A mess of things.
That's what they were
are
have been
since the world had become
aware of her sad existence:
A bleak tale of little misfortune
and unimaginable distress.
The powerful sources of melancholy
have claimed another victimless victim!
For you see, she is not a hot mess,
she is a glorious problem.

And a hideous waste of everything beautiful.

There was something hidden in the corner
of some place I couldn't touch.
I heard it move. I felt it.
But everyday I let it be.
I let it grow.
I let it live.
I let it find a new place to hide.
Maybe I am too afraid to find out what it is
that hides in the back of my mind.
Or maybe I'm too scared that I'll miss having one secret
that I could keep from myself.

From light hearted happiness

to straight into the ditch

they **** things up

so easily and they arent even here

that stain wont lift and you dont even bother washing it or coming clean.

so this snap of mine turned into your violent negation

another length of silence,

how long before you miss me this time?

how long before you realise that you are

deaf dumb and mute with out me.

I am your unglamourous purpose

I am your what little meaning you have left in your life

I gave birth to your reasons

and I will surely **** them if I go

question is,

how long do you have before you cant stop me?

how fickle you are about such important things

and how much unecessary passion will you

channel into a pit that is no longer interested in you

because there is nothing to take.

it never was a giving pit.

****** you dry now theres only heartache left to bleed

and it is all of your own making

the fantasy that they thought you were special

that they couldnt live with out you.

but I never could.

When I was made
Someone must have ******* up the wiring.
There's a short in my brain,
Like water was spilled on it.
Now there's smoke pouring out my ears
And the gears stopped spinning.
I think a wire got disconnected
With the first blow I took to the head.
Now I'm smoking like a chimney,
But that's alright,
Its all electrical.

Gazing toward Utopia
she danced the night before the mildewed morning
with glassy eyes dazed
half-sleeping with folded arms
she gazed out toward tomorrow

I long to know the place in you
No one else has ever seen
Deeply and intimately

I long to reside in the secret place of your heart
The room no one else will ever be able find
Quietly and passionately

I long to possess every part of you
So I can love you in your entirety
Every single thing you loathe about yourself
Every single piece you hide away for safe keeping
Every single particle of you and your whole existence
Tirelessly and completely

I long to love you
and love you
*and love you

I went to this funeral the other day
and had a blast, the black suits
contrasting the pale faces of those shocked
by death, meshing with the warm
red of crying eyes. Hot sun flashed
through the stained glass
illuminating the carefully chosen
mahogany bed where the lucky one
slept.  I cannot picture
a more beautiful scene.

And it only gets better! Family
coming together, joined with emotion,
seeing old friends and meeting new ones
The young and the old
both dressed in Sunday’s best
captures a timeless cycle.
What is there not to love?

My funeral is going to be
the best. Come one, come all –
everyone’s invited! The low hum
of the cellos creates an ominous
tone overpowering the occasional
sad sniff, thankfully.
Stop crying you pathetic things
and come laugh with me.