i find myself
     sitting curled in a fetal position
rocking slightly back
                                 and forth
      with my head
in my hands
           palms pressed into my eyes
                       squashing tears back
                         keeping thoughts in
it's involuntary
i can't help it

i love how sweet you are to me
   i hate that the rest of the world doesn't see
                     the kind,
                           caring,
                           forgiving,
                           loving,
                           amazing person you are
you disguise yourself
         hide it behind insanity,
                                   hate,
                                   loathing,
but i love that the only thing
            you don't hide
        is how much you love me

my head throbs
and the vivid dreams
as a side effect of my
medication makes me so tired.
I dream that I'm
laying or siting in bed
at night and I can't sleep
so every morning
I wake up and wonder
did I get any sleep at all last night?
and all I want is the throbbing to stop
and to be able to do the things I know
I can do but I just can't at the time
this makes me so so so angry
that I lay in bed thinking
about how I am going no where
and all this is
is the endless tourture
of depression
                                          *(i wish i was more scared to die, than i am to live and fail)

when others make it for you
by pushing you down far
enough, to force your choice
to **** yourself

*bullies? family? no one?

remembering something
you learn an age ago
do you just
     have to close your eyes
and wait
        wait for your fingers
              to hit the right keys
in perfect synchrony
   and let the music flow
                    do you just wait
and the chords animate
            is this how love works?
       the long forgotten keys
are hidden in depths
                                  just waiting
for you to close your eyes
                  and let it fly

wake up.
roll over; closer to you
cuddle until we either,
              fall back asleep
              get hungry enough to rise
              or have somewhere to be
              - we've somewhere to be today -
a quick kiss
before climbing out of bed
you flick the kettle on
as i go to the bathroom.
i put toast in for both of us
while you use the bathroom.
          we sit down at the table
          at the same time
to drink our coffee
           eat our toast
you turn your favorite music on
        when/if our song comes on
                  i pull you up to dance
before we begin washing dishes
all the while dancing crazily
      you pull me in for a kiss
                 i squeak surprised
before holding you closer
we kiss for longer than expected
                     we'll be late for class
i pass you your pants
in exchange for my shirt.
fully dressed,
we walk out the door
       hands held firmly
ready for another day
together

the same as wanting to die?

is being famous
       all its cracked up to be?

lately
                  i think not

/

but the glorious feeling
          of having
                       no sustainable thoughts
                                    is amazing
everything
                                                             flitters
                          around

pay no attention to the
emotions you were feeling
        white fuzz
cloud
                             covers them with a veil
                nothing matters

when your body spasms
           you force back screams
the pain is inside
smashing your hand
          into your head
to make thoughts stop
to focus the pain
somewhere else
               clawing at skin
trying to stop that pain
                   internal pain
                       that echoes your head
          and radiates down your spine
     its an addiction
    to change internal pain
into external
                             so i can sleep at night
                                       dream (nightmare) free

mothers know when their children
       are in pain
                   or if something is wrong
     even something significant
if that
             is so true
                                            why

           ­          don't you hear, or know
                                     that i cry every. night.
                     that i'm not sleeping well
       that i feel too sick to eat
               that i'm hurting all the time
                                   that i don't want to move from bed
                that i've acquired new scars
                                            that i'm in love

                                         why don't you know?
         or
                            do you know, and not care?

                                  its said that
                          mothers know when their
                                                children are in pain
                     or if something has changed
                                                 significant or not

.... do you know?

i'm more ****** up than I thought
this ******* urge to cut won't leave me
alone, I'm lying in bed shuddering
twitching and spasming  
night one, and I know
I'm not strong enough
to last, it hurts

i'm still alive
and it has almost
                       passed a month
            of my living
without you living
           i don't know
how i'm going to be
                                                 will i be asleep
                                                 when the time ticks over?
                                                 will i be dreaming of you?
                               or maybe
                               i'll be awake
helping your kin
the twin you left
               he's struggling too
                           and i worry
for us.

not good

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foaih8 eho               dOIHD DOINX NOS9OIESP
                                ifm'pefjo iaAR GF
                                                         dwap9r          oiHDOId nfslif oifhw  ooif
                a pfou esvjaH NFGIO
IFUAH ODIO D DHIAOA                AOIDHA oihdda  IOH oif



                                                                                                                                                i exist
unfortunately?

real councillors
explaining
over used
explanations
to people who
understand more
than people
believe

dark corners
with mysterious
invisible eyes
visible to those
unlucky enough
to see them
with eyelids
shut

light traces
musings
and patterns
lacing bodies
with streaks
of red
and stains
of pain

toilet bowls
lent over
by overbearing
undernourished
starved and
underweighted
figures
of bones

shaking hands
firmly planted
against brick
walls
cracked bruises
harshly noticeable
and starkly
stiffening

dried tears
only means
they were
wet once