let me hug your limbs.
love me backward and foreword.
we’ll run away with the wind.
let me love your hands,
your waist, your sins.
love me over and over again.
together forever?
that's what we said.
love me backward, forward.
that’s all i need.

rip me apart.
tell me now that i am worth your ridicule.
ostracize me please.
that is exactly what i need.
tell me how i am not worth anything.
my family doesn't even love me,
and that's alright by me.
when i wake up,
i'll remember you yelling in my face
i'm worth less, oh am i?
yep.
i know.
******* ****  ahhhhHHHHHHHHHH
ALRIGHTY
i'm feeling good now.
i'm just gonna go upstairs now and draw a picture of
a teenage, african-american girl with wild, unmanageable curly hair shedding every ounce of water in her body
out on this here paper.
i may play some metal
or maybe old school rap.
it's all right.
everything is perfect, family.
don't worry about me please don't.
i'm okay really.
i don't think about death every second of every day:
monday tuesday wednesday thursday friday saturday and sunday-
nope.
not once have i layed on my grungy carpet and tried to scratch the flesh off of my fat arms and
bled.
i would never even think to do **** a horrendous thing.
i love me so that's enough, right?
but when the love that i have for myself
starts competing with the love that my family is supposed to have for me
then maybe things may become difficult.
it might start to become difficult for me to love myself the way i should be loved.
im ******* fantastic.
but who cares if I see that?
if no one else sees it then might as well be a *******, right?
if my parents interrogate me every ******* time i leave the house
like they have caught me shooting ****** in my room,
what will stop me from actually shooting up morning, afternoon, and before bed?

i swallowed half a bottle last week.
tell me when the ***** will be enough.
tell me when i'll be enough.
i die a little more each day.
a little piece used to erode away from my flesh when i cried,
now there's no more to go.
"Oh, how rude of me to bring my thoughts inside your bedroom."
i am only a Guilty Sadist,
waiting for my soul to float back into infinity.
These problems are only in my imagination.
"We don't even exist anyways."
That's what i keep telling myself but,
this pain seems so real.
The emotional things are becoming physical
and these cuts and bruises on my body aren't fictional.
I am ****** to hell,
but it's not a physical place.
Heaven and hell are only states of mind.
maybe i can escape
and maybe not.
Don't ridicule me because i don't believe in god or allah or buddah or satan,
i have killed myself enough for the both of us.
i am in a whirlwind of emotions and heartbreaks and tears and screams and ghosts and demons and
music.
let the music play.
hear the gentle strum of the guitar and it will all be alright
... but it is still here.
help me
.
**please

The breeze from my fan gently caresses my body.
I am engulfed in the sweetness of the silence
and the ***** of the dark.
It's twenty-eight past one and I'm wide awake.
It isn't insomnia that overwhelms me on this night.
It is the thought of my queens stepping off their thrones
for me.
Mother and grandmother will be united with their prized possession in mere moments;
well moments are actually hours,
but time is slipping through my fingers.
Who would have thought that on the first of August,
a single visit from a family member could make me feel this way?
Happiness truly does exist when you wait for it.
He sure is a trickster in the world of imagination:
He hides for such a long time and makes it appear as if he has gone,
but he's not.
He's watching every move
and after a few cases of disphoric actions occur,
Happiness, accompanied by Karma, jump out to save their children.
It's beautiful,
also quite irritating,
but beautiful, all the same.
This is just the way of the world.
The sooner one comes to this realization,
the sooner they will be content with their own being.

Seal up my love and ship it away.
There may be many out there for me,
but only one caresses my heart and cuddles my soul.
His name must abstain from my lips.
For his train, I have missed and I'll watch it whistle away.
Continue down this path in hell.
I count the days you've wished me will or
said goodnight or held me tight.
Your words no longer kiss my ears
or love my fears
or tell me sorrowful lullabies.
Give me my heart back,
in a cup.
The sunset can wait.
I want you as mine.
I;ll love you until the skies run dry,
until your lips graze mine,
until the end of time