It'll be two years soon.
Two years,
Five psychiatric medications,
Six relapses,
20 pounds lost and gained,
And lost again,
And one suicide attempt.

And now I'm here,
Still trying to wash your fingerprints
Off of my bruised skin.
Trying to forget your voice
And the feeling of your grip
On my wrists and throat.

Two years later
And I still can't bring myself
To say the word out loud.
The R word.
Two years later and I still
Tell myself
"You idiot, you should have known."

Two years later
And every time I pass your house
On the way to see my psychiatrist
I have half a mind
To burn it to the ground.
To throw rocks in your windows.
To slash the tires
On your red jeep.

Maybe by next year
I'll stop seeing you in my dreams.
I'll stop feeling your hands
All over me.
I'll stop hearing
Your voice breaking through tears
Telling me you love me.

Maybe by next year
The scars from when
I locked myself in your bathroom
And tore myself apart
Will fade completely.
Maybe by next year
I'll actually be able
To say the word "****".

I'm not sure of anything,
Accept for the fact
That I need to get out of here
Before my mind snaps.

I'm questioning the way
I move and breathe and blink.
Is this okay?
What will you think?

I need to go home.
I need to take cover.
I need to find a strong roof
To hide for a while under.

But I have no home
Except for the one
In your arms.
The house I live in
Always feels dark.

I'm worried that I'll get lost
In the emptiness of
That big, lonely house.
I'll be trapped by the cold
With no way to get out.

So how will my mind
Decide to pass the time?
How will I stay sane
With so much room
To let my stupid thoughts loose?

I don't want to paint
I don't want to sing
I don't want to read
I don't want to write
What the hell will I do
With so much time?

I'll sleep for as long as I can
To avoid the inevitable
Toil in my lonely brain

I'm exhausted.
So ******* tired.
I wake up and feel
Hardly rested because
I spent all night
Pulling my teeth out
And bleeding from my mouth.

This ridiculous dream
Visits me so frequently,
Yet it never fails
To convince me of its reality.
It's impossible to speak
With bones knocked loose,
Making it hard to breathe.

I feel so stuck in my brain
All the time.  
My life is not
My interaction with the world.
My life is my interaction
With my own mind.

My life is in
My thoughts and
Inner diologue,
Not in the way
I fit into the
Universal machine.

It goes on
And on without me.
I was part of the machine
For only a minute and
Once again I feel myself
Beginning to float
Into the distance.

I'm clinging to everything
On Earth I can find
Meaning in.
I'm holding onto
Love and fear
To try to keep
Myself on the ground.

Hold onto me
So I can feel some
Small security.
How can I be
So sensitive and
Struggle to feel
What's all around me?

Maybe I'll lay in the rain
And let it soak
Into my bones.
I'll be drenched in rain
When the wind blows in
And I become frozen
In the cold.

Then I'll set myself
On fire,
And maybe that's extreme,
But I'm desperate for relief,
To find what I need,
To feel human again.

Gone
gone
Gone

They're all
So far away now.
If only I could reach
Into the dark
That took you
And pull you back
From wherever you went.

Is it really better
Over there?
Show me what
I've been missing
And maybe God will let us
Trade places.

Do you regret what you did?
Would you take it all back
If I told you that
I'd bear the weight
Of your quick decisions for you?
Would you let me
**** myself
If it meant being
In your mothers arms again?

Light of my life,
The slings and arrows
Of outrageous fortune
Bloom a rose
In the deeps of my heart.

And so I came forth
But could not behold the stars.
The slings and arrows,
They trespassed upon my thoughts.

And I cried that I came
To this great stage of fools,
But it echoed loudly within me
Because I am hollow at the core.

That outward existence which conforms,
This inward life which questions
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece of.  

I don't exactly know
What I mean by that,
But I mean it.

how do i look at myself
and say
"this is okay.
the way you feel,
the way you think,
is okay."

how do i stop
telling myself
that i've always been
and will always be
too much?

can i change the way
i feel about myself
without changing
who i am?

can i learn
to appreciate my bleeding heart
and overzealous mind?

god
please tell me
that this is how you made me
and that how i am
is okay to be.

god
touch my heart
and heal my eyes
so that i am at peace
with all the things
i can't stand to be.

how do i stop
wishing that everything
about me was different?