First love
My mom is a seismologist,
Knowing my heart is a plate, placed in core of my soul,
When I had a crash, my world cracked disaster,
She noticed a fall in my Epicenter,
Love grasped me with both nailed hands, bleeding
Believing.

It's all a matter of habit
Nails biting
Lips moving
Hands shaking
We can't control what controls us
It is feeling powerless that breaks us inside

This stress
I can't take
anymore
with
no doors
With no way
to escape
wood scratches
nails break
screaming
for some help
darkness finds
this a joke
the only humorous
part
I brought this
upon myself

people write poems
about subjects
such as him.

with painted nails,
glittering eyes,
polished skin,

he is like poetry
about women
with lipstick
the color
of sin.

and as he drinks
his wine, they
will sit and write
poems about
subjects such
as him.

I am like cheap nail polish;
When first applied into a person's life I appear fresh, neat, immaculate.
But the next day I am chipped, broken, hurting.
It's not you, it's just the way you see me.
I put on a fresh coat to please you and make me seem fine.
But it's no good.
I'm not fine.
The new coats won't hide me forever.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Tomorrow I'll apply a fresh coat.
Tomorrow I'll be fine again.

Writing on The Walls
A bloodstained handprint
Are you alive to see this
Do your eyes pierce now?
Where the soul sees a mirror?
Oh God why cant they see
Why can't they see
The writing on the walls

Wed like to stay blind
But the rest wont last
Time to break a flatline
And wakeup from your bed

Pray now
You fall on your knees in grief
Do you see what you've been doing?
Do you see what you have left?
Another bloodstained hand print
The writings on the walls

Wed like to stay blind
But the rest wont last
Time to break a flatline
And wakeup from your bed

Press your face to the floor
Don't leave your posture
Don't move a muscle
Your eyes see it now don't they?
You can't hide
The Writings on the wall
The Writings on the wall
The Writings on the wall

The Writings...