My eyes are red
My limbs are dead
I am so incredibly
Unbelievably
Impossibly
Exhausted
Yet sleep eludes me,
And why, you ask?
I honestly can't tell you,
But I probably deserve it.

a broken promise,
or two, or three
when i look at you,
that’s all i see.
        ghostly whispers
        and silent tears
        when you speak to me,
        that’s all i hear.
                a child’s nightmare
                now is real
                when you touch my face,
                that’s all i feel.
                        a broken promise
                        or two, or three
                        is all you will ever
                        be to me.

Paint a picture, little artist,
And put it in a frame.
Pin it up on the wall and
At the bottom, sign your name.
Convince yourself it means something,
That your hard work wasn't in vain.
Try not to notice that 
Every artist is the same.
You try to change the world
With brushstrokes on a page;
You try to create some beauty
In this dark and violent age.
But so does everyone else-
We're just like you, my dear,
And so, just like all the rest of us,
You'll eventually disappear.
Everyone's creating things,
And everyone's taking stands;
But originality has been killed,
And the blood is on our hands.

A few months ago, I saw you for the first time, and
I’ll probably never see you again.
I was at the mall with the friends who aren’t friends at all;
I think that day was the last time I saw them, too.
I walked into the food court and up to the stand where you were working,
And the first thing I noticed was that you were very pretty
Golden hair, bright amber eyes, and a smile
More sincere than what I was used to.
You were older than me, but couldn’t have been
More than eighteen,
And when I ordered a drink, you spoke in a kind voice
That sounded like music.
But this is what really made me remember you:
You reached your pale arm out to take the money from my hands,
And stretching from the base of your palm up to your elbow
Were rows upon rows of scars—some faded with time, but others
Red and scabbed, having been placed on your skin recently
By the burning kiss of a blade.
And so many things went through my mind at that moment, and
I still think them to this day.
I wonder if you noticed my gaze, trailing up your arm and into your
Eyes that shone like mirrors.
I wonder if you wanted to say something to me, but didn’t.
I wonder if you had finished that chapter in your life,
Or if you were already anticipating the next time you could open another vein,
And let the blood fall with your tears.
I wonder if you even remember me, or anything about that day.
Am I crazy for holding onto this memory?
I wish I had read your nametag, so I could’ve known the
Name behind the pretty face and untold story.
I wish I knew the reason behind your sadness;
The truth behind those rust-coloured eyes.
But mostly, I wish that I hadn’t been wearing a jacket, or that
I would’ve rolled up my sleeves, so that you could have seen
The rows upon rows of scars that lined my own arms—permanent reminders
Of the days that life wasn’t worth living—
Because they reflected yours almost perfectly.
And I wish you could have seen them, so that you could have known
That you’re not alone.
And I hope you’re still alive,
That this poem didn’t reach you too late,
Because I want you to know
I care.

she was a little girl once,
playing with dolls and laughing at nothing,
wearing a dress her mother picked out
as she plays pretend in the backyard.
but that was an eternity ago—
now, she’s all grown up,
playing with fire and yelling at no one,
wearing whatever she wore the night before
as she walks home from a strange bed.
eyes that were once filled with hope
look to the ground in despair
sweet lullabies have been replaced
with broken whispers and bitter lies
dreams of a prince charming evolved
into dreams of someone, anyone,
who will love her, if only for a night.
what once was loving innocence
is now painful corruption
and as she raises a glass of *****
to her pale, cursing lips, she prays (in vain)
that she could one day know the happiness
of being six years old again.

Last night I had a dream
that I was running across the ocean,
my bare feet against the waves
and the taste of salt on my lips.
I ran until I reached the end of the world
The sea became a celestial waterfall
as it spilled over the edge and into space,
staining the stars turquoise and
letting the moon go for a swim.
I stood on the edge and looked behind me
You were right behind me,
running like your life depended on it,
and maybe it did.
“I’ve been chasing you all day”
you said. And your skin was
white as snow, your lips red
as blood, and in your eyes I saw
a fire that was beautiful
and terrifying at the same time.
No more words were spoken
Instead, you grabbed my hand
and we jumped off the edge of the world
with the waterfall, and we fell
through the empty void of space
and I wasn’t afraid.