anguished, anemic, adolescents, arrayed, in a line.
apprehensively, observing the ambulance, take away
an afficiando, again, today.

bereft of energy and ability
to see......
that cutting,
while a momentary thrill.
is leaching their ability,
to be anything
but lethargic, listless and ill.

an addiction to, endorphines
angst and red blood spill.
becomes a viscous, viscious
cycle,
that daily, causes a spiral downward.

you cut, to feel,
release from pain,
blood flows,
draining you of
the nutrients and
sustenance you need,
to cope with living life,
you become,
less able to deal,
with the slights and arrows
and daily dross.
so you cut,
to deal with the loss
of the ability to cope,
you saw away,
at your skin like,
it is a mental rope.
all the whil
you lose blood the live giving force,
you lose the ability to hope
spiraling, until....
you collaspe in class... your secret revealed...

A is for  ANGER...
bright fiery red,
at the abtruse,
asininity of it all.

I often ask if it is worth it
Walking down that path
I once wrote of destruction
When I was less full of laughs

I head back, away to the start
I one day returned, and fed on the art.
I am mostly here, I am sometimes there
I have also consumed, ever caught up in care.

Sometimes when I visit, I stay for a spell.
Some days when I live it, I feel the earth quell.
The throbbings in my mind, slow my sense of time.
The fire so throughout, burns until I'm fine.

It begins as a warm fire
a tingling glow deep inside
attempting to ignore it
pushing it to the back of my mind

The warmth transforms to a burning
filling every ****** thought in my head
my body yearning and craving
the hot spot deep within my bed

I sadly wait frustrated
as at this moment I am all alone
and long for my man to return
when I know he'll make me his own

A 'feeling'

                'clouds'

                            ­  over me

I try to find the words
to match it,
   a phrase
     that agrees with the emotion
       and search the metaphor
         to portray the image

It fights for my attention
    this 'feeling'
  and I battle with it
       for a time
It does not waver
      until I submit
I slump, defeated sometimes
       sitting with my pen

Now may not be convenient
      but 'now' is the time,
    
           apparently!!

I offer
  'patience'
and the rhyming story
  is permitted to unfold

        and be told.

As I sit
  the words and phrases
    are no longer jumbled

        they're calm ..

            and settle ..

    like tiny

                white

                     glittering flakes

            within a snow globe