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 Jun 2017 Mason Jay
Gidgette
I keep my wish list
Upon my wrist
But they don't care for that

I keep my dreams
In makeup creams
They said to try that

They said live a fake life
Be a good little wife
I left, and died my hair black

I walk looking down
In vintage whisky I drown
And I'm ok with that

They said to "fake a smile"
Wear My pain with style
I'm no good at that

I try and cover my wish list
Written in scars upon my wrist
With the dreams, silent screams
Makeup creams
I'm not ok with that....
I miss you all. Please forgive my boldness here. Sometimes, I just have to SCREAM. The only way I know how. Much love to you all.
 May 2017 Mason Jay
Grace Eden
Given: you and me, represented by the variables Y and M. Y is subject to change, and M is a constant. We are equal to the sum of Y and M.

Given: our lips, represented by the variables L sub yours and L sub mine.  Electricity is equal to the sum of L sub y and L sub m. Electricity is equal to euphoria. By the transitive property, the sum of our lips is happiness. Kissing you is happiness.

How much I am attached to you is represented by the variable A. A is equal to the quantity of all the times you make me laugh, plus how many songs are on the playlist you made me, multiplied by how many times I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you in public.

My paranoia that you will leave, represented by P, steadily increases at the same rate as my attachment to you. The volume of the box I isolate myself within is equal to l times w times h. If my anxiety fills my body at the rate of 3 m2/second, how long will it take for me to have an emotional breakdown?

Heartache is equal to the difference of Y and M, and it is represented by H.  H increases when it is multiplied by how many days we spent together, multiplied by how many of my friends approved of you, multiplied by how many of your sweatshirts are still in my bedroom, multiplied by how many “text me when you get home safely”s we sent, multiplied by how many times you called me beautiful.

In conclusion, nostalgia markedly increases H.

H reduces when it is divided by the elapsed time in days since H occurred.  At some point, the total H reaches zero.  A new Y may take its predecessor’s place, and, the algorithm may be used again.  But maybe that’s too much math.  After all, M is a constant.  M is the only thing I need to exist.  After all the relentless calculation, maybe a Y doesn’t belong in the equation after all.
 May 2017 Mason Jay
Mary
Death is upon her, Life is no more;
Take a look at the dents in her door.
Body in ruins, Blood down her wrists
Who ever thought it would end like this,
Pain hugs her, sorrow filled
That's the reason she was killed
Tears in her eyes, sang her last note
She thought it was best to slit her own throat
All the girls I’ve loved
have been blades
that made me bleed poetry.
And darling, you were the sharpest.
Words mumbled.
Thoughts kept secret.
I'm fine.
I'm fine.
I'm fine, I scream
under muffled breath.
Someday
I'll get some sleep,
maybe when I'm dead.
But for now
I'm just stuck
in my own head.
One of my co-workers has scars on her wrists, covered by tattoos that do no good to hide them.
Not if you know what to look for.
I know what to look for.
I wonder her past, the ghosts hiding under the beautiful face, the blonde hair with the pink strips, the smile.
I wonder if she had an abusive upbringing like I did. If, as a teenager, she hid against her door bringing a razor blade to ****** skin until the ghosts bled out.
I know what that's like.
I would never glorify selfharm, never wish upon anyone the hell of feeling the need to release your mental pain in a physical manifestation.
But the relief it gives me to know that I am not the only one hiding scars under tattooed skin and long pants...
The relief is enough to make me hug her at night.
Tell her I'm glad that I work with her.
She is 36, 15 years older than me.
But our souls seek each other out, the broken souls know other broken souls so well.
I am glad she survived her demons.
I'm glad I'm surviving mine.
 May 2017 Mason Jay
Nicole Dawn
By seven I knew I was different

By eight I thought I was weird

By nine I thought I was fat

By ten I thought I was ugly

By eleven I started to hate myself

By twelve I thought I shouldn't exist

By thirteen I wanted to die

By fourteen I began to selfharm

By fifteen I planned my death

By sixteen I was long gone
Honestly this is a little off.... Everything started a bit earlier I suppose and not exactly defined by a single age, but it's close enough
5 years ago

A 13 year old girl awoke
Thinking that everything
Was as it always had been
But still, something didn't feel right

5 years ago

The shock of it all
Numbed the 13 year old girl
She walked around in a daze
Everyday was the same

5 years ago

The flowers piled up
The condolences overwhelmed
The 13 year old girl
Just wanted everything to stop

5 years ago

All the problems started
The selfharm; depression
The 13 year old girl
Turned to thoughts of letting go

5 years ago

On exactly this day
I, a 13 year old girl awoke
But everything was not okay
Nothing felt right

5 years later

An 18 year old girl
Grieves the loss of her mother
A 46 year old woman
Who died suddenly

Exactly 5 years ago
I wrote this yesterday in the memory of my mother, Maria Leslie McKay, 07/11/1963 - 06/08/2009
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