I’m sorry world

For delivering a girl

Who is weak and naive

With her mind in a whirl

With her heart in a box

That may never be unlocked

I’m a broken

torn-up

terrified girl

But what can I say?

As I hold the blade

This is a broken

torn-up

terrified

World.

I’m better at hiding

These tears I’ve been crying

This skin I’ve been slicing

My soul that is dying.

I’ve gotta keep lying

Gotta push you back

That way you won’t know

There’s a rope around my neck.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry I let you down

I’m sorry

I’m sorry I never came around

I’m sorry

I’m sorry I pushed you away

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I wish you would stay

But it can’t be that way

I’ll **** you

You’re my prey

I miss you

I need you

But you have to stay away

I’ll hurt you

Like I do

Every single day

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

It has to be this way.

Please be strong

And crack my walls

Break them down

And make them fall

Dissolve

My unbreakable shields of fear

All the feelings

I hold so dear

Inside my head

They seem so strong

The dark gravel road

To my walls

Prolongs

You’ll always be walking

So pick up the pace

Please make the effort

To win this race

Against the road

I'm going to go that way
Don't wait for me
Tomorrow I'm touring
The country
You said was boring
I'm not waiting for you
I'm searching for my next heartache
Under the rock
I'll find it
Then we can make amends
My friend
Don't mock me
Until then we can never get along
There's a fork at the end of my road
Nobody tell me where to go
I don't intend to listen now

Feeling isolated,
sometimes
i don't feel as though I'm the type to make it
angsty anxious
soul sedated
so I type to make it

self described as the greatest
self described overrated
self prescribed medication
self denies that exploitation

this could be the "realest **** i ever wrote"
yet its honestly nothing more than mental notes
reminders that I'm not dead yet
remind me when I'm dead, yet
come find me when my head's set
solidly on my shoulders

don't know why I'm so sick of being HERE...
my mental state's constantly all over

I'm often sought for "good advice"
often thought of "being right"
"living life"
well
while you whisper "listen" without thinking twice
I whimper at the thought of life
misheard, disregard me in the spotlight
cuz... dawg... my soapbox full of termites..

don't wanna preach to the choir
don't wanna talk to the congregation
and I'm sure with all these blunts I'm facin
I'm bound to be famous
isn't that how it works...?
or am i..
bound to be facin
blunt truths
and
those famous cliches
we love to hate

why I'm sending love every which way?
when that love always comes back as a switchblade?
that cuts so deeply
given a forewarning, yet left in dismay, as to say
"now this may hurt..."
"but learned lessons..-"
-THEY DON'T LESSEN ****
my scars have stories but trust me, being scarred is a different story
I'm still sore where that passion burnt

lately I've been wondering if writing is rather vain work
combined with this lack of passion its got me questioning my body and whether veins work
or not
regardless when you blowing wind; you should know my weather vane works
a lot
but most of the time
i try to find
justifications
to my observations-
"-yoooooo everyone deserves a second chance b"
but I'm simply asking
how long do your seconds last?, see
the last time I was "stuck in the moment"
I grasped on tight and tried to slow it,
but there's no escaping the fact
that things come and go
seasons change
from summer sun to falling leaves and rain, then snow
...
listen... falling leaves a back broken..
but while lying there staring
blank into the dimly lit ceiling
snapped in half,
i realized that
the hardest part about the ego and letting go
is having to say, "sorry i was just stuck in the past.."

what kinda **** is that.....

She is suffering.
Her energy is draining.
Day by day, little by little
Her thoughts are going deeper
Deeper and deeper as the oceans.
She is fighting within herself
But sadness always dominate.
Starting to isolate herself
Never going out with friends
Always have her own reasons not to
This and that, No because
Really isolating herself
Face always at the web
Posting and liking things
Things she wish to be glued
Glued to her mind and soul
But all she wants is someone
Someone to push her to encourage her
But no one sees it, no one feels it.
All of her thoughts
She is always fighting it
She knows she could make it
She knows she could change
But at this moment
She needs time, longer time
She wants to be alone
She wants to escape
She wants to sleep for a long time
She wants to cry
But time wouldn't allow her to
All she could do is to isolate herself
Isolate to protect herself
Isolate for her to be strong
Isolate for her to realize
Realize that to isolate herself is not the answer.
Never the answer.

"usted es un borracho!"


"si."


the medicine cabinet creaks
to a close.
oaxaca mescal and glass;
temporary relief at last.
lit shadows deluge through
open doors open windows
nothing left hidden,
curved lines on his sluggish brown;
corse grey all over his sluggish brown
how did you fall in the routine?
how did you grieve?
homesick to the home you now cry in
eyes droopy and slurring yells
to make it dry inside
oaxaca mescal and glass;
temporary relief at last.
crossroads of hollow love
bear through another man.
cement and tiles cold
bare skin sprawling in on all fours,
more sips to cure.
oaxaca mescal and glass;
temporary relief at last.
splashes of many bottles
he doesn't mind,
he's done it before as if countless times,
but with others now forgotten.
dark crescent in the sky
marks where he toasted to himself
darkness seizes another sadness
to how he compromised.
oaxaca mescal and glass;
temporary relief at last.