It doesn't bother me that,
my parents are abusive.

It doesn't bother me that,
my poetry goes unnoticed.

It doesn't bother me that,
my friends think I'm psychotic.

It doesn't bother me that,
I'm the worst of both batches,
maternal and paternal.

It doesn't bother me that,
I have nothing left.

But the trees and the sky,
keep me alive long enough,
to get a perspective.

The pines whisper that in a few months,
I'll be released from their tyrant grasp.

The birds murmur that my poems,
are the best ******* words they can't understand.

And even the clouds,
grab me by my shoulders,
and thunder in my face,
that I have so much left to learn.

She says,
With fresh coat of plum ,
Across her large lips,
That she's finally finished,
Giving up her pride for the sake,
Of a 3-minute fling.

She says that the only time,
She feels truly complete,
Is when he's inside her.

She says she can't be comfortable,
In her own skin,
With anyone but him.

But she can't see that,
He's destroying her,
From the inside out.

She can't see that each time,
She opens her beautiful green eyes,
I can't see her anymore,
But only her sadness.

I think to myself,
Maybe if I teach her braille,
Then maybe she can finally,
Read what the scars on her wrists really say.

Having a night alone is exciting,
Emptying the wine rack myself,
Lying under the bath water,
Predicting my future in breaths.

My head is at ease,
Everything is finally alright.

I know you don't love me anymore,
And that I shouldn't care what you think,
And I say I don't love you either,
But I don't know what I think.

It ***** I became a drug dealer,
At least the money's fine,
It makes me feel like the worlds ****,
I've felt this all the time.

I feel my hands shaking,
Every time I open my eyes,
I guess I'll just keep waiting,
Waiting on these cotton candy skies.

There I am,
Staring at the snowy television,
Thinking about what was said.

I met a girl in my dreams,
Her name was Clyda,
and she stood under the cotton candy skies,
and told me that I mattered.

She gave me a cigarette,
which even in my dreams,
I can't stay away from,
and pointed at the caps on the
mountains that framed the horizon.

I'm really not that sad,
nothing's happened to me,
to make me feel this way.

But I guess the worst type of war,
is the one that creates terror,
on it's own frontlines.

Today would've been one year.

I put on my darkest lipstick,
and my black stockings,
and went to that pretentious
coffee shop in the next town over.

I told that curious man,
that my name was Jane,
and I was fresh out of college,
looking for life.

My smoothie tasted like pennies,
but cost me five dollars,
and it reminded me of you,
because you were ****** too.

I told myself I would be adventurous,
and started to drive to a beach,
even though it's January,
and I hate the water.

I yearn to find life,
but I guess I only check the places,
where I've already been,
and find disappointment instead.

Crush it up,
Roll a dollar,
Breath it in,
See things.

The oriental rug is swirling,
my head follows it,
the pattern is spinning,
so is my brain.

Jimi is talking to me,
his mouth is moving from the wall,
I swear I could hear him,
I swore he said something...

Crush another,
Find the dollar,
Stop falling,
Smell the powder.

The paintings are dancing,
the black light brings them out,
I can't see straight now,
But I know I feel alright.