Nothing seems worth it anymore .
Dreaming seems pointless .
Wishing seems senseless .
And living ?
It just seems ridiculous ..
I am hopelessly lost in despair .
In need of just a lil guidance
Yet I'm too far gone to help
And it's far too late to notice.

that I am

stuck ,
In the Land of the Unliving .
Feelings that aren't even feelings .
Thinking things that shouldn't be thoughts .
Remembering things that couldn't be memories .
Everything is
Mixing and mixing
And matching and mixing
And matching and matching
Until it's well passed
Mixed
And everything has been
Matched
And I have been drained .

Something is
missing
and I can't find it .
Whether it's my heart or my head ,
I can't quite confess
or recognize
under the scrutiny
I am under ,

Attack that is .

Each flashback
Rapes my mind
Over and over again .
Each ******
In and out , in and out
Leaves a piece of
'nothing' behind .
Like a dried up grape ,
What makes me ME
has been ****** out of me .
Just call me a raisin ,
I am nothing
but a dried up piece of something
that used to be
a being .

Today I was taking a shower
and my arm started to sting.
That sting.
The sting I didn't even realize I remembered.
Until I did.
And when I did, oh how that made me feel.
Being bombarded with oh so many memories of
escape and freedom
And control.

Today, I was taking a shower
And my arm started to sting.
This familiar sting that I knew all to well
and all I could do was stare at this tiny, tiny cut.
Like a pink line of perfection,
if that makes sense.
It brought with it not only a slight pain that I am all too familiar with.
But, also the memories of watching my blood mix with the water into a pretty pink
Swirl down the drain.

Today, I was taking a shower
and my arm started to sting.
Bringing with it the need to feel that sting
constantly.
Like in the past years.
Needing to have some sense of control.
Needing to feel a pain that I knew better than
my own face.
Needing to slice my arm.
Not into ribbons,
but how about laces?

Today, I was taking a shower
And my arm started to sting.
And that scares me.
The feeling of wanting to grab the sharpest thing I could find
and add my pretty in pink lines
across my mocha skin.
Right along with the older ones.
Not caring who see's them
and not caring about the
Consequences.
Only caring about the release it would provide.
Release and a high.
A high that makes me higher than smoking **** ever could.

Today, I was taking a shower
And my arm,
My arm started to sting.

why must it always end this way ?
the feeling of being unwanted .
unappreciated .
unloved .
by the ones who are supposed to love
the real me
the most .

what do you do when you're thrown into a tidal
wave of emotions ?
a hurricane of thoughts
i feel like a tsunami
has wrecked the last bits
and pieces
of my saneness .
my sanity .
my reason .
trying to hold on
is just so tiring .
especially when it seems as though
no one wants to see you achieve your dreams .
discouragement is such a tiresome feeling .

exhaustion is also a feeling I know all too well .
always on go .
doing what I thought would keep
you at bay
but as always
you can't even say it to me .
hiding behind what you think would protect
you .
like a child .
oh i wonder how that feels ?
to have someone who will fight your battles ,
for you .
instead of being on the opposing team .

i wonder how it feels to have a family .
my supposed "first" team ..
what's supposed to be my "main" support.
my lifelines
so what happens when the ones
you never thought would make you feel
the feeling you always feel the most ,
make you feel those feelings you hate feeling
the most ?

you crumble ,
even more so than before
you collapse and you decay
until you're nothing but
a fine powder that hopefully no one ingests .
pure crazy at it's finest ,
a drug for sure .
but , this one ?
It kills.

you don't talk to me .
you talk at me .
you talk just so you'll have someone who'll listen .
and I always listen to you .
I listen to you
before you listen to me
and you never listen
to me .
It's like
I'm tuned into your channel
and you're tuned into yourself .
every single one of you
only care about yourselves
and it does not make any sense to me .
how can someone constantly pay attention to
you yet ,
you can only see details about yourself ?
selfish ,
rapacious ,
parsimonious .
different word ,
same meaning .
different people ,
same reaction .

how come some of us are destined to be
the ones who care
while others are the ones who get cared for ?
why am I forced to feel like when I'm talking
but not a soul is listening ?
in one ear and out the other
or maybe it goes right over your head ?
is it possible that every word I've spoken
has been ignored because of lack of interest ?
why is it that I'm always the one who fades
into the background ?
I'm the one who starts the story
but never gets to finish .
the one with so much to tell
but no one to tell it to .
the one who just wants to be heard
but has already been muted .

I am
mute .

**** me .
Just end it all .
Use those words you threw like daggers .
and aim for my heart
Finish it all.
Grab a stake
and nail me to the wall .
I’d rather feel nothing at all ,
Than to feel lost .

No one truly appreciates me
Or the stuff I do .
Everything is all about what I can do
for
You and you and you ,
I give and give and give
And everyone just takes .
They take until there’s nothing left ,
Until I’m nothing but left -
overs .
Until I’m nothing but a mere carcass ,
An empty shell of
What used to be
And what I used to be .

What do you want from me ?
Truly .
Each of you want a piece
of something
with substance .
A piece of me split each way .
A different sketch for each of you .
Everyone needs an altered piece of myself to
play with ,
A 'rag doll' as they call it .
To do whatever you please .
A character to play out in your story.
History ,
Her story
Everyone's story
Except mine .
My story ,
When does my story begin ?

sometimes I get tired of playing the role I was
cast in ,
I'm an actor in this tired excuse of a play .
Maybe that is my story .
My tale .
A nightmare is what it is .
A fairytale is what it used to called .
Some fiction mixed a litte truth
because all lies are based from fact .
Maybe all I'm meant to be
is a different flame
in every wildfire .
Meant to fuel your passions
And to inspire your dreams .
There's a different me
For everybody .
Every one of you ****** get
Amity
Or amour .
You get someone who would protect you
From every thorn
of pain in this existence called 'life' .
I'd sacrifice mine ,
to save you twice .
Recognizing your flaws for what they really are ,
Imperfect beauty marks
on the heart .
I care for you how only I can wish
You'd care for me .
And that's my issue .
I see your potential
All your pain , I feel .
Like a sponge , I soak up all your filth .
I polish you .
I always wipe your surface
even though my movements go unnoticed .
Time and time again ,
I'm the one who listens .
Starting but never finishing
like a slept on movie series.
you fall asleep on me before you even
understand me .
Snoozing as I portay
this idea of disarray .
I watch you ignore me
And all while asking ,
"Are you still watching?"

Sometimes I wish I didn't exist.
Who would want to exist in this world anyways?
Living a life of hurt and loneliness
Because no matter what you do, no one will ever stick around to see you make it out of this disastrous and heartless cold world or not.

Oh how I hate the word
'Alone'.
Because that's what I've been feeling lately.
"You aren't alone."
"I'm here for you."
"There are others going through this too."
Yada, yada, yada.
Those are just words that spill like a fallen drink on the kitchen counter.
Emptying its' contents like you would your stomach after hearing that your brother faces up to 25 years for something you wish he didn't do.

Is that too personal for you?
Oh, I can get much more personal.

How about uprooting your life for the second time?
Second time? Second time.
For a parental figure who doesn't even act like you were once in her.
Your heartbeat mixing with hers in this entrancing dance of rhythm.
Picking favorites and avoiding communicating with you because who needs to communicate with her own flesh and blood anyways?
Forcing you to look for tender and warm maternal affection and direction elsewhere because how could she possible show love if she's more lost than you are?

Not personal enough?
I'm just warming up.

I've been so independent for so long.
I never knew I could learn to depend on someone so much.
Again.
But, I did.
And I'm sorry if this starts to slowly turn into one of those lovey dovey yucky yucky poems.
But, I've finally met my match.
Someone who laughs at the same things as me.
Someone who takes care of me and sends me those cute
"Did you eat?"
"Did you make it home?"
"I miss you."
Texts.
Someone who has seen me broken and beaten down and instead of running away at full speed,
He cupped my face with his hands and forced me to look at him,
Through the snot and tears,
And told me
"Do you see me? I will not leave you. I am here."

And that my friends,
Gave me back my will.
My will to live.
My will to survive.
The will I lost so long ago.
The will I never knew I had.
But, don't let that "will" fool you.
I'm still learning how to depend on myself.
I'm still learning how to love my life.
I'm still learning how to want to live.

If that wasn't personal enough for you,
Then nothing ever will be.

and my chest keeps constricting.
tightening.
and my eyes keep watering.
gushing.
and my head keeps hurting.
throbbing.

feels like theres a hand clamped around my heart .
squeezing
and tightening .
tighter and tighter .
until I can’t breathe .
like I’m trapped in my own head ,
nailed to my own
coffin .
almost like I dug the hole ,
so now I have to lay in it .
a bed of nails ,
to be my home for all eternity .
granted my own void .
a black hole filled with nothing but misery .
a place where you’re
married to the mistress of death .
a sneaky snake who slithers into the darkest parts of your mind
then brings them out .
no ‘out of sight out of mind’ ,
it’s always on your mind
all of the time .
it’s anxiety.

I am a home.
I welcome you home.
When you are sad,
to I you come.

Sometimes I wish I would’ve stayed mute.
Which means I wish I didn’t talk
or converse.
I wish words didn’t fall from my lips
like a waterfall of
meaningless nothings.
Falling with swift abandon
and landing recklessly.
I just wish I would’ve stayed mute.
Being mute appears to be made for me.

and to wilt
parallel a flower.
I sag,
I flap
and I flop.
but never flip.
in truth!
I am decaying.
starving
because they starved me
and corrupted my seed.
before i knew it
the fusarium wilt
was my disease.
someone could’ve cured me,
watered me.
but instead of
mollifying
they
mummified
me.
dried me
into crumbs of
leaves.
nothing but dust
that decided to fly away
with the breeze.
to wilt is to wither away into nothing.

and to go faint
as in, to become dull.
that whimsical light is
erratically the same
yet never enough.
it is distorting and
it contorts
my colors.
my ambience is
disrupted
by the Eclipse of-
WAIT.
how can I grow
when no (sun)light is
raining unto my path?
drip
       drip
               drop.
    stay.
witness as I go
from this vibrant color
to a washed out gray.
I stood in the mirror
face-to-face
with the girl who wears my face
and I watched it drain.
with death looming over
her shoulder
and no angel in sight..
to go faint would be to wither and drown in my own cries.

and to rot.
all day, around the clock.
I am that sad flower
hiding in your *** .
unable to be set ablaze
by the radiant light,
called love.
so I sit
and I wait.
I rest my leaves
in defeat.
it seems as though
I might be granted this reprieve.
and the truth is I was murdered
long before I decided to **** me.
I used to be
unseasoned.
I was fresh
untouched by filth.
but now I am
spoiled
with mold
like bread and milk.
so beware of the signs
for this infectious malady,
it might be contagious.
and in truth,
a remedy
could be made for me
or so they tell me.
what they don’t understand
is I already tried.
I tried to comply
and I tried to rest my eyes.
yet the only thing prescribed
are these drugs
with the death of my mind
being the main effect,
on the side.
to rot would be to not only wither away but also to die.

Leave them be and take me.
Why take them away from their family?
Why not take me?
Those affected would be
maybe two or three.
truly.

A Deer In Headlights,
And A Fish Out of Water.

Who knew it would be the silence that would get to me?
Seeping all into my skin
and slithering its way through my veins.
Pulling built up pain along the way
and bringing
Darkness.
A cold blanket that stole my warmth,
Darkness was what I was used to.
Then, he brought the light.

They say silence does something to a person
and it does.
I’ve been drowning in silence for years now
and you know what it looks like?

it’s dark.
almost like a black hole
because it swallows the light,
is never ending
and it burns
deep
deep into your soul.

this silence
is never ending
and it hurts my ears.
and makes me sad.

I remember a time
when this silence
used to be filled with
talking.
But, I also remember a time
when all I knew was silence.
So why does this bother me?
Why does this silence
feel like it’s clawing away
at my heart
and my skin?
I feel like it’s ripping me
into shreds
and I can do nothing but
standby and be
a bystander to my own
massacre.

you
remind me of the
blues.
each different shade
of blue
equals you.
each of your tones
resonates truth.
that is true
and oh so true
the way I feel for you.
tranquil like blue,
a lake of blue.
the way I always feel
around you
almost like a
sky blue.
a blue
that is just
enough blue
to make you
move groovy
like the Blues.
you
make me
feel blue
without being
blue,
like a navy blue.
a blue that has blue
on top of its’ blue.
a blue times blue times blue,
that’s you
and it’s crazy
because
i only feel things
because of you.
together
me and you,
a perfect image
of solitude.
and you are
solid
too.
real is you.
no camouflage
or ruse.
just you.
like you are
one of the deepest blues.
you make me feel deep
like some negative
2’s.
I’d happily dive into you
like an ocean blue.
constantly evolving into
different blues
that’s you
(always you).
you are my Blue
and blue is you.

I hate this feeling .
This feeling of not knowing
This from that
Up from down
Right from left
Happiness from
Anger.
Oh but I know anger .
I know anger better than I know me.
Anger knows me better than my own mother .
Anger conceived me , it birthed me .
It fed me the darkness
and
Clothed me in hate.
When no one else would stay,
Anger was the one who showed me the way.
Even if that way led me into the deepest, darkest hole imaginable.
Death.

Death isn’t the monster it is made out to be .
It isn’t the noise under your bed,
The shadow in your closet,
Or the one who “stole” my sister.
Death is a savior .
A protecter.
A liberator.
Death is a guardian angel
Disguised as the devil .
Oh , how could it be Satan ?
If it releases you from a life of pain
And envelopes you into a hug of shadows ?
Soft and overwhelmingly complete.
Death is the mother I always wanted my own mother to be .

Shattered. Broken. Crushed.
no. please no, not again.
Asphyxiate. Strangle. Smother.
the pain.. please just make it stop. please.
Pierce. Penetrate. Plunge.
why aren't you listening to me? why won't you help me? WHY DON'T YOU CARE?!
Agony. Affliction. Torture.
**** me. just **** me. end it all please.
Silence. Paradise. Sleep.
I'm not afraid of *death. but is death afraid of me?

I’m feeling like giving up.
As I sit and gaze into nothin’
I hear my heart thumpin
through the music that’s crumpin
in my ears.
and I’m wishin
for it to all slow down
and stop.
I’m wishing I could
replace my blood with molasses
and then slit my wrist and watch.
Watch as the life drains from my eyes.
Would you believe me if I told you, that wasn’t a lie?
Not an exaggeration
or a tale?
Of course you wouldn’t
because you aren’t me
you don’t have my mind
or the thoughts that creep in.
and with a mouth
that is permanently disconnected
from my mind,
how will I ever get you
to understand
why I am the way I am?

F
A
L
L
I
N
G
that’s what i feel.
that’s what i’ve always felt.
like i was
falling
O
U
T
of a plane.
free falling , hoping the ground would be my knight in shining armor
and catch me.
i feel like i’ve been knocked off
O
F
my guard. i’m confused.
who are you?
who is “me”?
what are we?
are we in
L
O
V
E**
?
and if so, why does it feel
like this?
like i can’t catch my breath?
like i’m drowning?
like i’m dying?
what is this “love”?
and why does it hurt?

The things we know do not surprise,
Because the things we know we’ve felt.
All the things we’ve saw with our eyes,
Were frozen ice truths about to melt.
But truths can make you go insane
When all you know is sanity.
You start to feel like an unmarked train
Or someone blind, who can not see.
But don’t believe, these are false hopes
Because the things you know are fake.
They confuse you more than you know you know
And breaks you just like an earthquake.
Just know sometimes in life you lose,
Because your battles you cannot pick and choose.