bad things happen
there's no reason
they just do

bad things happen
sometimes there's
nothing in them to learn

bad things happen
stop telling me i'm strong
for surviving how they hurt me

because bad things happen
i used to believe in god
i hate him with my whole heart now

red blossoms
on my wrists
rose scented
rosary beads
cannot protect me
halo light
only exposes
my sins
for god
to feast on
peeling my
festering heart
like a mandarin orange,
sinking his teeth
deep deep deep
into the black core
once there was
something pure there,
once i was clean
but i have been
ruined
i'm never
getting it back
no matter how
many crosses
hang above
my bed
no matter how much
holy water
rests dried
on my head

there is a pair
of angel wings
hanging
on a peg in my closet
dust dulls
their snow brilliance
but they are there
as a reminder

i can peel back the sky
and fly away
if i can't take it here
anymore
******* the wings
and jump
******* the wings
with a belly full of pills

most of the time
i don't think of them
but they are still there
old friend
their plush embrace
brushes over my scars
maybe they won't need to
come with me
when i die

I close my eyes and wish I was dead
(and so, I must again write about you)
because you only love me inside my head.

I try to calm down, but only see red
(I know this is bad, I'm afraid of me too)
I close my eyes and wish I was dead.

Some days I can scarcely get out of bed
this is quite the hole that I've sunk into,
because you only love me inside my head.

Why can't I think about anything instead?
there's so much I still need to do
I close my eyes and wish I was dead.

Something's wrong with me, I said
Something they would never help me through
because you only love me inside my head.

Out of this body my spirit fled,
into the night, on white wings we flew.
I close my eyes and wish I was dead
because you only love me inside my head.

oh gods, i have made
bread out of hope
eaten it watching
meteor showers
painted it all
in sacred runes
let it be blessed
by the light of the moon
i'm not asking for much
just something
more substantial than a nebula
because i've been running on hope
but my wolf mouth is hungry,
slavering for something
to sink my teeth into
feel the blood run from my mouth

a crow
croaks harshly,
sitting on
the wooden cross
atop the peeling
church roof
something here
is dead and rotten
the stench seeps
from inside
where a priest
lectures a group of children
sitting cross legged
on a wooden floor
about hell
honour thy father and mother
(even if they hurt me?)
or you will be
pitched into the flames
for all eternity,
he says,
looking down at
the pallid faces
and fawn- like eyes

i've got
pills in odd places,
taped to
tops of drawers
in teddy bear tummies
bags hidden inside leather boots

i've got
sticky notes,
all colours,
all over the room
because i can't remember anything
except for what i want to forget

i've got
a calendar,
with appointments in red
doctors, psychiatrists,
an army of people
trying to save me from my own head

and sometimes,
sometimes
it goes according to plan
sometimes i'm happy
and sometimes i still feel
like jumping