as the smoke takes its time to travel to my lungs
I think about what had brought me here
the people who pushed me to the edge
I think about the person I was
wanting to help my friends quit
now we all sit together
smoke so thick I cant see and inch in front of me
I can hear them yelling at me in my head
I'm to far gone now to care
but at the end of the day
I remember
that when the smoke clears
the people who are around me
are the people I need
and they need me
we care so much
we have all made bad choices
but that didn't make us bad people
but that's what they told the kids
that if you aren't great in school
if you did something illegal
or wild
had tattoos
had dreams and different ideas
you where a threat
because they are scared of us
but we mean you no harm
we don't want you to feel our pain
but we don't want you to say its fake as well
and now as the puff of smoke reaches the air
I let out some relief
because ill take another puff
and I will be full again

I'm A Suicide Bomb.
A Nuclear Explosion Of Unexplainable Inadequate Ambition.
A Hand Granade, Pull My Pin And  Watch Me Self Destruct.
A Land Mine Beneath Seven Inches Of Soil, Tensed Like Piano Wire, Ready To Sing Under Pressure. Ready To Scream.
Genocide Of My Own Veins. Pull Them One By One, Out Of Their Homes And Send Them Off To Interment Camps, Built To Hold The Blood Of A Body That Only Betrays Me.
I'm Holding Each Limb Hostage, Each Finger A Prisoner Of War, Every Fingertip A Monument Where Everyone I Have Ever Loved Will Mourn The Tragedy Of My Own Destruction.
Gas Masked And Gagging, They Will Always Ask Why I Did It.
A Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Diagnoses To Give Them Some Closure. I

Know They Didn't Understand The War I Was Waging Beneath My Ribs.

Waking Every Morning, Clawing My Way Through The Wreckage, With Knees And Palms Painted Filthy Black, Ears Ringing, Like The Sound Of A Thousand Dead Voices Vibrating,

I Have To Tell Myself It Must Be Happening For A Reason.
I've Been Wearing A Kevlar Vest Made Of Lies, White Ones, Stained Red.
A Purpose Born Inside Me, I Have To Ask How Much Longer Must I Keep Running?
I Have To Believe The God You Pray To, Prays To Someone Like Me, Because Who Else Would Declare War On This Kind Of Humanity.  

Every Day Is A Battle, Every Aching Moment Is A Last Attempt At Redemption,
Every Bone In This Body Is A Bayonet Aimed To Splint Apart My Skeleton.
This Isn't A War Anymore.
This Is Terrorism.
Terrorized My Paper Thin Skin,
Handed Me Black & Blue ink, and Told Me To Write Out My Surrender On My Skin, Like Bruises

Branded,
Wrapped In Kelodial Bandages.

I Am Damage.

I Am Destruction.

I Am Savage.

I Am. Terrified.

My Home Is A War Zone, Scabbed Over And Still Bleeding, No Where Is Safe, Not Even Inside My Own Skull.
I Am Eyelid Explosions And Neplam, Burning One Hundred Thousand Degrees Above My Own Boiling Point.

An Open Wound. Bullet Bomb Shell, Left With More Holes Than Whole.

Had Spent 6 Years On This Planet, 2,190 Days Too  Short To Understand What It Meant To Watch Twin Towers Fall.
They Said The Word Attack.
Lived Eleven More Years In This Body, In An Existence That Seems To Only Be Fighting Against It's Own Skin, Cutting It Into Pieces, Cutting Corners, Cutting Edges, Looking For Answers Beneath Whatever Remains Of Me.


How Can You Win A Battle When The Only One You Are Fighting Is Yourself?

I Think My Violet Eyes And Indigo Insides Believed In A Peace Treaty, But I Have Shrapnel Wedged So Deeply Inside Me, That It's Become Difficult To Understand Existing Without It.

How Do I Fight An Invisible Enemy, With Kerosene Lips And Matches For Fingertips?

I Am A Solider.
There Was A Draft And It Consisted Of A Single Six Digit Number That Matched My Birthday,
Like A Bad Joke,
I Can't Remember When It Began, All I Know Is That I Haven't Lived in A Time Without Bloodshed.

Mental Illness Runs In My Family,
A Weapon Of Mass Destruction,
Built Into This Blood,
O Positive,
Unsure,
Yet AB Negative
Of Where It Will Take Me,
Except To Live A Life Wondering If I'll Catch The Family Flu,
They Call This Biological Ware fare.

How Do We Wash The Blood Out Of Our Own Genes?

Us. The Sick Of Soul, The Diseases And Dying, The Psychosomatic, Sociopathic, Undiagnosed And Overmedicated,

Must Tell Ourselves

That Atleast Suicide Bombers..

Die For Something.

Let’s take a drink
Or two or three
Let’s take a few more
So I can barely see
I look around the house, you aren’t there

She grabs my hand I don’t know her name, she probably doesn’t know mine either
She leads me away and closes the door
Later on I’ll forget
I’ll wake up on the floor
Just full of regret

Let’s take a pill
or three or four
It’s not enough to ****
Oh **** it let’s just take more

If you can’t tell I’m out of my head
Dear God I can’t stand the way I am anymore
At some points I’d much rather be dead

Just.. Just tell me you love me
Tell me you care
I'll flush the pills, and not another drink
I, for one, think that's fair

You're better than death, for that I know
I searched that house or just a hope
Just a reason for me to go

I found one but she hasn't found me

15
the age we start drinking and smoking the ****
the time where we forget about doing good deeds
when reality finally came into play
we learned that life's all night and day
as we watch the world fight about not getting their way
and when our first love leaves us although we begged them to stay
it's when we realized that mommy and daddy don't always know best
they aren't superhuman they're no better than the rest
and teachers became the enemy of us all
instead of the ones who help us up when we fall
rebelling and lying is just what we'll do
until we're old enough to make good decisions
maybe once we're 22
but until then we'll continue to sin
when we have ***,love,and drugs where do we even begin
that first lover who touches us, who makes us believe
in a love, a good life, the lover who deceived
us because soon we'll grow up not to trust
we'll forget about real love and grow to want lust
we'll age and forget about all that we've done
with two kids and a mini van where's all the fun?
the fighting between a partner and you
a divorce that's so likely between the two
your kids are now mommy's and daddy's like you
and slowly the days are getting to few


and *it's over.