Toss them into the pit!

That babbling **** who twitches
on the side of the local gas station,
who talks
as if he had company!

The girl with obvious scars
across her thighs and arms,
it's her fault for not seeking help;
she does this to herself!

Freak! who writes poetry
and speaks with words
that force me to pick up
effort and a dictionary!

*****! he is not a man, not even to his
lover, he makes her feel respected and
on equal plane! he even fights
for gay rights, for the animals near-extinct!

Let the helpless and the helpful,
the hopeless and the hopeful
suffer, not by
each other,
but
by
themselves.

And we, with years of
practice, of
earned
ignorance
can enjoy the scene
from the tops of
our immoral high horses.

Who could have known that when we saw last would be your last? Who could have known that some sunny days can't last forever now?

So tell me just what were we thinking? So indestructible as this. Without definition. Like puppets on a string held up for what?

So I sing a song of mourning. Morning comes, morning comes. And I think I still see a smile. You're never gone.

And I know that these things will never be the same. And I know that I'll never see you at the games. I'll see you at the gates.

Sing for the living; don't mourn for the dead.

We don't know where we went wrong but we keep pushing on and on and on.

It dawns on me sometimes when we talk
I hear, the noise turns white merging with the bird song
I listen, order in chaos a pattern emerges
I know, magma tears a way to the surface
I understand, creating form where there was none
I yearn, whats past, whats next
You give me conscience
Substance and Meaning

It's haunting that she stands there with that look on her face. It reminds me of the last time you'd stood in that place.

It's haunting that we drive through the darkest parts of town. Like you and I used to when you were still around.

I find the tears in your eyes just a little bit daunting. Don't get me wrong. You know nothing can stop me. I know my words seem harsh but my eyes speak softly. Come on dear, don't you want to come haunt me?

It's haunting that she stands and she's frozen in place. It reminds me of you faking that smile on your face.

It's haunting that we drive through every traffic light. Like you and I used to when you were still alive

we are nothing but lights
dancing through an illuminated night.

tangled feet beneath our legs
we spin and crash in different ways.

our laughs echo through invisible walls
chasing us down abandoned halls.

youth behind us and death in our eyes
I always imagined a different way to die.

You know:

I started reading about self harm.

And I found that it was the only thing that broke my heart- my scarred and bruised heart was finally broken.

My heart swelled and gushed and broke for you.

And all those gashes.

How the skin swelled. Blood gushed.

How you broke.

And especially how you would lie. And say you're fine. Until your depression forced the truth from your lips.

And I remember all those bracelets. All those things to hide your wrists. And how twloha was seemingly permanently engrained on your arms.

And I remember thanking god that it wasn't from a blade dug into your skin. And how it was funny and ironic because I didn't believe in him then.

But I kept your secret for all these years. And I hope you're doing better.

I pray that you are.

And if you aren't..?
    Well, I guess you'd never tell me.

Not anymore.


And you see:

That's why I'm bitter. Why I'm angry. Why I'm hurt.

Just tell me honestly that you're fine and don't you dare tell me a lie.

Cause I was there.

And I remember.

And I still think about it all the time.


And believe me when I say that it has consumed me.

It affects the way I write.
And what I say.
And how I meant it.

It's about the only thing I write.

Words like: scars. Wrists. Etched. Carved.

See. I'm a liar if I say I still don't think about you all the time.

I wish I could see you one last time
Not even touch you or talk to you
Just to see you from afar would be enough
Just to see your smile, to hear your laugh
Even if it was because of someone else

There was a time
I felt empty

Life had nothing to offer.
I had nothing left to hold onto.

Nothing bothered me.
Nothing appeased me.
Nothing made me feel.

Actually,
I felt but one thing:
Dead.

I felt dead inside,
a walking corpse.

Lived my days as a routine,
inside and out,
the same thing over
and over
and over
and over again.

I was a robot.
Cold,
unfeeling,
detached.

But then something changed.

Something clicked inside of me,
hit me like a train and left me paralyzed.
I jumped back to reality with no recollection
no memory of what happened to me,
what changed me.

Here I am now.
So far from that moment,
I've come so far.

But my journey is not finished,
I still have battles to face,
enemies to overcome,
fears to conquer though I may not admit them.

And I will continue on.