind
From your words that you whisper
When mine are hard to find

The drops fall heavy
In a musical scale
-music unheard of
a heavenly hail

that soothes my fear
of coming days
when you won’t be near
with your angel gaze

feeding my heart
with the food of your soul
yes, my puzzle is complete
because you’ve made it whole

and all of my moments
are tinted with you
a brand new color
between red and blue

despite my instincts
I squeeze you tighter
Almost breaking that
Which has made the world brighter

I do my best to fight it
And keep you from harm
Its quite a scary thing
To hold the whole world in your arms


You are art
And could never bore me
When every word you speak
Is a story

That reminds me of why
There is ground beneath the sky
Each second of you exciting
Like a bird about to fly

None of this expresses
Just how you live within me
But I’ll be content in spending my life
Explaining through poetry

And maybe I’m just gone
Maychance I have gone crazy
But every sound my ears meet
Seems to rhyme with Katie

Katie, the forest
Katie, the stream
Katie, hell and heaven
Katie, everything in between

If this is losing ones mind
Let it never return again
I’ll be content in the void
Alone with Katie, the pen

And when death finds me
At the end of all things
I will smile inside, knowing

I’ve heard the voice with which love sings

for Beginners*

imagine a disposable razor
on the oldest face you know,
deteriorated and dropped,
the sun's shadow in the cropped crowd

               we forget he's there sometimes, they'll say.
               he always shaves on a Sunday, they'll pray.
               the dog died not long back, some'll whisper.

imagine a week's worth of beard
down a plug hole, some bits black
some bits gray,
some bits there 'cos he pressed a little hard that day

                              we forgot he was there, they'll say.
                              he always shaved on a Sunday, they'll pray.
                              only a week ago he went, some'll whisper.

imagine no one holding your hand
down the stairs, across the road, into
cheap 24 hour corner shops,
imagine no one holding your hand when it matters,

                                               or mattered.

my arms remember razor blades and spiked needles
and my veins ache to feel the warmth of her
swimming perfectly through my bloodstream
and engulfing my every fear, my every desire
until i am nothing but a pool of sticky tar

my nostrils burn without the powder
flying into my brain, and dripping down my throat
keeping me awake for days on end
and opening up my mind for my pen
shaking as i hold it to the paper; scribble

my tongue dwells on the bitter taste of hallucinogens
that made me dance in the coldest rain
and swim in the smallest pools of warm blood
that erupted from the belly of an orange tiger
who held my hand, and danced to the beats

my stomach remembers the feeling of pill bottles
emptied out; the tablets dissolved
coaxing me into warm slumbers, and forgetfulness
i miss the feeling of letting go
of love, of pain, of regret