teeth sunk into the flesh
of a lover,
white dress, pure.

crimson, like roses,
like blood
both intoxicating;
sweet, sickly

eyes blazing,
like fire.
raging with hatred
that fills the heart of
a broken down soul

the promises that were made,
abandoned, like the lover
you left at the alter  

                                                        ­      ( “i do” , as love spews,                                                     with blood
                                                           ­           out of the wounds
                                                          ­    that your hands claw at)

A puzzle piece doesn't fit
into a place that isn't theirs

So stop
Trying to fit
Into places you don't
Belong
Stop
Trying to squeeze
Into spaces you don't
Fit in
Stop
Altering yourself;
Cutting,
Trimming,
The pieces that make
You
Just to fit into skin
That isn't
Yours

Because no matter how hard you try

A puzzle piece never fits
into a place that isn't theirs

Believe me,
I've tried

abandoned at the alter--
or just abandoned.
I have nothing to hold on to
except the tatters
of this deceased
laced satin, this crumpled
veil, covering hope and covering light.
one shoe, its matching partner had scuffs to
begin with--what a fraud.
white is supposed to be the color of new beginnings
and black is for funerals--
but I guess white is the new black,
I'm left to fend by myself, nothing
to celebrate--
the cake was too pretty to be eaten
anyway.

and don't you know it,
we're all in our wedding dresses,
looking abstractly at broken watches,
dust-filled corners,
waiting for the groom
that will never
come.

It's real, this is very real.
This is not your haunted mansion at the amusement park.
This is not the shadows you see under your bed.
This is very real, the voice in my head.
And it's telling me about the bloodstains
Left on silken sheets,
not the blood of a ******, but the blood of a corpse.

I feel so old
yet I'm so young
I can tell you stories upon stories,
experience upon experience
yet I'm always craving more.
Lying awake on those 2 AM-can't sleep to save my life-nights,
all I have is guilt on my mind.
I've been through so much,
but my mother has been through much more at the hands of me.
Why must I have a wild soul?
Why do I love to alter my mind?
Why?
It hasn't become a problem,
though it could at any time, I'm sure.
People don't go altering themselves with the intent of getting addicted, but it happens more times than not.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
I believe it's because I want out of this world.
My soul screams through my chest to be let go, released into oblivion.
Yet I cannot abide by this request, so I drudge on another day, beverage in hand, pop a pill, escape escape escape.

No longer
do I find joy
in the faces I see every day
and the voices I hear
around me
Looming clouds
have altered my vision
and now
nothing here is my own
and I do not live here
and I am not of this town
Perhaps all I had
was never mine to begin with
and now
I am lost
in a sea of doubt

Come worship at my alter.
She spreads her honey soft and sweet.
Come worship at the alter.
She lays upon the sheets.
Come to me with all your anger.Come to me all enraged.
And I will gladly take you over, and make of you my slave.
Come kiss me long and warm.
Come sing your love to me.
Come lay upon the roses soft ,and drink my nectar sweet.
Come crush my petals close to you
Come bleed upon my thorns
Come softly stealing my life's breath,
Come take me without warning.
And with your knife,
within my cup,
and with the blossoms bare,
you'll lay upon my alter
and leave our two hearts there.