eight o’clock breakfasts,
pad down the hall in padded socks
i hear her weeping again
she’s in 7B because she liked the bed against the wall
good morning, here are your meds
they scan my wristband to charge me later
i eat and spend the day talking with strangers
sometimes lying, sometimes not
i fill my head with words on pages to pass the time, yet it only seemed to move slower
i can’t remember what home feels like because I was never able to find one in myself
so here I will rest for now, until it’s time to move on

A girl who was familiar with bruises,
shouting and harsh words no longer made her ears ring.
An elementary school girl who learned what it meant when her parents were too drowsy to speak,
borrowing money meant she’d never see it again.
A teenager who knew that her family would not change,
promises were never certain and lies would always be.
A young adult who now continued the abuse on herself,
pain was a constant and always self inflicted.
Can she be blamed for how she was taught to love?
Can you hold her accountable for the ways she learned to protect herself?

I write for me and I write for her.
I do not write to you or to those whom judge others for their own feelings.
I write to express my heart and it’s sadness,
to expose my brain and it’s madness.
These are words my mouth cannot form,
And my being dare not externalize.
The ink on these pages may be looked upon with disgust and horror,
Or possibly understanding and appreciation.
Please, as you read my words do not ingest them so harshly,
Allow time to let them sink in,
And be taken in the smallest pieces.
These pieces are mine and are of me,
Handle them with the care I deserve.

My parents first broke my heart
when I was younger,
and I have continued
to break it ever since.

Each sip I take
only brings more shame
for me to gulp down my throat
I sit and wonder
If this is how my dad felt
when he chose liquid gold
over his wife and kids
Is this how my mom felt
when she chose poison in her veins
over making sure her children graduate
I finally understand
As I sit here choosing blurred visions
over every piece of myself
That when you are this numb
the disappointment doesn’t matter anymore

Im sitting here with my heart
right up in my throat
and I swallow,
These last few days have just been so low
and I don’t know if I have the strength
that I need to climb out right now
I keep digging myself deeper
and fill my hole with liquid courage
to make me forget that I have none
This is just another episode to ride out
but man, I’m so f*cking tired of crashing

I will trust you
and believe I deserve better
when you are willing to be more obliging
than these demons.
I will not beg for a caring hand
when I already have a comfortable darkness
I know will never leave me.

I know my arm is not outstretched and asking for help,
But please do not let me continue to sink until I am no longer visible.

I write and I spill my heart onto these pages
over and over almost daily
I cry and smudge the ink
wrinkling the paper as it dries
but no matter how many words
seep through my pores and my pen
it still does not feel like enough
enough to stop my tears or
lift this weight from my chest
Here I am, clenching my fists
knuckles white, around this pen
wishing I never had to write another sad poem

I spend hours each day
doubled over the toilet,
spewing feelings
anger
     sadness
                 tears streaming
                                          down my
                                     face
                 worthlessness
all flushed
out of my mind and down the drain,
until next time

Even during seemingly normal days
days I would deem okay,
I find my mind drifting back
to memories of liquor and pills
oxy and xanax
wax coating on my lips
the kind of numbness that would make any addict jealous
Liquor and pills are my way of making sure I don’t have to rely on days that are just okay
to help curve all of the days that are not
I long to believe things are over again
so i can have every reason to let go again

I wish I would have held you longer
used a softer voice when I spoke to you
I wish I would have guided you
to nicer people on smoother paths
I wish I could have held your eyes shut
so you never had to see the evil around you
I wish I would’ve stopped you from seeking
comfort in all the wrong places
and convinced you to
seek peace in me instead
forgive me for cowering away in the past
forcing you to take the brunt of it all
I don’t blame you for the ways you chose
to cope and alleviate your pain
I promise to be here with you until the end
no matter how long you choose to stay or however you choose to go.

I feel that with and without love, we tend to go insane
Whether we find that love and lose it, or if we never find it at all
nothing but insanity would describe the feeling

You meet your knight in shining armor,
the healer of your pain,
one who promised to be there for you
through thick and thin-
for the first few months anyways.
Soon they’ll get tired of you
having your bad days more often
than what they expected,
the swords will be laid down
and you will be avoided
while at war with your brain.
You’ll be left to fend for yourself again,
fighting an army with your bare hands.
They will only come back when the coast is clear, just in time for the stronger you.
Your bruised knuckles will be kissed,
and you will be supported until it heats up again,
it is another bad day and you are all you have.

I’m sorry if my words
don’t make much sense anymore.

If it feels like I’m a million miles away,
it is because I am.
I listen to the people around me
with wind tunnel ears
while clouds roll endlessly through my skull.
I have a throat filled with cotton fields,
my words always swallowed with the seeds.
My lips curve in ocean waves
endless, the same, on repeat,
a head bobbing in the water.
I try to see life with a sharper lens
but the fog never leaves my head.

How does one learn to love themselves
and the body they live in?
If I had the ability to rip this skin
from my being and throw it all away,
I would
I would take myself apart
piece by piece,
right down to the soul
I would bare it for the world to see
so they can finally understand
it’s not all in my head.
Do you still want me?
Do you finally see me?
Trust me, neither do I.

Tell me about the first time you sensed my vulnerability. The first time you knew I could be manipulated by your eyes as easily as by your hands- those ****** fingers. Was it so obvious? Did I appear to be that naive, that in need of guidance? When did you see my willingness, my obligation to please? It was well known by you, well abused by you. But most importantly, when did you stop caring enough to do this to me..

Do not blame yourself for her undoing,
You are not at fault for the uneasiness in her brain,
the poison that has seeped into her skull.
You’ve plucked the thorns from her bleeding hands, taken the blades from her skin.
Comforting words have been offered,
Your warm smiles hardly ever returned.
She continues to dwell in a dark place,
Giving you only brief moments of light.
Please do not blame yourself for her undoing,
how can you expect to help someone who does all they can to hide their demons?

My fingers are stiff and my legs ache
I have a hunched spine, molded into a defeatist stance
My legs threaten to buckle beneath me
and my knees crack more than ever
My head is pounding as my brain begs me to waive the white flag to finally be done
No more, they wail. Screaming to be put out of their misery
At the center of it all, the one who has been hurt the most
My heart
How can I give up now when it is still so restless?

With each raise of your fist
an angel is born
their soft kisses soothe her bruises
the wings shelter her from the harsh words
and the halo is offered to hide the tears
she slips deeper and deeper into
the belief that things will change
that you will change
she believes this angel can protect her
every time the alcohol touches your lips
but in the end she is the angel who now knows
just how impossible it is to escape the devil

Since the crash I have found that I really do not care about much of anything at all
It’s all a waste of time
of energy
Why am I here
Who allowed me to survive

What do you do when the words of the devil
become secondary to the air you breathe
She whispers to you as you sleep
as you eat
and even now as ***** kisses your lips.
Somehow her presence offers peace
and I have begun to only welcome her.
I give myself to her more and more each time,
as I am aware she knows firsthand how to break an angel

Good night
To my love and my plague
to the liquid courage that ends - no,
starts my day
I cannot wait to taste you soon

Good morning
To regret and to shame
to asking, what did I do this time
since I cannot remember

Good day
to the longing
to the thoughts of you on my lips again
the shame has already faded by now,
and has opened more room for you to fill my head

Hello and goodnight
To my love
I welcome your sickness once again
and as always,
I am pleased to cease the thoughts
for tonight

I was thrown in a hole only armed with a shovel.
They yell and scream at me to find a way out.
What the hell am I supposed to do with the tools I’ve been given other than dig myself even deeper?

I pour so much hope
and so much longing into you
Into believing that one day you will change your mind about leaving
leaving your family and yourself behind
with a crater too big for any of us to occupy
everyone else has adjusted their lives
to try and move on without you
but mom,
I still house this great big hole in me
that only you can fill,
so all I can do is keep on sparing enough
hope for the both of us

I am drowning in
an overfilled world.
The ceiling is the max,
there is no reaching for the clouds here.
Sometimes being dealt a bad hand
is enough to bring us down.
I am living proof of someone
whose demons were smarter than their maker.

Don’t try to put out my fire,
you have no right.
I know you mean well,
but your feeble buckets won’t save me.

You can shave my hair off
to keep me from ripping it out of my head
you can hide my blades
to stop me from opening my skin
you can feed me pills
to try and get me out of this slump
you can tell me you want me alive
to maybe prevent me from swallowing a bullet so soon
but even if you sew my mouth shut
it will never be enough to silence the voices in my head

Believe me when I tell you
that my eyes are full of stars
shining only for you
My lips shoot lightning
wherever you can be found  
I have a heart of rolling thunder
and a soul so big it swallows the moon,
But why is it that when you look at me,
you can only see the storm,
the gloom

I feel the drops on my skin
running down my cheeks
and meshing with my tears.
My hair and clothes are soaked
but I am not uncomfortable anymore.
I shiver and I shake,
my breaths quiver and quake.
Still, I stand in the rain
These endless storms
are the only things that bring me peace,
for inside I am burning,
my demons refusing to be doused

I get lost in my brain more and more often,
Always in the hidden corners with sharp edges.
My mind takes hold and engulfs me,
Tucking me away with it.
Sometimes I scream, other times I comply.
It is not gentle and it is not harsh, it is me.
The only things that will bring me back probably cause even more harm, I think.
Blades bring my mind in focus, sharp and clearer than before.
They cut away what’s overwhelming me even if only for a short while.
Food brings me comfort and a place to land softly, until the guilt sets in of course.
Purging allows me to expel the harsh words and thoughts with force and all at once,
Finding relief until I’m hungry again.
None of these things ever hold and I am once again lost in my mind, losing my mind.
Temporary relief is keeping me sane,
For now.

My wounds have healed
and turned to scars
but I do not feel safe yet
I am not safe in this skin
and it is not safe from me
at any moment it can
so easily be opened
to again bleed red
when will I learn that it is here
to protect me from what is on the outside,
not what is on the inside

There’s an alarm going off in my brain
I stand there and let it fill my head
with its familiar deafening sounds
Everyone watches and waits for me to turn it off, to take care of it on my own
you know, the way I usually do
Except this time I don’t try to turn it off
I don’t try to quiet it down so it won’t disturb those around me
I plug my ears so it only grows louder
And this time I let my insides burn to the ground
Because anything is better than the thought of rebuilding myself over again and again, anything is better than this cold

Sad, pretty girl
you ****** blew it
probably only one drink too many
and you just couldn’t help but
bare your ill little secrets to the world
You spoke too fast
much too soon
so instead of sleeping in the clouds tonight
you’re on a rubber bed,
covered with rubber sheets
with those ****** socks meant for crazies on your feet

Have you ever had a coping mechanism
ripped right out from under you?
Your demon who promised to never leave you
is taken without your permission
or just stops working one day?
Do you have any idea what that does to someone?
I have become so rampant
so out of control
all in search of a new one
I don’t think I have ever hated myself
as much as I do today,
or as much as I will tomorrow

My hands cup gently
around the source of the heat
little flames lick at my skin
but they are not scalding,
only warm
this little flicker means very much to me
I provide it a barrier
to keep safe from harm,
it can easily be blown away
doused and smothered
my last little light is here in my palms
burning for my dear life

They’ll ask me if it was the food that did it for me
or if it was the puking
I guess it was both,
they both numbed me right up
until my gag reflex gave out
Now I sit here with buds in my ears,
nodding my head to the music
with a bottle to my lips
the alcohol cooling my empty stomach
This is how I live with myself
at least I’m living with myself

Some days I am swimming,
most days I am sinking.
There is never a day where I
can simply just float.

I fuel the fire that engulfs me,
pouring every ounce I have into it
I watch my flesh being peeled apart,
All that I hate destroyed before my eyes
It shouldn’t feel so good to watch this body crumble,
But I’ve been wishing it to happen for years now
My loved ones watch in horror from afar,
Yes in horror but never in shock
They have witnessed me slowly striking the match for years,
Only just now did it hit hard enough to flame.

Life without addiction
feels dull,
I am more numb now
than I ever was while using
the only difference sober is
I am so painfully aware of it.

I never thought these words
would ever leave my lips
but I long for the day
when I can finally spill
the entirety of my heart and
my soul onto the floor in front of me
until it soaks through my shoes,
stains the floorboards,
and leaks into the cracks of
someone else’s ceiling
I want these confessions to forever
be engrained in this home and this hell,
and in the people who chose to bleach over my ruins instead of taking care of a mess
they helped create a long time ago

I’ve submerged myself into
something of an abyss.
Most will say they’ve dug themselves a hole
they cannot get out of,
but that is not the case for me.
A hole indicates that there is a bottom
to reach and a way to move upward from there.
What I am part of does not reveal a way up,
Or a way down.
I am surrounded by a nothingness
that is endless in all directions.
Unsure of where to go,
I do not move forward or backwards
I simply stay where I am
and learn to live with nothing.

I’ve submerged myself into
something of an abyss
Most will say they’ve dug themselves a hole
they cannot get out of,
but that is not the case for me.
A hole indicates that there is a bottom
to reach and a way to move upward from there.
What I am part of does not reveal a way up,
Or a way down.
I am surrounded by a nothingness
that is endless in all directions.
Unsure of where to go,
I do not move forward or backwards
I simply stay where I am
and learn to live with nothing.

more , more, MORE
I often find myself staring off at nothing, enveloped in my thoughts and searching for something more to distract my mind.
         What happened to her?
You can see the emptiness that has taken residence in my eyes, my being, nevertheless I still hope that life will become more worth living.
         She was always the good child.
Every time I run my hands over my skin I feel the lines that reside there and the blood that seeps from them, knowing there will be more to come.
          She was so smart and loved school.
Most of my thoughts are consumed by food. Keeping it down is almost unbearable, but ridding myself of it helps me to feel a bit more at ease.
          She would never do such a thing.
I often dream of death and how to escape the nightmare that plays out in my brain, thinking there must be something more than all of this.
          How could this happen?

Isn’t it kind of funny how poetry comes easiest to us the closer we are to death. When everything else is a struggle, the words just seem to flow.

You say you like them dark and twisted,
yet you call her crazy.
She's a lovely girl
with the most corrupt mind,
no, not the cute type of corrupt
that makes you blush
with an inappropriate sense of humor.
She's the kind of twisted that
leaves her own body begging for mercy,
her tongue stings with the poison
of unkind words only meant for her.
She bends and bows at the feet of her demons
for only they can grant
the kind of release she longs for.

So many have a thing for roses
even my middle name
stems from the flower- Rose
deep red, never unnoticed
So strong with such vibrancy
yet so very opposite from myself
Still I grasped for it
wanting the strength and
attention it promised
And as the thorns
pricked my fingers
I only held tighter
bleeding red onto red

I was the person who jumped in the water first
while others stopped just at the shore
I was daring and willing to risk it all
people would watch from afar
and only wish for my courage
but during one of those leaps
I lost my footing,
I hit the ground hard,
now bruised and hurt
both legs appear broken
and I am only sinking
my attempt at recovery has been feeble
and I sit here wishing I never took the chance
I am fractured and lost at sea
promising to never leap again

Every time someone asks me, “how is your mother?”
I am paralyzed for just a moment
I hesitate, satiate them with a “she’s just fine”
But the reality is I haven’t got a clue
My mother, my best friend, one of the loves of my life
I guess maybe she doesn’t see me the same way
She doesn’t bat an eye when she’s got methadone,
Hennessy,
watered down beer,
xanax,
a man who she thinks will make her happy.. any impulse
She only bats and eye to release the tears as we beg for a “why?”