I knew it would hurt if I let you touch me, but I didn't care.
I'm self destructive and I love the pain.

Don’t look too closely at her eyes
or you will see the truth.
Blue eyes made of stars show a girl:
happy
pretty
caring
Look past the beauty and see through:
sad
hatred
destructive
All to herself.
If eyes are truly the windows to the soul.
Make sure you don’t look in,
and see the secrets this girl hides.

I suppose you could call me the epitome of destructive.

Number insides;

I am lighter fluid and absinthe.

All those whom I look forward to,

Perish at an age no older than 30.
Sunken deep by the crippling bones of creativity.
Why must creative convert to gloom?

Would you call yourself the poster child for anti-depressants?
When was the last time you held the shards in hand

and looked upon your perfect skin with tremors?

Just dying to let the living out.


Sit perched to the moon awaiting a calling

that came in a figure of an *******.

Sometimes I speak to you of my troubles

Just to know you’ll get off my back.


Do you know if it wasn’t for your slippery hands
trying to mumble their way through steel caps

I might of died that night?
Inches away from the edge
you crudely pointed at your own meter
that ticked against the pavement
awaiting pennies to be dropped.

You’d offer your calling card of cannabis and magic fingers,
line the body with your palm
and hold it against the skin.

Tell me I was beautiful just until the hand hit 10

and you’d say
I was the epitome of destructive.

I craved presence and dreamt of intimacy:
of arms wrapped tight around me in the darkness
and lips like wildfire scorching throughout my skin.

Of midnight drives and trips to crowd-less theaters,
chafed balaclavas and pseudo-****** sprees.

Of laughter and a smile not like the sunlight
but the moon's: enigmatic, forlorn, lonely.

Of self-destruction and notorious luxuries,
and hands, laced against my own,
comforting, solid,
a drop of water in the desert.

(A kind of love that could give me what I wanted,
and what I wanted was oblivion.)

Stare through the barrel like a telescope
It’ll show you all you need to know
And take you plummeting down, down
Where you always knew you’d go

Walking the dawn in darkness
Passing the synthesis of stars
Who could you be looking for
On an hour shrouded in vice?

Do you seek the dame in bruises?
The dame who you shunned to do no harm?
The months may pass you by
But not your fears or your tears

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate

Your eyes were quivering so
Your lips were sealed by your own will
You dared not ***** your hands
Just glance and wear a smile or two

But now as the fool is raging
You fear that the dame may turn down life
As you considered once
When you sunk down all those years ago

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate

Do you wish to remain faithful
To your newfound passion for life?
Is that why you hope to reach out
Just this one time?

When you were a child
Your heart was shattered by violence
Cornering you into a hall of chains
Now you fear that there are other hearts out there
Running on the edge of despair
Could that be why

This time
The cries are not your own
This time
You feel the need to compensate
For the distance that you made
To protect yourself from pain

Tonight
You have condolences to give
Tonight
You feel the need to chip at the ice
Before you turn and run
With no more ties to this crumbling estate