I wrote this at rehab last fall.
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The forests are covered with white snowy icicles
The wind is calling for a storm
The wolf packs are calling for peace
And my heart is calling for a home

8-28-13

Cloudy night
Making my own clouds
I put it down
Making my own winds
Tornadoes turning into mushrooms
They remind me of Hiroshima
My hands go through the metal nets
Why am I here?
No breeze
Just the slight murmer of stories untold
I'm alone in my own thoughts
Remembering the pain I went through
Wanting to get up
Wanting to leave
But I'm surrounded by black lines
Lines made of steel
Too close together
So, here I wait
In my own little world
Half-listening to stories
That will never make it out of here
Stories that no one else will ever here

Sitting out amongst the black sky
Gray smoke swirling like vipers
Their tongues like veins and roots of trees
Every one reaching the dangerous ocean his own way
Hitting the roof and disappearing
Disappearing in the black eternity
The black hole of hope
As well as the drain of dreams
Some of them fly past the roof
Trying to reach farther into the darkness
Into something that doesn't make sense
My ashes just hit the floor
That was my escape
When did it stop being slow motion?

8-30-13

All I see is green
Oak lively green leaves
But in my mind
It's the other green
No, not money
But my escape
The feeling of numbness
The green I have come to love
But no, it's not that green
It's still just the useless green
The green of Mother Nature
Oak brown colored leaves
In my mind's eye
Just oak leaves
I'd rather just stomp on
Let them cover the many avenues
But they are hanging up
Like ornaments on a tree
Tricking me into believing
They have some sort of worth
Some magic
But no,
Just...oak...leaves
All around
Rotting but living

I don't like what I see
I hate seeing it
The sadness
And the dirt
That covers the beauty
Or so they say

I'm one of those clowns
With the teardrops painted on
I was so close to getting them tattooed
I feel *****, I feel used
Like the grime can never wash off

What can I do?
What can I say?
To be a normal teenager once again

What should I say?
How should I act?
For people to never ask me "what's wrong?" again?

Here I am once again
Staring into the bathroom mirror
With tears on my cheeks
And on my lips

Daring them to slide off my chin
And down my arms
Daring them to turn red
Before I do it myself

Please just turn red on your own
Or I will be forced to hurt that ugly girl in the mirror again
That used, rotten little girl
Who put herself in such a situation
She deserves it, doesn't she?

She's trying to make me feel sorry by crying again
As my blade slides across my wrist,
I recall what a selfish rotten girl I was
For turning in a good Christian boy in

9-2-13

I think she's grateful there's people out there like me
Curious, we are, about her

Wondering now we can help her
And her friend, Mother Nature

Instead of covering the ground with cigarette ashes
Dressed as innocent, pretty little flower girls

Choking the green lovely grass
Acting as the reaper
Demanding a death wish on her friend already

Blaming it on stress
Until we see salt and pepper fields

Instead of being the norm, she's grateful
That we don't throw our useless junk into the sea
Drowning all the life there is

Smothering life and having busy schedules
Having schedules too full
To forget about life
No free time with our own sweet little families
Schedules asking too much of
To cast life off to the side
To only worry about ourselves
We only worry about what society thinks of us

And soon, we'll all be robots
Choking the life out of life
And all life will be gone
If not gone already

9-2-13

Maybe, I must turn away
For I am ashamed
"Why?"
Why do you ask?
Well, for one---
She's laughing at me
I can see it in her eyes

But I have my eyes closed
Laying here
How amazing it is to feel the warm asphault
And have the wind at my face
Kissing me
She's blowing kisses to me, my idol

Basking in the warmth
Trying to hear the ants underground
Mirrowing her reflection
As I feel my cheekbones rise

I love how the wind sounds
Ripples float above me
In the big sea of sky

Just the sound of pure Mother Nature
And all I see is a orangish-peachy color
Imagining what the sun looks like
But no doubt, she's looking down on me
And smiling