I normally wouldn't say this to anyone,
but I'm  s
               l
               o
                 w
                    l
                      y
                          falling  a p a r t ,
and I can't stop
                       feeling like
                                       this.

It's killing me from the
                                ( inside ),
and it's trying to get
                                ) out ( .

But I'm fighting it with all I've got...
           (failing)

but
it's
not (never)
enough...


m.k.*j

I looked,
I looked long and hard
and shouted-
"you're ugly,
you're atrocious
you're revolting
boring
and plain
aloof
unobservant
and so, so pathetic.
You're nothing but a useless,
worthless piece of trash
My God, could you be any more sad?
Stop those tears,
Nobody cares.
It's true what they say,
you'll never be loved,
you can't even make a decision by yourself!
So many symptoms, so many ails,
stop blaming them all on your daddy issues.
So you say you wanna die?
Then do it,
what's stopping you?
praying that someone will miss you?
Well grow up, because they won't,
grow up, grow up!
older with each day
but still just a child inside,
cocooned in your ailments on a tear-stained pillow.
Stop crying,
you ***** little mutt,
why do you keep waiting for others to sew you up and fix you?
Is it because your bones are so weak
you can hardly rise in the morning?
Is all of this true?
You know it is,
My God, you are such a sad little creature."

I've said all I've needed to say,

So I step back from the mirror.

I think the scary part is that
eventually we all become strangers
and the body you used to let yours sleep against
only two months ago
now silently tells you to keep distance.

I think what hurts the most is that
you used to look at them and know exactly
what was going through their mind
and now the only thing you are sure of
is that it's not you.

You used to call them when you felt like **** and
now you're fighting yourself all night
not to dial their number.

They used to fill your mind
first thing in the morning
and your mouth would easily curl up,
now they're the last thing at night
you think about and maybe
you have never even known eachother.

he listens to me in vermont
as i breathe in new york
the slow labored tones
of sleep.

from a scratched house by a ****** park
to a rich wooden cottage deep in snow-hushed woods
my moose listens to my little sighs
and groans
and going-to-sleep-noises.

the way he clears his throat comforts me.