Her fingertips were Icy
and her eyes rather glazed.
A desecrated body                                                                          
with an endearingly brazen face.
Meandering flesh, rich in mortality and fable.
Her skin mapped a journey,
juncture she could no longer able.
Scared arms marked moments,                                                        
of suicidal salvation.
Unwary and wide eyed,
too juvenile to be taken.

Today I struggled.
It was one of those days where you wake up, see it's daylight and burst into tears because you already don't want to get out of bed for the day.
One of those days where you literally have to force your body to get the **** up and actually function enough to do things that need to be done.
You don't really know what is wrong. Nothing has happened.
Nothings horribly wrong.
Everything is just the same as it was a month ago at this time. But it feels so ******* different.
You try not to think about it though. Because that is the answer to everything right ?
To avoid.
To distract.
But today it is too heavy. It is everywhere. In the back of every single thought.
Of every single minute.
There it is.
And there it goes.
And here it comes again.
All. ****. Day.
You try to just make it to the end of the day. Smiling when you have to, trying your best to act like nothing is wrong, but people can see it today.
Something is noticeably off. And each and every time somebody asks you if you are okay, there is that smile and "yeah,I'm fine" when your mind is screaming "**** no help me".
As closing time is getting closer, you realize you don't know what to do after work because going home to an empty house, and an empty bed doesn't sound as good anymore.
You hit some people up. Try to find some plans that you may or may not go to.
You don't want to go out to the bar, you don't want to go home. You don't want to be alone, but you don't want to talk to people.
WHAT THE **** DO YOU WANT.
The answer is one simple word.
Nothing.
It's nothing.
you don't want to go anywhere.
Or do anything.
Or feel or think.
You need a minute to breathe.
To just catch your breath.
But every time you try and wave of emotions knocks you in the face like a wave in the ocean and pulls you out a little deeper and it just gets harder and harder to get a good gasp of air.
Everybody is out. Having fun. You aren't going to be fun right now and don't want to bring other people down too. So going out isn't an option.
But going home kinda makes you want to throw up.
You want someone to actually see you, but there is this mask you feel like you have to wear so nobody thinks you are "weak"
You just want to talk to somebody that knows how to make this a little better right now because you literally just need someone to tell you it's okay and you aren't completely crazy.
But you still haven't even learned how to **** to even ask for help.
Because you feel like it's not okay to not be okay right now.
Because things are better.
And you aren't where you were last year at this time. So you should be doing fine.
You aren't on drugs. Or homeless. You have a job.
So why do you still feel like this right now.
It could be worse. It could always be worse.
I know this.
I do.
but right now it just doesn't feel okay.
Nothing is particularly "wrong"
But nothing is right either and I don't even know how to explain why.
Because it doesn't make sense to me either, so I guess that makes me crazy? But that still doesn't make these thoughts settle down or just shut the **** up for one ******* second.
So you do what you always do.
And you shut down.
And maybe somebody will eventually see what your head has been screaming.
That all you have ever wanted was to actually be seen.

i used to love being alone
until i tasted you

being with you was like a drug that i just couldn’t get enough of
your breath filled my lungs with toxic smoke
an exhilarating rush with each hit
i became high off your scent
and drunk off the poison from your lips
your touch showered me in chemical intoxication
so strong that i forgot what it felt like to be sober

i was utterly helpless within your grasp
but, for once, i liked the feeling of letting go
i never realized how much my soul craved your presence
until it was time to give you up
but by then, the withdrawals had already kicked in

forgetting you meant that i had to cough out my own lungs
choking on the remnants of your breath
you had constricted my throat so tightly that i couldn't fathom breathing on my own
i forced my stomach to lurch and convulse in desperate attempts to rid my body of any trace of you
but in the process
i lost some of myself too

in the aftermath, there was nothing left but hollow ruins
my delicate body now wrecked with scars
leaving my entire being sore
trembling, and weak
so to heal the pain
i come back
because the drug was irresistible
i forget about the force it took to evict you from my lungs
because it’s easier to get lost in those dark abysmal eyes
eyes that swallowed me whole
and the softness of your touch was enough
to numb my aching body

but you'll never know what it feels like
because you’ve taken so many hits now, that you're immune to the highs
to you, I was simply one more drink to pass the time


x.

Meant to be a friend of those of lost
Teeth, collecting all calcium of baby
Moments falling out to the moment
Of growing youth. Now soon to be
Turning from a time of innocence.

But calcium of those pure of heart
Were not adhering to nature, staying
In longer no longer the rush of what
Was. Now a slow season of teeth falling
A fairy of white need her rush.

Forbidden from youth a line not to
Be crossed, but those of aged youth,
Teeth for the picking, an abundant
Supply of the white stuff. a glint in
The eyes of the bleached pegs.

In sleep they purged with sandman
Dust, blooded gums of what was once
A set. Now but a blooded mess, so
Many white taken even the yellow and
Black, crimson bled from every mouth.

Beware her with hunger in her eyes, of
Blooded gums, she craves what fell from
Innocence, but now feeds on any  that
Are pure or tainted to get her rush, Sleep
Soundly all, and keep your mouth shut.

Tastes good, doesn't it?
The fire burns your throat
as you chug a shot down.
The taste ain't sweet,
but the feeling sure is.
The drunker you get,
the higher you float.

"Can life always feel this good?"
The answer's no,
but you refuse to accept it.