Here I am laying on the floor,
Locked all the doors.
I cut and drank,
The ship already sank.

I’ll do it again,
I feel so **** shaken.
Hurting and numb all over,
It would be worse if I was sober.

When they call me to come down,
I’ll drag myself up and wipe the frown.
Won’t be a difficult child,
To my pain, everyone is blind.

What would have happened if I knocked on their door,
With blood running down my thighs.
Letting them see what I was going through,
Would I have been on the bus the next day.
On the way to school,
Wondering if anyone cared .
Would I be here now,
I know they would have gotten me extreme help.
And maybe I would have gotten that help,
Maybe I wouldn’t be cutting still,
Wondering if anyone cares .

Slicibg through like a knife,
Filling you with invisible wounds
As you quietly bleed out.

He was there, just where you wouldn’t expect him – typical Jesus. There he was selling the Big Issue while chatting with mates. I was just walking round to Sainsbury’s to pick up some milk.
I couldn’t stop, I had to get back for my 2 o’clock.
If I’d known he’d be there I’m not sure what I would have done – maybe gone the other way. You know what it’s like, you just want to get on, but he has this way of getting you to slow down. It just takes up your time.
So there he was. He knew I’d seen him, even though I kept my head down and kept walking, checking I had a carrier. It really bugs me when I forget and I need to decide whether to buy another bag for life or act casual with a two pint-er hanging from a finger, despite the numbing cold. I’m not sure if I felt relieved or guilty that he didn’t call out. I could see he was busy. It’s no big deal.  We’d catch up another time.  
As I queued for the self-service, I wondered if he’d still be there, and if he was, would it be impolite to just nod and keep walking. I had that meeting. I’d said I’d be back in time. And I really wanted to have enough leeway to make a cup of tea and get my head in the right space.
I was just thinking through my options when he popped up beside me as I swiped my nectar card. ‘Hey, matey,’ he smiled. ‘Can I walk with you? I know it’s a working day, so I won’t slow you down.’
I felt like he’d read my mind – maybe he had.  I made a neutral sound, something like a casual agreement and we walked. I wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t end up taking all afternoon, so I thought I’d best say nothing.  
He kept his word and didn't slow me down. We walked and he talked about the stabbing. Everyone was. Noone I knew. A guy in his thirties just outside Sainsbury’s. He had walked to the Grosvenor, and they tried to help but it was too late for him. The police camped out all the following day.
I nodded, not seeing the point of adding anything. Like I said, it wasn’t like I knew him.
When we got to the corner, where the police tape still floated attached to the lamppost, he took my shoulder and made me pause. Then he gave me a hug.
You know his hugs – like warm memory foam. I really needed to get back for that call, but instead I stood and sobbed, like he knew I needed to.
Blast. That really messed up my plans for the afternoon.

A friend so fair and bright,
With words that cut like a knife.
They'd stab me in the back,
With lies and deceit in their track.

Their smiling face, a mask of deceit,
Their heart, a pit of greed and hate.
They'd take my trust, and break my heart,
With every word, they'd tear us apart.

Their loyalty, a mirage in the sand,
Their friendship, a poisoned brand.
They'd whisper lies in my ear,
And laugh as I shed a tear.

But still, I'd hold on to the hope,
That one day, they'd change their scope.
That they'd see the harm they've done,
And make amends, before the sun.

But alas, it's just a dream,
For they are lost in their own scheme.
And I am left to weep and mourn,
The loss of a friend, forever torn.

My little lover,
Honed steel wielded to my flesh
As your hands restrict
Mar my skin,
I implore

My little lover,
I beseech my lifes water
To know the folds of your tongue
To ******* lineage
After it has bred with your saliva

Oh my little lover,
Not all is of sword unto sheath
Though your seed could flood my gardens;
Not all is of drowning
Or of blooming

Oh God,
My little lover
I beg for that which is wielded
To whiten my flesh
In the silhouette of your name

Enjoy little things in life
While you can
Before ended by Death's knife
Interrupting plan

I used to hide all day
Escaping problems that pursued
Leaving behind obstacles in my way
I am the one surroundings exclude

There is no shortcut to happiness
On this earth tread upon
We pass on a great big mess
To bury after you're gone

I will claw through tunnels
Until I find rightful place
Help you with your struggles
Cradled in my embrace

Until my wick rekindles yours
Reanimates you
Makes heart pound
Will crawl through soil and explore
Dig you out from the ground

The tomb intended for me instead
Buried you to save my soul
To end madness in my head
Dying
Thoughts swallowing whole

I walk this road of ruptured dreams
Softness fading from fingertips
Savoring warm remnants of bright sunbeams
Light out of my grasp slowly slips

It all feels like a craft of love,
a tight fit in my eyes naked views
A beautiful body of work,
grinding my gears to a halt,
At a place of it being wore out in perfection,
the once new smell, becomes as creased
as my socks.

But even with its imperfections,
the painting still manages to wiggle
its way into my heart, leaving a lasting
impression that I can't shake.

It's like a tapeworm inside of me,
recording every beat of my heart and
every thought in my mind.
I try to pull it out, but it's no use.
The painting has become a part of me,
a part of my soul that I can't let go of.

And even though it brings me pain at times,
I can't help but smile. It's like a silly game
that I can't resist, a game that brings me joy
and laughter even in the darkest of times.
So I'll keep it close to my heart, like a knife in my mouth,
ready to cut open a crack of a smile whenever I need it most.