My heart is under a pile
My heart is a pile
On top of my heart there is a gun
The same gun I wanted to use to **** myself
The gun of redemption
On top of that there lies boulders
Boulders with names upon them
Lust
Death
Revenge
Jealousy
These boulders protect me at the core
Wrapped around the boulders is a mirror
To show lies
To hide the truth
To protect my heart from hungry eyes
Strewn around the boulders Lie bullets
Millions of bullets
upon bullet there is a name
I have not found my name yet but time runs out
Around the bullets there are chains
Chaining my heart to ground so that it will never be swept away
So that even a tidal wave will not affect me
Around that there are rags
These rags stink
They arex *****
They are disgusting
And finally around that is my heart
My fake heart
The one I show a girl whom does not love me
This is the heart everyone sees
This is my protecting heart


Please darling go to my heart
For me please darling
Go to the fake one and see through it
Remove it darling
Then after that look at my rags
And use them to clean your tears
And clean my rags
And fold them up and pack them away
Then my darling the chains are there
They are strong
No person has broken them
Please be stronger than the chains my darling
Break them and fix me
Break them and sweep me off my feet
Then my darling I will kiss you and care for you
My darling please do not stop
Go to the bullets and find mine
Put it in your pocket and never lose it
Then my darling look in the Mirror
And use it to see beauty in me  
Please my darling tell me I am beautiful
Please My darling
Then roll the boulders away
Show me
Show me you are willing to work for me and my heart
Then my darling take the gun and load it
Load it with the bullet you found then
Shoot yourself in the leg
Make me a part of you
My darling
Do this and I will love you
My darling please be my darling

Im a monster.Didnt see that one coming, but here i am : a monster: a human that has killed another and feasted on their flesh as if it were the sweetest pork on the earth.  Even though I knew what o was doing was wrong I still did it.  Why? This thing inside of me.  I call it "THE GROTESQUE LUST".  I stay hidden away from everyone but then it awakens. I then crawl into my box lock it while I still have any control.  Then I fight I fight for hours, days even.  In the end if I win I crawl out of my box and carry on hiding.  But if it wins it takes over and changes it, but it Let's me see through its eyes and it also allows me to retain my brain.  As I watch through its eyes I see my arms grow a dark green fur and my fingers become claws.  This is where I wish that I was dead.  Then it walks out into the night looking
Looking
Looking
It spots its
victim and chases and catches the poor girl.  I am forced to watch as it rips her apart and feasts on her.  Now the worst part comes: The taste
The taste of the blood
Of The flesh
Of The bones of everything
I enjoy it...............

I'm convinced ghosts and memories are cousins
I feel them in the walls
In the bathroom, in my(?) bed, and even in the glossy surface of the sink
It's just the wind I chant surrounded by stuffed friends
Then why do I feel so full I crave purging
Why do I feel their essence dirtying my palms
They're clinging to the hem of my dress
I want to yell
STOP HAUNTING ME! I'VE DONE NOTHING TO YOU BUT MOVE ON, THAT'S ALL I COULD DO.
My weary head meets the wall.
He replaced us. He hid all the tiny traces of us we didn't take and moved a brand new family unit in
Avoiding speaking of us like it would erase us from existence
From existing here.
I say quieter
I did nothing. I did nothing.

I want to scream or shout,
anything to help get me out of here.
I can't even seem to leave mentally
a moment never lost in song or dance.

Instead everywhere I look
I find constant reminders
of how I feel.
Books- covered in dust,
longing to be picked up and read.
The old  red bike in the shed,
hoping someone will share a beautiful summer day with it.
The little black dress in the back of my closet,
crying for night filled with oohs and aahs
while making heads turn.

But the books they are on my shelf,
the bike-- in my shed
and the dress in my size.
For I am the only one to blame
for leaving these once so prized possessions behind.
Forgetting them, leaving them in the past.
Although never used now,
they serve as the reminders
I dread to face each day.

People tell me  
I came pretty close to dying

Now I just sit and think about why I'm
alive anyway

I can't think of a thing to do during the day
but then again maybe I'm not trying

I've been seeing time as
A strange, madras garment
Memories, strewn together in a sloppy, random, make-shift way

At their most detailed
They are incidents given a slot on the
nightly news
But we can never be there again
whether we are the ones falling from the burning building,
being interviewed about it
or glued to the couch watching

Everything, just snippets on the cutting- room floor,
Melting frost on a window
"I love you" written in the middle
Something overheard in a smokers' annex
A person you bump into on the L
That sweater you had to have but lost at the 92nd Street Y
A flash in a pan
A view from the top

Our lives are abridged versions of some greater path, that only those who walk truly upright are unlucky enough to perceive

I don't have it in me to be your friend
because losing a friend is worse than just someone in the back seat of a cab or sprawled out on a towel on the beach at night

besides, why wouldn't you leave? Go to London with her, with him, with her, with them

You and him and her and they and they tell me to have goals. You ask about dreams.
I seldom get asked questions
"Im paralyzed by everything that I touch or that touches me."
I tell everyone else I want to be in the "non-profit sector"

I think about renting  a small room.
Working a night shift or not working.
Watching sun pour in the window with a saffron glow
Watering the plants on my small sill(s) to help them grow.

I rarely think much at all

I wasn't wrong the other night, to say, that you always **** me over.

You weren't off-base to say I'll never be happy

That last piece of cake
The one that everyone wants
You could have gotten a piece before it was all gone
But you waited until the last second
And then it vanished

They all wanted that piece
They wanted to save it
But someone rudely took it away
Just like that

Then, a new cake was made
Fresh with perfection
And that last piece of cake was forgotten

*Just like I was