I can still feel it -- sliding, melting as it runs down my skin,
slowly dripping down my sides and into places only you've been

he's a masterpiece
  of old regrets and
  lonely nights

she's his picasso --
  painting his undoing
  with every stroke

her fingers careless
  as they brush against
  his pale skin

when she leaves again
  he plucks on his guitar
  a melancholy tune

he's a masterpiece
  of old sadness and
  lonely solitude

A broken record playing softly from the corner of the room on repeat
with no-longer-white sheets draped over rotting, forgotten furniture.
Thick drapes coated heavily in years of dust have kept the warm rays of sunlight from piercing the stale darkness that permeates the space.
There is no life here, no forgiveness;
only the wailing of the record as it hums its familiar tune, until finally it, too, ends.

On my own
I taught myself to believe
In everyone but myself
Until the time came I had
No choice but to see the truth
I was worthy, too

On my own
I fought to live through days
I never imagined I could escape
Thought I'd be trapped there
Reliving all the mistakes that
Led to those moments

and when I use to write about
falling in love with you,
how it happened too fast and hard
how it left me open and exposed
what it felt like, that warmth in the cold
you were just so good, a taste
of something raw and real
and so bad for me but I didn't care
because when I use to write about
falling in love with you,
I didn't know how ****** up we were
but we learned

over all the voices
screaming
at me to get it together
there's yours
telling me to stop
and gently
coxing me into serenity
to take my time
and not feel rushed
but yours
is only one voice
over all the others
and they're screaming

something stronger than ****
is all that I need
to get myself to open up
that part of me, which
until now has always been
shut..

somewhere there's a place I belong
a house down a long road
with the person who
brings me peace
when all I am is
chaos.

What can I ever say? Nothing.
There's never going to be a right time.
Instead, I'll just wait to forget you.
Hour by hour, until you never existed at all.

why can't I root for you from beneath the trees;
a bug like me doesn't deserve to be seen
by one like you.

he's always been my poison,
I've always known he would **** me
as slowly as any substance abuse
that brought me absolute bliss
he's a vision of petulance and
frustration, of hardships and loss,
and when he speaks I stop to listen
all the while begging for a kiss
of the poison I've been living off of,
for months upon months I was his
and I told myself he was mine but
the truth is he belongs to no one
because it's as simple as this,
poisonous lips don't fall in love

don't know what I'm doing here,
came with high expectations
for my pretenses to fall through,
but the only one falling now is me;
I can't seem to understand,
how everyone else can do this so easily
live a life they never asked for,
as if they did and they're happy;
how could anyone be happy
in a world as cruel as ours,
where its cooler to not care
than to get angry and cry,
because there's nothing
that any of us can do to change it
anyway

anyway
what I'm saying is again,
I don't see a point to this *******
why fight, struggle, cry, and hurt
when the end game is the same;
dead and then forgotten, buried in the dirt
or burned and turned to ashes,
sitting pretty on a shelf or scattered to the wind
our bodies becoming nothing fast,
while our soul begins a new journey on its own
wherever that is, whatever it is
maybe I'm more ready than I thought
to taste that kind of freedom

A good one, if I got any sleep last night that wasn't interrupted
by your elbow in my back
it felt eerily like a knife I thought, but how unfortunate for me,
when you woke up to find
I'm laying on the floor, finally finding my rest, however poor,
so you complain of love lost
and knowing your fondess for storming out doors, still I wait
with the words on my tongue
my body reverberating the tense energy swirling around us,
because if you do what I think
than what else could be said to mend to cracks in our image?

not much I gathered from the look in your eyes
a look I didn't have long to memorize
you were here, and then not
faster then I could summarize

you branded me
angry red marks soiling soft skin
my body now a cage to the wild soul within

and like a stallion, i love you more when i'm broken

if I ever did stop writing,
  I hope it's because I'm already dead

I don't see the point right now
to even writing about
this, no
it's pointless
and all I'm doing is grasping
at air
trying to breathe
clearly and failing
miserably
falling
fast, and yes
I want to crash
I want to burn into ash
crumble into nothing
finally
where I belong at
last..

and as you trace my face
with the back of your hand,
the earth stands still
as if carved from glass

and only your warmth on my skin
in the dead of the night
is worth everything
that has come to pass

you wanna fall in love
with the girl behind the bar
the one with her shirt hanging low

she has that look in her eyes
that says she's down for the ride
and a body that makes you go slow

could you tell me why the average man
  is more willing to give a cigarette
  to a beggar on the street,

over the dollar in his pocket or the shoes on his feet,
  when he has two more pairs at home
  and his bank account is comfy?

more

I wanted more of you
  I wanted everything that you're not
  everything I know you could be, but can't
  wanted to feel you hold me, exactly like you are
  but different -- I wanted passion, undefinable
  not blind lust.




*more

you wanted more from me
  you wanted everything I gave to you,
  everything I once gave you, but can't again
  wanted to feel me ***** you, exactly like I am now
  but different -- you wanted lust, uncontrollable
  not love.

who even are you that I write
you're certainly not him, not with his lazy attitude and familiar habit of storming through my mind..
no, you're of some other kind of disaster
a figment of my imagination run far too wild, for too long
perhaps an earthquake, bringing the world down around me, leaving my feet on solid ground
if only to watch me fall when you open up your maw from beneath me, listening to my ragged breathing
I see you, slipping around inside my head, leaving cracks behind you, leaving them to prove that you were there
I can not ignore the ground shaking under me, though I try
a figment of my imagination run far too wild, a tale told many times
but who are you, a lowly hitchhiker lost within my mind
and maybe your grumbling is suppose to be a sign, of wanting to be free of me, same as I
but if you stopped ripping me to shreds we could work together,
but if you stopped, how would that impact the weather
I hated the storms, hate them more than you
so.. what if you stayed instead, let you wreck you havoc in my head, if only I wont have to taste the rain

and when it becomes too much
you're there

with your arms stretched wide
ready to embrace my pain
for me

because without you I'd be
crippled in my anxiety

EDIT.

not only is mr bolt missing, there's a like button too.

hp is basically fb and im so p'd that this keeps happening.

you, my sun and stars, are in the mountains
while my head is up in the clouds

praying to every god imaginable
they bring you back safe and sound

hold my hands
then twist them
kiss my lips
and rip them
hug me close
break my bones
dont tell me no
just make me go

It was late and I was starving
So I gorged myself on you

Now you're gone and I'm still hungry
What am I to do?

buzzing with aggression
rigid with tension

i must keep it in

when i'm breaking down i can hardly force myself to eat,
let alone reach out and call you for the support i know i need.
when i'm broken and tired there's not much i do besides walk to the bathroom and back to bed.
i've always known something was wrong in my head but now I see the truth and it has nothing to do with any of you,

it's always been me.

what does any of it matter
   this pain I feel
compared to the ordeal
   you're facing?

not a pinch, an inch, no
   -- so don't ask me

no, i'm probably not okay
but does it really matter?
my life is spinning, and
what i was once so sure of
is now a fleeting possibility
and everything else is chaos
i imagine myself in a spiders web
every issue i have is sticky
and connected to the rest
all working in unison to keep me
from passing this test that we call life

I'm waiting to get sick
so I can die without doing it myself
without a mess, lying in a bed
with the blankets tucked in around my head
I think I might be sick
or maybe I'm just being hopeful
that this will be over quick
maybe they could catch it early if I cared
but it's very hard to see myself anywhere
but lying down, somewhere dark and underground
or maybe in a jar on someone's shelf

-- who am I kidding, I'm a closet girl

-- nothing could prepare me,
        and nothing can compare.

with one hand you paint me
with the other, you hold
in your hand a wine glass
-- a sweet vintage from old

and later, as paint dries
you hold me instead,
both hands on my hips
-- the paint is all that's left

it was always the way you met my eyes
restlessly flitting from left to right
never sitting
still, in constant flight
you were the symbol of freedom
to me, but a soul in need of release
and when our eyes met
I knew what that meant
-- freedom from me

Paint a picture with my words, see the sun and the birds, clear skies reaching back for the horizon.. see the pain in my eyes, the fear I disguise, my wings shredded, torn, and broken.