Olive branches smother and dismember
in the mud giggling in time
with the squish emanating from
my alternating huff and puff
footprints

I trudge in Winter's sweat of
schizophrenic rain
My old defence, sheepish stolidity,
got tweaked in a twist-up
tight as a candy cane
with a modest gasp
of underground success

That shadowy hush of acknowledgement
ballooned in my ear like a blow fish
amplifying the environmental inertia
that never made me happier
nor this sad

I may have been mad
walking from informed opinions
like a failed Orpheus
but defence shouted in silence
and I returned home
to the unconditional support
of a pet art

Acknowledgement's shadowy hush
tore a blister trail down my back
The ointment of Winter will soothe and
release me before billing me
with a scar and littering in the recycle bin
of who I want to be

Today I wanted to be accepted
Night has arrived with reinforced snowflakes
and the chill on my hot back
has me wondering if I would rather be feared

Would it be considered suicide
If I failed to see the truth
Or listen to friends time and again
That the gun in my hand was you

Who was it that purchased the bullets
Who spun the magazine
Who left the fatal shot in the chamber
Who caused this horrific scene

As it goes it doesn't much matter
The shot has already been fired
The end couldn't have come quickly enough
The hole straight through the heart

So I ask...

Would it be considered suicide
If I failed to see the truth
Or listen to friends time and again
That the gun in my hand was you

Laying here with you
4 bowls in.
I feel the rush through my body as were here skin to skin

Laying here with you
My window open wide
Nothing could go wrong with you by my side

Laying here with you
Pandora playing softly
Goodnight, sweet dreams, you sure are lovely.

I never understood why
girls cried over boys
until razor blades took
my best friend away
from me.
I drove around
then I bought one
of those energy drinks you hate
and every time
I thought about dying
I took a drink
but it was half empty
before I made it off my street.
So I ran until I couldn't breathe
and then I ran until
I collapsed on my knees
but I got up and somehow
I made it home and
now I'm washing
you out of my hair,
trying to find you,
are you in my veins?
Or should I carve into my lungs?
You have to be somewhere,
I can't live without you.
I think I understand now.

As the darkness outside invades the room,
And the duvet is pulled round our shoulders
I'll push myself into your back
To reassure you of how I'm feeling.
I'll sweat through the night
With your small body fitting
Like a square peg in a round hole
Next to mine.

We are made of
Water and sand
Creatures that live
On the line
Of the land
Drawn by
The child-gods
Seperates us
Between
Land and the Sea
Made from sand
And water
Are we.

As the tide
Goes out
Then so
We are pulled
Toward azure
Waters
In lagoons
And deep pools
And as she
Comes back
Return so do we
Our rightful place
Interfaced,
Between
The land
And the sea

Most people have scars that run in
perfectly
              straight
                           lines
                     but
             mine
        are
hopelessly crooked
because
I hated myself too much
to be that careful

I hacked at the paper-white skin
that was my wrist
and drew
               thin
                      red
                           lines
that didn't seem to know
where they were going
or even where they wanted to go

Today
when I touch them
the pain is still
                        so
                            raw
­                        so
                  real
I can almost feel the tears
rushing down my face
and onto my arms,
mixing with the blood
trying in vain to heal me

When my arms were open
I didn't see blood
I saw
         hurt
                hopelessness
                               ­      fear
                                           insecurity
                               despair
                      doubt
              pain
       hate
anger
The pain is hidden
underneath the layers of skin
that rushed to cover the ones
that I had pierced through
but sometimes
I think
           it
              might
                         still
                                be
                        ­              there