I'm on a whim contemplating between disparity and continuity.


Stuck between where the fire meets its maker doused in gasoline.

Who self destructed to the point where her hands aren't clean.


And turning a deforested soul into a forest full of wanderlust.

Moving along with Earth's rotation as she becomes crystallized into her origin of star dust.


Cemented between inhaling the start of another new season.

And exhaling out gun powder from the war waged against self treason.


Feeling the outline of my fingerprints just to pretend his skin is still touching mine.

And reading the crystal ***** as they fall down my cheeks telling me his heart was never aligned.


I can't choose between the feeling of infinity and ephemerality.

get me out of my head before it all begins to crash.
I can already see the fire on my left arm turning my skin into ash.

the once healed streaks begging to be opened once more.
begging for the admiration of the cold sharp metal they much adore.

get me out of my head before my hands begin to shake.
save me from my vision that scatters in my brain like an earthquake.

full of fear and confusion as to why everything is turning gloom.
wondering why, if all you ever wanted was to be loved and put into a safe, warm room.

get me out of my head before my chest begins to tighten.
I'm choking on my own words, tears and breath only to make me feel less enlightened.

I am scared of myself but I can't find refuge or escape.
A battleground worn out and torn by pierced bullets through a heart shape.

get me out of my head before I tear through my flesh.
gauge out my eyes and tear myself apart because I'm such a vile mess.

let the river of veins flow to the surface with its red colored stream.
watch as my world go dim and into an ever-lasting dream.

get me out of my head before I break down and contemplate my fate
get me out of my head before...
****... it's too late.

You act as if you aren't the root of the statements you deliberately claim.
As if telling me my character is flawed and I am everything to blame.

As if stating that I can not form a sentence without shaking and stuttering is bound to take over my life, crash, and fail.
As if hypocritically saying that I'll end up pregnant with an abusive boyfriend flipping burgers to make ends meet is how my life will sail.

Granted that I'm not even able to make anyone stay with me.
A torment of words in the prison of my home, I feel I'll never be free.  

Let me tell you something, ******.
I was doing much better until you came into my life, stole my mother's heart and ****** her.

Grabbed my hair in the intention to afflict pain and make me cry
Threw us in a cardboard box and you demanded we don't question why.

Moved us into a house for the reason being you wanted to be closer to your workplace.
No consideration of us, you just expected us to put a smile on our face.

Stole the only memories, childhood, and friends I have ever made.
Left in this empty home with my sad thoughts and the pill cabinet to raid.

Only my razor blades and the silence and my head spinning in a whirl.
You talk so high and mighty for a 40 something year old always picking on a melancholic teenage girl.

Like your ***** of a mother, like a ***** of a son.
You can't even handle the consequences when your deed has been done.

You do what your mother does, and take what I hate and use it to hurt me.
It is me that I hate, and you know how much it stings more than a bee.

Brainwashed my mother to be a replica of you.
It's so sad when I see my own mom break my heart in two.

Always said that she'll protect us first.
Until you came along and made that ideation of hers burst.

The inequality of your ethics is completely noticeable.
I'm not a ******* animal, I'm a person you caged in a bubble.

You wonder why I'm the way I am: so emotional, so sad, so problematic.
Even though I'm far from the stereotypical high school teenager statistics.

As much as you've claimed you have done so much good for this family,
You've also broken me too many times for me to count, the irreversible cracks in my brain and heart's anatomy.

You need to stop attacking my very presence.
As much as I hate myself, I'm also my own essence.

Let me get better without tearing me down.
Grow the **** up and stop making yourself look like an immature clown.

I know you'll never see this or even try to listen.
Just know everything comes back around, but until then,

I hope you realize your words are damaging to my very soul.
I hope you fix your **** and bury your insensitivity 6 feet down a hole.

Today is his birthday,
But I don't know what to say.

Other than the ordinary "happy birthday" that everyone else is going to say to him.
I can't help but think about last year when I opened my body to him as a gift on a whim.

With fiery eyes and my legs spread apart, mirroring my heart, as he nervously took my gift of unision.
Now that I think about it, it was stupid really, I should have gave him a cake for him to dig in.

But instead he quietly persisted and I let myself succumb.
I didn't think that the next year, I would feel so numb.

I want to give him the gift of my love but it's something lost in the fog in the distance of empty roads.
A garden once blooming, crushed by the cement he paved before I had implode.

It's selfish of me to make this all about myself.
It's just so hard to see all of his things on my art shelf.

I want to tell him I love him and I'm glad he stuck around for another year of his life.
As he whispers that he's so happy he met me and he wants me as his wife.

He's 20 now, but acts like a middleschooler.
Always playing games with the girl in the schoolyard, the hopless romantic middle school loser.

I always let myself fall this deep down.
My knees are so ****** and bruised and the skin of my palms are unbound.

I didn't think that I'd have to walk alone once again.
Afterall, he made the decision to let our love blast into oblivion.

I want to tell him I love and miss him and wish he can say those love-filled words to me once again.
But it isn't my birthday, so he's blowing out the candles, wishing he'll grow into a different man.

A foolish little boy, so careless with the loser's heart.
You don't realize how much you'll miss them until your heart tears apart.

I want to tell him so much more on his special day,
But my heart's voice is sewn together with thread, and all I can muster is a
"Happy Birthday."

sometimes i need to remind myself that im not the only flower in your garden when your tears is pouring out like a watercan.
and sometimes i need to remind myself to plant some seeds in my own empty garden that i drowned during the hurricane.
i come to realize that im bad at picking seeds that can endure the cold winter season.
and you are better off without me, and only with the flowers you have by the million.

love.
bullying.
heartbreak.
tragedy.
existence.
preference.
color­.
belief.
exhaustion.
insanity.
pain.
sadness.
illness.
worthiness.
stress.

all of these words tied together in one single, blood red soaked string.
even if we wanted to, we can't stop thinking about the past, present, and future.
we contemplate our lives as if the knife will deliver our freedom with wings.
but what we know without our power to **** ourselves, we are clearly unsure.

you see, many people have this stigma that killing ourselves is a selfish way to go.
that they believe we just need to "go for a walk" or "smile and don't be negative" as if it was our choice to become who we are.
many people believe we are just putting our masks, as if our illness was the stage and we were the characters putting on an overreacted show.
question is: don't you think we all would have done that if it was so easy to be happy and go far?

we put guns to our heads,
ropes around our necks,
slits on our wrists,
bags over our heads,
cement blocks on our legs,
pills down our throats,
and sidewalks crushing our fragile bodies,

because we are ******* tired.

we feel like we have no other choice of escape because, believe me, we have tried to protest against our sin.
our cries for help are seen as attention or fake until our bodies are found hung like limp and colorless ornaments on a burnt Christmas tree.
only in the dire times of our ends are we finally noticed and we fight, and fight until we begin to realize that it's the same vicious cycle of hell that we are thrown in.
our bodies being weathered and crushed and grounded into fine ashes that are later then caressed by the air as the preacher sets them free.

We feel so alone through the fights that are proclaimed to others that they will be there yet they vanish like cruel, cold-hearted magicians.
We are the rabbits in the dark pitiless top hat alone to swallow knives for everyone's entertainment as they stare fascinated yet afraid.
No one wants to help a helpless person for fear that their problems only result in a lack of cognition.
The responsibility of contemplated lives rest in the hands of those who want help, but at the end leave after all the hopes they said.
-
...I wish you can see my eyes when they're swollen red with droplets of dull crystals roll down the cheeks I so badly damaged with scratches as a fit of rage on Sunday.
But alas, I'm invisible to the naked eye like a ghost, am I the proof that paranormal entities exist?
I wish you can see my struggle as I attempt to break away.
From all the pain residing in my head that makes me think like a pessimist.
But, please, open your eyelids and expose your mind to the dark places we are living in even if it will take sometime for your eyes to get adjusted.
Uncover our eyes and wipe our tears and check our skin for cuts and scars.
We will refuse and say we're okay for the betterment of everyone else's situation.
But don't give up, for we know truthfully we have wandered into this dreadful, dark, and confusing brain maze pretty far.

We wan't to stop crying and hurting and feeling like our lives don't matter because we see ourselves as unwatered, wilted flowers given to a single mother of 3 kids whose father couldn't spare a little bit of sunshine to fill our stomachs.
Truthfully, we don't want to die, we want to find happiness and peace within ourselves to stay alive.
We want to be saved, we want to be helped, we want to be heard, and we don't want to further plummet.
So please, if you cared enough to read this poem for the betterment of our mental health, provide us the help and care, and call 1-800-273-8255.

funny how
people turn into smokes in mirrors,
when words
of melancholic tones are merely uttered.

"It is all in your head"
Yes, my illnesses resides in my head.
Out of all illnesses that can happen anywhere in my body,
My brain is the paper that soaks up all this poisonous black ink.

Yes, it is in my head. But just like any illness, I wish for it to go away.
I do not wish for more pain, more fear, more mellow feelings.
Yet, it sticks to my body like a fly in a cobweb, struggling to get out until finally it succumbs to its demise.
It's a fight against time and a battle caged inside my skull.
I can hear the banging, the screaming, the explosions.
And they're all directed at me.

Yes, it is all in my head. The constant fighting that leaves me so worn out, I can barely open my eyes to a pastel colored sky as the sun wakes from her slumber.
Skipping breakfast because it just doesn't seem appetizing, as I feel myself weathering into nothing but bones and skin.
Avoiding social interaction because I'll open my heart as if it was an invitation to make those feel welcome in the home that is my arms, fearing that they'll tear out the wallpaper and hammer out the walls.
Staying in my four wall cage that is my lonesome room because I have no motivation to do anything else but to cry and sleep and contemplate my life choices.
Running my fingers through dried red lines carved into my skin, fascinated at such a gruesome work of art made by yours truly.

Yes, it is all in my head. A constant battle waged against me that I fear I will never win. All I ever have is time, time to heal or a time to never feel.

Yes, it is all in my head. I am sick and in pain. I am afraid that the blood flowing in me will soon come to a sudden stop.
I need you to believe that what is in my head will continue to spread until I am no longer.
I need you to believe in me when I say I need help.

Today, I held my mother's hand and cried.

Knowing the next time she might hold my hand, it would be cold and attached to a lifeless body.

She could not see my tears, for her back was turned away, her fragile body motionless as she grips my hand softly.

I traced her rough, wrinkled, worn out fingers and closed my eyes.

I'm sorry, Mom, for self infliction is the way I'll die.

I was never a bad kid.
I was always the goody two shoes.

Until the day I foolishly fell in love with you like I did.
And your fingerprints became my favorite tattoos.

Imprints all over my body I so gladly let it cover me like silk satin blankets.
We sneaked into places, locking doors with our special keys, revealing our skins like dark and ***** secrets we whisper in the night.

constantly letting the thrill of getting caught by our parents as we giggle late into the sea of stars, twinkling with every "I love you" we would say to each other every 5 minutes.
Even going to the extent of sneaking around confessing to each other about everything under the reflection of the moonlight.

Loving you made me feel so alive, so secure, so dangerous, so amazing, I began to see you in my future as if I suddenly got the chance to see through a crystal ball.
I began to plan where I would be and how much I would need, I even began to think of running away.

You don't realize how much it destroyed me when you said you couldn't do it anymore. I could feel myself spiraling back down in a lonely fall.
And now, here I am, covered in your fingerprint tattoos, and the thoughts of running away just to **** myself without a say.

I look in the mirror, revealing myself, wanting to rip my skin until I see a skeleton.
I lock myself in my room for fear that I'll break down in the places we snuck ourselves into.

Knowing you know all of my secrets too.
I used to be a goody two shoes.

And here I am, sitting on the mattress that started and broke this love,
Wishing I could smoke my lungs to charred black, filling my stomach with hard alcohol, drag the cold sharp metal across my entire body, and lay as I start the beginning of the end,
Only this time, it isn't you and I,

It's just me.

whatever you do,

please don't leave me alone on this day in which i mourn
over the death of my heart and my soul

please hide away all the knives,
cut your vegetables with a spoon or something.

dont leave me alone in this house,
i'll be sure to make company with my demons.

flush down the pills,
dont let me find the key to the medicine cabinet.

make sure to call or message me,
i cant stand being alone today.

dont shave your body today with those razors,
i'll be tempted to turn my skin into paper snowflakes.

please dont let me lock myself in my room,
i'll take the opportunity to meet my doom.

please dont leave me alone to cry in my closet alone,
i'll be sure to make my arms drip the sadness out.

and for ****'s sake,
please dont pass this off as just another overreacted poem.

i need you to be with me on the 11th, and make sure i'll make it until the 12th.

i need help. i cant breathe today. i dont want to be alive today. please dont leave me alone today.

I have gotten so used to the vastness of dark spaces,

I began to believe they are my friends.

is there anything else to console my soul,

numbing the pain until the next break of day?

sleepless nights of an insomniac,

a dull pain in the stomach of an anorexic

my body caged me as its prisoner,

and I will not be free until I succumb to things sinister.

Happy Birthday to you.
Wow, I thought you would be dead by now.
I would have thought the demons got to you to.
I have to ask out of genuine curiosity; how?

How did you make it out?
It was an eventful year, it caused such a commotion.
Last time I saw you, you were crying with blood running down your arms from that night's bout.
I smiled as I saw you bow down to the self inflicted corruption.

Were you too scared to go even more deep?
I tried to settle into your skin and bones.
I thought the numbness would have seeped.
Silly, you should have welcomed me home!

I brought a glass vase just for you!
A little house warming gift as it's called.
Did you shatter and cut yourself with those pieces to?
I'm sure your crazed, clumsy little head made it topple and fall.

I knew it would come into use.
Though, I think I should be taking all the credit.
Of course, it was you who tortured yourself with such abuse.
Nevertheless, you turned my whispers into actions, and actually did it.

You were such a fool, you know.
How long did they keep you in that white jacket?
You had everything going for your life and you let that blow.
Remember when your wrists had a red stained blanket?

And who could forget your half-assed attempt to making your exit, what a show!
I honestly don't know what you were afraid of.
You could have just went through with it, you had the power to, you know.
I knew I should have gave you that much needed shove.

The chair was the only thing holding you back.
Your suicide note written by yours truly.
Your will to die was the only thing you lacked.
And you have failed, so I had to become your bully.

Unbelievably, you made it through another year.
I'm honestly shocked, but I will come back stronger.
I'll **** you little by little, until you are dead, my dear.
But please, don't worry, it won't be much longer.

Enjoy this triumphant day, it'll be the last before I come for your heart.
Until then,
With death shall we impart.

Sincerely, your old friend.

PS, don't forget to blow your candles and make a wish.
Let your soul whisper its impose.
And please don't stop flattering the Reaper for a kiss.
He truly loves those.

I truly despise
This cruel disguise
placed upon me

In circles, I run
from evil I have done
But I am not free.

I am terrified
of this roller coaster ride
going faster until it suffocates me

My depression and anxiety
my never ending insanity
this will all be the death of me

I want to be alive
But I am deprived
of oxygen and sleep

How do I go about this
turning these scars into bliss?
The end times is all I see

I cannot choose
I'm always bound to lose
And a loner I will always be

I cant see any escapes from this
and only Death can put me to ease with his kiss
Someone, anyone, please, help me...

let me love, let me crave.
let your light lead the way.

give me sorrow, give me pain.
strike my thunder, pour down rain.

make me rage, make me cry.
bleed on page, fantasize the sky.

make me weak, make me shake.
help me seek, let me break.

make me hurt, watch me die.
this was the ripple effect of your goodbye.

I'm a revolving door.
pushed around and stepped on until I'm dizzy and sore.

Used only for your own benefit.
And then you say words that make me feel like ****.

for those who are concerned; I dispersed within the vastness of outer space.

My body, once caged all the stars, are finally in its resting place.

Maybe here, I am finally seen by those who romanticize the deathly night.

I am at a tranquil state, where all the planets are aligned just right.

No deaths, no violence, no wars, no fights.

No existential pain or crisis to plague a human's state of mind.

I am bound within the molecules of space and time, dancing on asteroids, I am entwined.

Finally, my body is free from the darkest of pains that had wallowed in my rib cage.

All the bottled emotions that had forever kept me enraged.

I have exploded into a beautiful mess, now the size of silica.

I am in motion, twinkling for those bellow in such a sorrowful world, as they paint me in Starry Night replicas.

They'll be envious to hear that I am conversing with Van Gogh himself.

We are in the cloudless night, a painting in a museum, and history within books on a bookshelf.

We're sprinkled in the dark like a beautiful combustion.

All the answers written in the stars for what we once questioned.

He tells me "be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high."

And that was enough for me to just get by.

I am a galaxy, freed in the vastness of the universe.

Into this new life of neighboring planets and meteors, my body will immerse.

I am the stars you see on your lonely nights.

And this time, please take your time to analyze my light.

I know I'm a mess, but I can make it beautiful.

For what it's worth, I once took the form of a dying artist, whom was so mutable.

A warm heart that once beat,
Is cold as ice from tragedy, sorrow, and defeat.

"It's over, I cant do this anymore. It's better for the both of us."

I heard those words and I feel my body being crushed and shattered by the tires of a bus.

I know you couldn't see it, but I visioned the world being hit by a meteor.

My world, to be exact, and I begin to transform into delicate paper, and you, a sharp scissor.

And we all know that scissors beat paper. I just didn't think it would be this soon.

Because in my eyes, I was the atrocious sun, and you were the beautiful moon.

A tragedy, I must say.

I mean, I guess no one really expects this type of love to go away.

I mean, hell, even I didn't want to believe it.

Because you began to cry and I had to offer you my solace and comfort.

I had to choke back my razor sharp tears.

And protect you from all of your fears.

Just like I always have tried to love you for your heart.

But it only seemed that my love wasn't your preference of art.

To this day, I regret comforting and letting you cry as I sit on my bed staring at my laptop screen trying to calm you down.

And you were so selfish to not see that I kept you afloat while I started to drown.

And I just want to say that I ******* hate you but I still love you so ******* much.

And I want you to feel pain but I also want to love you again, but just enough.

I had hoped you would give me a second chance.

But oh, with those sweet, hope filled words, you had me in a trance.

Until I realized that it wasn't going to happen, oh not at all.

And my friends became a razor and the edge of a building, 40 stories tall.

When did my love notes turn into suicide notes?

When did my perfume become an ocean of sunken boats?

And, oh, how long did you keep this love facade on me?

One, two months, maybe even three?

What was it that had made you leave instead of stay?

Because you said it were the fights that made you go away.

But honestly, I think that's *******, because if you were so mature like you claimed to be,

You would have sat me down and talked it out, but instead you closed the door behind you and locked it with a key.

And oh **** no, don't you dare tell me that I shouldn't have gotten so attached.

Because you encouraged our plans for our future together to leave our horrible past.

You told me you loved me and swooned me with such diction.

But then again, you led me on for a couple of months, so how can I know that wasn't fiction?

I just don't know what to think of that night.

It was a signed waiver for my death, timed just right.

I'm just kidding, ***. You only added onto my stress of tests and the end of school.

And you sure did your job at making me your fool.

And today, I still cant breathe when I think about you creating future plans with someone else.

As I stand here fumbling the ceiling so that I can hang this death providing belt.

I hope you got what you wanted, the happiness of being alone.

But I hope you know, when you come back home, I'll be dead on the floor, a person whose heart you once owned.

Just like it's always been for people like me.

But I know you can't see all of this because your tears made your vision blurry.

But I ******* hope you see that you completely shattered and broke me and I had to be ******* strong because I had hoped if I did I can prove to you that this can all be fixed,

But...

Now I'm trying to to go about this alone and refrain from getting my emotions and sicknesses mixed.

I hope you feel happy that you killed the person who loved you so dearly...

And even through all this mess, still I will be dumb enough to take you back into my arms if you ever wanted to, but that's just my theory.

And I reminisce our memories and your gifts and force them into a box.

But I much rather be in one 6 feet down the earth, because I'll only perceive myself as an orthodox.

A contradictory, a mess, someone who can be replaced.

As I stand my ground and move on from you at such a slow pace.

I'll do something stupid, like fall in love with you and stuff

Until one day you realize that it wont be enough

I wont be enough for you.

And I will cry and tear apart my room.

And the dark days will begin to loom.

And I will begin to lose myself in this mentality to.

In April, the cherry blossoms bloom.

And so will my impending doom.

It's 4AM, I'm crying, and all I can think about is you.

I still ******* love you, but there's nothing I can do.

during these nights, I realize how terribly lonely I truly am.

I'm just so easily replaceable, no one gives a ****.

It hurts so much to feel so worthless.

and I get so used to the point where I'm worn out and useless.

I guess that's the point in which everyone begins to leave.

They're doing this for the better, but it's not what I perceive.

And in these nights I just want to ******* cry.

Because I know no one would shed a tear if tonight I die.

I'm only needed for the benefits of these poor souls.

But where am I in this place besides a 6 foot hole?

I hate how you would give me painted masks for me to wear as a gift of your love.

How you said that if I wore them I would show you love that only comes from above.

How you said it was for the better but at the end it wasn't enough for you to stay.

And slowly and surely you began to fade away.

You said I had to change, and baby, if it was for you, I would.

Always for you my love, I thought to myself, I should.

And I began to mold myself into fitting your criteria.

But I guess that led to our demise and my hysteria.

And I began to think when I'm left all alone.

If it was me or you that burned down our sacred home.

And I try to take off the masks that has melted onto my face.

And then I realized your masks were never replaced.

And, god, I felt so ******* dumb for letting you do this to me.

But it's okay, because i still love you, can't you see?

And slowly I'm chipping away your painted masks.

But it's so hard to move when you've been drowning in the bottom of a flask.

But I'm sure you don't understand, besides, your mask was easily ridden.

And we become a love that is painfully forbidden.

It was always for you, my love, but never for me, and so...

I hope you know that I still love you, and you easily let that go.

Do you know that feeling?
When you feel your skin peeling?

Where your brain becomes uncovered
Revealing all the pain you tried to recover

And, oh god, you see everything becoming darker
And you plead for escape, but it's getting so much harder

To breathe.
And you begin to heave.

Oh god, they're closing in
And you think to yourself you cant relive this again

But they show no mercy
And they shower your eyes in shadows until everything becomes blurry

It's so dark and scary to be left like this alone
But everyone else always tells you to go into your happy home

But what they don't know is that house burned down
And they can't understand why you never make a sound

You know you're in pain and suicidally crazed
So why do you let everything become a haze?

I don't know honestly, I just bottle it in
And all I ever have is a paper and black pen.

I begin to remember the words you said.
How you said you stopped loving me and you wish you were dead.

I had to abide by the rules you placed,
But all I wish is for my existence to be erased.

my heart drowns in the sorrow you created.
with pieces of my mind you use for your entertainment.