Morbid curiosity, flesh and bone.
Bittersweet attraction that we condone.
As we watch in horror and excitement,
The tragedy of love, twisted and bent.
Hopelessly hopeful, a despairing moan.

Misery, tragedy and broken hearts,
Exhilaratingly phenomenal!
Of bleeding, smiling, and laughing from darts,
Pierced hearts, frantically hysterical.

Oh so bittersweet, this reality!
Chasing cars and pushing up the daisies.
It's human nature of intensity,
To admire delicate, sweet butterflies.
That's a sign of death's possibility.

My mood is a helter-skelter
An endless series of ups and downs
There is no shelter
From this litany of smiles and frowns
There is no middle
What is today?
Just an endless riddle
Sunny or Gray? Cloudy or Gay?
One thing I know for sure
I will just have to let it be
For me there is no cure
It’ll never set me free

So let your mind dance
Entranced
Enhance your perception
Advance your selection
And
Grasp what you want
Rise
Enticed
And try to be whole
Wander
While wondering
Fondly
Take control
And hold on to life
Because life
Is a wonderous thing
Now think
What does that mean?
That question seems to be
Right now the biggest ******* thing
You know what it means to me
**** it you all mean something to me
Why must we fight
About whats right
And who has the right to live
We know this ****
Move on you *****
We've all mattered all along
The world is always changing
And we must follow suit
Always and ever evolving
Learn from what we've been through
Take a hold of destiny
And write our stories anew
These thoughts of mine
Are strange indeed
I've forgotten where we're going
Oh well
**** it
I'm out.
The rest is not worth knowing

I'm sorry that I'm a wreck,
I cry for no reason at all
I talk too fast,
I can't get out of bed sometimes,
I laugh so hard at nothing.

I'm sorry that I don't even understand it,
I can't explain to you how I feel,
I feel different every week,
I can't control my emotions,
I cope by cutting my own skin.

I'm sorry that it's hard to be my friend,
I don't want to talk sometimes,
Sometimes I talk so much,
I don't want to be friends sometimes,
Sometimes I just want to be friends.

I'm sorry that I'm not like your other friends,
I don't take jokes like others,
I take things too personally,
You have to watch what you say,
I am sensitive.

I'm sorry I'm not normal,
I'm not funny,
I'm not fun to be around,
I'm not happy,
I'm not sad.

I'm sorry I don't focus on you,
I don't ask about you enough,
I don't make you feel better,
I don't talk about you long enough,
I'm selfish sometimes.

I'm sorry.

Maniacally,
The days and nights
Bleed together
Into a time frame
The insane
Tap into
That's a lot like infinity.
Vampiracally,
The years of
Infinity
Bleed together
Into an abysmal
Spiral
Of insanity.
Supernaturally,
Are our states of being.
How well
We blend in
With a dismal
Arrangement
Of plain people
In trains,
Checking their wrists
For the time
As they travel
Physically.
Naturally,
The three of us
Are bound to meet
At some point.
Tapping into
Hidden goldmines
Of psychological
Nuggets
That gleam
With prosperity,
As everything
Melts together
Again.
Everything is sacred.
Everything is connected.
Mining
For hidden connections
Ought to excavate
Feelings of wonder.
The caverns filled
With complex crystals
Of energetic
Freethought
Have long been
Paved over
By trains and
Linear brains
Improving on their
Transistors.
Maniacally and
Vampiracally,
The days and nights
Bleed together,
While the world below
Bustles about;
We appear to be
Just like one of them.
We may even check
Our watch.
Our conditions
Are congruent
In that they are
Nothing less than
Supernatural.

my internal therapist is telling me to not write this poem
to not dwell on damaged thoughts, there's no fixing them, dear.
so maybe not.
maybe i'm not writing this poem to try to fix my broken thoughts
maybe i just want peace maybe i am hurting and writing this poem is the only way i know how to wade through the swamp of pain you've thrown me in
two years ago this week, i was getting ready to see my sister marry her best friend
i was bright eyed, had a mane of hair i couldn't tame, excited about life
i was joking with some new friends i'd made about one of them crashing the wedding
i was about to meet Anxiety for the first time
now here i am, shorter hair, sitting with my laptop perched upon sweatpant clad, starved, legs, my fingers not moving fast enough over the keys, i'm tired.
Anxiety and I have taken our relationship to the next level and he visits me often, particularly at night when I'm thinking about you
Anxiety gets jealous, punishes me, forces me to think about your words while suffocating me
i'm tired
i'm afraid that lies about me still flood your mind and i can't change that
i want to talk to you, have a conversation, ask you why
i've apologised and still i will say i am sorry because i am
why do you loathe me so much
i've had people tell me to get over myself, over you, over the situation and i'm trying
but i've never had someone do what you did to me and i'm hurting still this pain i wonder, did you intentionally do it to bring me down?
you've must've known what with my history of attention seeking self harming downward spiral
i never did it for attention
i've taken to numbing myself, last night i dug around my art supplies box for the set of extra blades my sister in law gave me for my pencil sharpener for christmas
i'm not sharpening anything, there isn't anything to sharpen
my friend tells me not to do it, that it doesn't do me any good long term
because that's what i'm dealing with right? long term pain?
sleepless nights and anxiety attacks
sadness i can't escape from
saying no when my niece asks me to play sorry willow i'm tired i'm so tired
so maybe my blades won't bring me long term salvation
maybe two years in therapy won't help but that's okay i was in there anyway for the big mess of my life that you told me to get over
maybe i don't care and am going to treat my thighs as cutting boards because temporary sanity is sanity and i've lost my head as it is
my therapist on wednesday will tell me to forget you
and i will try
and i will fail
i don't know why i'm writing this poem
i'm a crazy believer in better things
how this poem will make things better is beyond me but hey
sue me for trying to see hope in the little things
how artless of me
the artist in me, pain(ting)
-
-z.z

You don't know what to now
Because they've 'fixed' you
And you can 'live' again

But the pain remains
The addiction
The affliction
The vengeance
The rage
The impulse
So you stop taking the meds
To start to live again
The way you love and know how

**** this ****!
You are Insane
You are Sadistic and Suicidal
A Psychopath and Manic
**Just embrace it