I lay on my floor, flat on my back and staring at the lifeless ceiling.
My breathing,
so soft, so quiet.
I don't want to hear the noise my chest makes going up and down,
for I will avoid the evidence that I am, indeed, still alive and not dead yet.
I should be.


It's late
but I don't want to sleep.
I do not fear the feeling of sleep, I fear the morning after.
The disappointment that tags along when I wake up that I am still breathing, and I did not die in my sleep.
I will have to go through another day of never being anybody's first choice and never doing anything right.

And I want to die but I don't want to **** myself because that's such a selfish thing to do, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I could only imagine the world as the shape of your jawline and the forrest half the colour of your brown eyes, that I didn't realize that your footprints were only another thing that was beautiful on the sand.
I'm sorry the coffee cup that you last drank from is still sitting on the counter waiting to be washed and sometimes I kiss the spot you sipped from, I'd do anything, to feel anything, that once touched you.

Its her birthday
She sits alone
If you take a glance at her eyes
You can tell she's empty
Engulfed with sadness
But if you greeted her
She would seem rather upbeat
You would never know
The meaning behind the scars you can't see

Thoughts provoke verbal aesthetics to self-proclaimed victims of the poetic
Taking meaning out of past moments
Learning from circumstances past the point in which they last occurred
Just because I write the words doesn't mean I live everything I scribe on the page
I have the gift to 'feel' so everything I write is the extent of my artistic range
I consider myself a painter for today's age
An oracle of sorts, a seer, a sage
I birth pictures that encompass everything you can think of from romance to pain
One glimpse into the expanse of my mind
Is like seeing the world from the sky
I'm a thinker
And as a believer
I write these scripts to help me see through God's eyes

Concepts explained
Simplicity attained
Wayside out of mind
Insight
One psychology
Emphatic satisfaction

Childlike imagining
Visions of cotton candy
Looking to the clouds
No wrong just right
Nose wide open fill with sweet smells
Her hair her smile
Day dreams and romance
The two of you together
Unsevered
Connected forever

The roaring sound of applause is becoming too boisterous to bear.

A flock of cameras and video recorders begin to huddle at the corners of the platform set behind the curtains of the stage. Actors, dancers, stage crew, and all of those who smiled, slowly line up for the grand finale.

But not this girl.

This girl sits on top of the railing of the things that hold up the set. Waiting, seeking, and wistfully watching. An actress, without a doubt. One of the best, they say. Although this girl had no plans to take that step and accept gravity as her master and plummet to her death, she won’t deny that she hasn’t thought of that before. This time, she had other things on her mind. Something radical? Well, maybe. Spontaneous? She was too lazy to move. Dark and twisted? Not in that sense. Nonetheless, she was thinking of something with importance.

For instance, she was thinking about the homemade cookies her mother used to give her, if she behaved perfectly, quiet, and still. Since she loved the feeling of success and food in her stomach, she fought back the longing of playing games and having fun.“Too perfect a child”* some might say, but that never got into her. All she wanted was the sky, moon, stars, and nothing all at once.  

Years go by, mistakes are done, and nothing is made whole again. The girl is woven in a snare of lies and is drowning in a bathtub full of the blood of swine. She swims and floats and tries to escape the demons that haunt her very soul. Breathe in, breathe out. She continues to sit perfectly, quietly and still. Never talking, only listening, to the sounds of rules and rules and rules and rules and rules and rules that mess up her insides.

The girl performs an act that no one has ever seen. Taunting and terrifying, but beautiful and graceful all together.  The mask shows her perfection, the mask shows you nothing. Jump, then fall, tumble to the ground. Tick, tock, tick, tock, the sound as time goes by.

Tick
tock
tick
stop.


The roaring sound of applause from the demons in her head is becoming too boisterous to bear.

A flock of cameras and video recorders begin to huddle at the corners of the platform set at the unseen bottom of the pit. Actors, dancers, stage crew, and all of those who tell her, slowly line up for the grand finale.

*She takes that step.

out of all the games I chose to play
and all the broken hearts, you chose to stay.

not because of me, or love, if that exists.
but because of the game you always wanted to win.

now, I don't dare believe in beginners luck
yet you seem to know how to play this little game

I, carelessly, managed to fall.
You, never even helped me stand up.

I lost at this pathetic game.
You, laughed at my plea of help.

we both know how to manipulate this amusing stance
**but I refuse to lose.