I feel as though I am a slave to destruction, knees nailed to rickety floorboards that creak against creation. I am head bowed, pleading for pleasure against the cacophony of the ******, washing white floors with grime. I am the harbinger of ends, an omen of unhappiness. I am question marks, red streaks, spilled coffee on loved words. I am torment, tormented by the ways I’ve been tormenting the things I love. I am oceans inviting and striking with no warning, hurricanes gently shaking before swallowing and devastating, promise land offering refuge and whiting out identities because nobody gets to be free. I am shackled to remorse, self hatred, anxiety. A prisoner of pain, daughter of broken glass, born in spider breaks, marked by shards and splinters. I am the whisper of ruin rattled through crows calling home across worlds and realms. I am jutted bones cutting into flesh collecting blood for breakfast and sorrow for supper, feeding famine to families I am familiarly unfamiliar with. I am cast away, fallen angel, victim to the rise of hope and sequestered from safety. Left to forage fight in fields long forgotten, to discover decades of indecency and be punished by punishing the lucky ones. The thinned wrist souls slipping from restraints, to make commodity of clear consciouses, and deliver doom promised by our ancestors. I am an agent of misery, a companion of karma, nothing more than a slave to destruction.

There are things
I want to say
My voice betrays

I’d rather
Lie forever
Than hear
My voice quiver

I’d rather
Hide inside
Than break
My own heart

So you will never know
The things I want to say

And I will be safe...

And alone.

Luck is the way to success.
Love is the way to happiness.
Work is the way to both.
Suffering, suffering is the only way to greatness.

I see fragments.
I repair.
Make mistakes, and eat despair.

I crave freedom, I enslave,
I am as shallow as is my grave.

I learn and do and reproduce,
I give and take nothing in return.

I come from my fairy land,
To this ball of sea and sand.

It's a world that makes me sad,
That I wish I didn't understand.

My mind is a sinking ship
The world's set ablaze.
Holes punched throughout the hull;
Passengers drowned in a daze.

And her contents-
Well, they got claimed as
"Lost at Sea",
I guess no salvage crew
Ever saw what I could be.

Now I'm sitting far below
This thick sheet of blue.
The sun's light only shines once
Everyday, quarter to noon.

The quiet helps me think
As darkness swells within.
The ghosts roaming
These flushed halls
Are learning how to swim.

Now they've started a mutiny
To the captain's delight.
These spirits will all be free
Long before midnight.

The sun break's through the day after,
No wreckage to be found.
Everyone has floated up
To give life another round.

What is a love story if it isn't written in tears and hard-times  
what is love if not the days you can't stand each other but can't stand to be apart at the same time
so you lay watching the ceiling on separate sides of the bed while hands are still intertwined firmly
what is love if not the ear wrenching screaming and the bruised knees from the tumbles and turns
what is love if not the heart swelling affection you have for each other
that heals everything else
and the eyes that smile admirably at each other  
while the world seems to freeze and observe such as sight

I say,
if you have hate in your gut
Set it free
Make me the outlet
for I have the depths
of the sea
And the little drops
of venom
won't matter to me