I hear voices in the walls,
footsteps of ghosts walking down my hall,
and though I know I created them
I still can’t help but be afraid

They speak in whispers
telling me what I want to hear,
giving me someone to blame,
someone other than myself

but if they really are all in my mind,
I guess I’m just sending myself in circles

maybe that’s why my head
always feels like it’s spinning

Or maybe I just
cannot fathom why I would
construct such a thing that would
aid my demise, as it convinces me
that it is all I need

giving me the illusion that
my feet are steady on the ground
while it pushes me
closer and closer to the edge

- S.G.

Every poet writes of
the moon as if they know her,
drinks coffee like water,
and overuses words that
they have never even said aloud

Because no one truly cares
what the writer felt,
if the interpretation
did not feel relative to the reader himself

       An indent here,
a story about bruised knees,
a summer that should have never ended,
and love that should have
                  before it even began
A copy of a copy,
of a copy, of a copy

and no one seems to notice,
unless while reading,
they felt nothing similar

I could tell you I have flowers
sprouting from my rib-cage,
and a rabbit thumping away in my chest,

but if that means nothing to you
I become just another
******, wannabe internet writer
who failed to make
your heart-strings
resound

- S.G.

Let me fill the
extra space between
your sheets

miss me
when you don’t wake up
to whispered hellos
between half-sleep kisses

and if your
wandering hands can’t
find my warmth
at 3am when you wake
from a dream
wish for me

- S.G.

For a while
I thought I had
a debt to pay

that the more
I let this take from me
and the smaller I became,
my fears
would do just the same

and as the stomach acid
burned my lips and tongue
I believed it’s sensation
was the physical
manifestation
of the nightmares
pouring out of me

merely side-effects
of my own exorcism

- S.G.

I want to watch all
The teeth fall out
Of my mouth
My eyes sink
Into my skull
Every hair
Fall out of my head

Brittle nails and blue fingertips
Yellowing patches
And skin
Clear enough to see rivers
Flowing beneath
Canvased tight,
as if my bones
Are just hoping to break free

To cut through
The canvas with
The knife my grandfather
Gave me
Spilling everything

Every word
I could never get out
Every time getting
Caught on
The tip of my tongue

No glass half full
Or half empty
I want to be as shallow
as it gets

When the waves
Crash against the shoreline
Making their way up
To meet your sand-covered toes,
That is as shallow as
The water gets

I could never
Be so versatile
As the ocean

I have to choose,
And what’s the point of
Such strong feelings
If they are always trapped
And writhing
On my inside

- S.G.

"You’re not bitter anymore"
She spit it out like
Old, tasteless gum

And I wanted to retort:
“You’re ******* right
I’m not bitter
I’m not sorry that I left
And it doesn’t hurt to
Keep leaving you anymore
sometimes I even hope
It’s the last time I do”

But all that came out was:
“I know, I’m getting better”

Better without you
And I know that’s why
It sounded like an insult
When you said it to me

- S.G.

Your perspective
Is your reality

You create your demons

the disappearing creature
You see out of the corner
Of your eye,
The dictating voices,
And all of the ghosts
That haunt you

You laugh,
try to convince
The world
That You are not afraid

But you still don’t know
That you, yourself,
Can destroy the very
Demons you are
So bound by

repeat after me:
“I am in control.”

You can exorcise
The cold, abandoned
Body you are
Meant to treat
Like a home

Purge it’s
Negative forces,
Rid it of cobwebs
And dust mites,
Set rat traps,
Pull up the blinds
And paint the shutters
The same colour as
The sun in the sky

You are not
Deep, dark and dank
Like they said you were

You are
A little bit empty,
And in need of some
Home improvement

You are not unfixable,
Because you are not broken

- S.G.

I have to ***** out
My darkness
Like a candle
Or it’s wax drips from
My lips and tongue
And scalds those close to me

I let it burn
Long enough to
Let you know of it’s
Presence
It’s scent filling the room
with hints of
Warm Hazelnut,
Pumpkin Spice,
Clean Cotton

Giving that conversant,
Almost-friendly,
atmosphere

Familiar.

Bringing you in
For more,
Because, hey,
Everyone’s a little bruised,
A little vacant
and dim, Right?

And Nobody,
not one single person
wants to be
Alone in that until
We realize our darkness
Shuts out everything else

That adding another
Person’s shadow to our own,
Is what everyone means when
They talk of
The blind leading the blind.

- S.G.

I wish I could write for you,
I wish I could die for you,
I wish everything I said
Didn’t seem like I was
Lying to you.

- S.G.

I’ve said it a thousand times,
But I love you,

You’ve opened me up
To perspectives
I would have never known
If not for you

And next Monday
Will mark one year,

One year since
You saved me
From the embarrassment
Of facing
An ex boyfriend alone,

One year since
I kissed you while
Watching Full House
In my living room
At 4 am,
Expecting nothing but
Unrequited infatuation,
And receiving more
Than I could ever ask for

My insides still turn,
And my hands still
Tremble when you
Look at me,
And I realize
That I will never
Find another
Who can make my
Heart quiver with
Words as simple as
“I love you”

I could write a thousand
Words for you, to try
To explain
What you’ve done for me,
But no language
Could ever portray
What I need you
To know, so I will
Settle for the bare minimum,
And for the rest
Of my time here
Find better ways
To show you.

- S.G.

Everyone I’ve spoken to


Tells me that if you were
“Actually” suicidal


You wouldn’t want
Anyone to know

To be honest I’ve


Probably said it myself


A few times

But I don’t know if


I can believe that,


Because every time


I think of dying


All I want to do is


Scream, “Hear me,


hear my ******* voice
and understand it, because


I need you to know that
This is real,
and this is all I think about”

And I don’t want to hear


That it is going to get better.


I just want to feel legitimate again.

- S.G.

Your voice
Broken and weeping
Reminds me more of
false ******,
Than compassion

It cries,
“I am filled,
I am overflowing,
Be like me, be like me,”

But it echoes,
“Fill me, fill me,
With anything,
with everything”

- S.G.

I’m sorry
that I don’t
want help
nearly
as much
as I want
to stop
waking up.

- S.G.

Kiss me with
your burning
lips,
let your
curious fingers
run down to
the small of
my back
and find
their home
there
between my
hips,
let the heat
melt away
the years of
wasted passion
and make me
feel again.

- S.G.

***** up my sorrows
'til I'm empty,
'til I'm cold.

***** up my sorrows,
I’ll be buried ‘fore
I’m old.

- S.G.

I hope this
cigarette finally
gets rid of the
taste you left
in my mouth

like coffee-breath,
that lingers until
it’s scoured away

I’ve tried
mouthwash,
dish soap,
bleach

and there’s
still your
after-taste

but does
it really matter
when I always
break down and
have another
cup later,
anyways?

- S.G.

She tells me
I’m lucky because
I don’t get bad acne

I tell her
she’s lucky because
she won’t have to be in
a wheelchair before
she turns thirty

and then
everything
gets quiet.

- S.G.

Tonight I bent over
to slide my fingers down
my throat & purge my sins away,

but I came to find that
my esophagus has learned
so much after months of this
nightly ritual that it no longer
needs my assistance

it’s hard to exist when
the things you are most
proud of are the things
you have to hide from
everyone else.

- S.G.

my knuckles
are ******,
and I am tired

every punch I
throw means
nothing when
the enemy is
myself

I am constantly
in search for
my own voice
to find the
courage
to say,

"I don’t want to
be sad anymore,”

but even though
I know I can’t keep
living with this,
I’m not sure if I
can live without
it either.

- S.G.

I don’t need you
to save me,

I need you to
cut me open,

Bleed out
all the darkness
I’ve been withholding
and tell me it’s okay
to be broken

Find my scars
lovely,
and don’t try to
kiss them away

Wrap up my bones
with kind words and
don’t let me forget
that feeling doesn’t
always mean
pain.

- S.G.

"Everything is funny
when you realize nothing
actually matters at all.”

So I’ll laugh as I
plunge my fingers
down my throat,

cut my veins open;
bleed myself dry,

a hollowed out
tree is the closest
I’ve ever been to

happy

and if nothing matters,
do I have any reason
to wish for better days?

- S.G.

I am
Spiraling,  
        spiraling,
spiraling

         d
           o
             w
               n,

and I can’t
find one thing
to grasp onto,

not the
smallest little
bit of hope to
cling to,

the ember
burning bright
at the end of my
cigarette does
not make up
for the sunlight
I’ve been lacking,

and the words
stuck on repeat
in my head, like
a skipping vinyl,

every living
          thing dies,
      every living thing
dies, every living
     thing dies, and soon
                     you will too,

do not mourn
over loss of
perspective
while you still
have hold of it,

do not mourn
for the emptiness
you will no longer feel,

do not mourn
for Heaven,
and do not
mourn for Hell,

just be happy
          it all ends.

- S.G.

I am not your rock,
your place of solace,
and I cannot give you
structure in these
empty words

My own life is
cracking at it’s
foundation
and I’ve lost
the architects
phone number

You have to
find foundation
in yourself

because odds are
your handyman,
isn’t on-call for only you

and when the
wind comes,
and the rain pours
you’ll be stuck
with leaky ceiling tiles
and a draft that will
chill you to the bone

- S.G.

I wasn’t looking
for God, but I
found the Devil,

He slid his
hands up my
skirt, rosary
beads and
all, breathing
skewed
bible verses
into my ******
ears like Mary,

The only tongue
he spoke in
was the one
he was sliding
down my throat,
forked and
snakelike,

He told me,
"Your absence
of faith is pleasing
though incorrect,
you see, just as
seeing doesn’t
mean believing,
rejecting something
doesn’t rob it of
it’s existence.
That means your
sin still counts.”

And I will burn in Hell,
just like everyone else.

- S.G.

I love you like you are the last breath I’ll ever take,
breathing you in fully; your everything turned to particles in my lungs, growing
cancerous tumors in my chest where there may as well be a sign hanging,
between my *******, ‘Yours, all yours’ because there will never be
another that can poison me and make me whole the way that you do.

- S.G.

kiss me deeply,
use the rhythm
of your hips to
tell me you love me
without words,

let me do all
the talking, only
when I write
about the heat
of your breath
on my neck,

the grip of
your hands
on my hips,

the overwhelming
thrill when I feel
your weight
on top of me,

because when
words fail, all I
need is your
body language.

- S.G.