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Jesse stillwater Sep 2018
a poet's simple truth:


' the only thing that makes you live
is silently killing you trying to let it go '


Just thinking out loud: parsing the raw truth veiled in a poet's blood —
*will* to be creative has abandoned at the moment; unable to rejuvenate as light lessens daily, prompting to take some time away from whatever it is i've been doing here ... for now,  i'll just be listening
through the window of the silent pages ...
Jesse Stillwater
maledimiele Aug 2018
I licked you cautiously with precision
Licked until your sharp edges were round and soft
Indulged in that millisecond, I let my mind wander off to the imagination of licking and actually swallowing you
Sweet imaginary drops of melted sticky sugary matter were dripping down my esophagus
You were dancing in my throat like a delicate ballerina
Tiptoeing, Floating.

Then reality hit in again and my tongue drawed back like it just touched a hot range
My esophagus felt clogged. Your pungent taste was burning holes into my throat-
So I used my fingers like a plunger to **** you out again.

I purged dark matter all over the white bathroom tiles
Tried to extinguish salty burning tears with stomach acid
You smelled sweet and savory at the same time.

I’m sorry for drowning the rest of you in the toilet.
But they say “nothing good ever lasts long enough” for a reason.
You see, love is a battlefield and I’m Napoleon.
LD Goodwin Oct 2017
Do I escape here
To my cave
My therapist
My priest
An ear
Does anyone hear
Listen
Care

Is it just minutia
words that get moved around the page
like dust bunnies swirling in the noonday sun
why do I want you to know what goes on in here
inside this cerebral mass
why do I want you to witness the excising of my existence
the vomiting
purging
lancing of these boils
the expressing of **** glands
emptying the dark places
only to fill them up again

I have always wanted to write down my feelings
what I see......emphasis on “I”
I always have felt that I see it differently than you
Not egotistically speaking,
but that I see it the way this mass of cells called Larry sees it

Hello
It is me in here
The one speaking to you now
And if you are reading this
Thank you for listening
I arose early......this is what you get.
All the things we do,
For illness,
To make ourselves worse;
It fuels the pain,
But we know we're just going back again.

What's the use?
Why not lose when there's
Nothing left
To win?
We give in,
Just so that this nothingness can win.

It's fine,
You're going to survive,
But do you completely want to?
Maybe you can't decide,
So instead you hide it inside.

You're told to get better,
But what does that mean?
It means you stop acting,
You get over it eventually.
Really?
Maybe if you're careful;
Find a way to fix yourself;
Make sure you don't break again.

Now move forward,
It's been a few years,
That's what everyone thinks.
You're all good now,
Even you believe,
At last you can do anything
-except what you were doing,
That is.
Avoid it like the plague,
To try to stay safe,
Although really you try creeping back,
Just to catch a glimpse of something
You know you shouldn't be looking at.

Then you wonder
About sending yourself back:
To the days in Hell,
The fight for escape,
Waiting for it to be over,
To be left alone.
**** the actions first,
Then learn how to cope
Without what you were destroying yourself with.

You're fine for now,
At least you guess you are,
Only you're surrounded by sorrow,
The misery with bouts of
Alright, just great.
But darkness lurks around the corner,
So will you follow,
Or do what you're supposed to be continuing with?

You want control,
Part of you wants to feel something,
Other than these emotions,
To stop hearing these thoughts,
And press stop on the memories,
Because with the present it hurts you,
Damaging - like what doesn't exist.

One time, go on:
Repeat like you used to,
What's the reason not to
When you just feel like you're lacking
Some of what you need?
And what is that?
The truth, surrender,
A cease to all this,
Someone else to leave?

You know it will push you somewhere,
Into a harsh reality
But one you hope that might be different,
From the one that pains you,
Even if you'll be guilty.
You'll have the satisfaction
Of finally
Doing something.
Again. You said never again,
But that wasn't true,
Did you even mean that?
You wonder as you retake
Your past baleful steps.

It doesn't own the same reasons
This time.
You just want to prove your
Destructive existence to yourself,
Even though you miss your
Dissociation from reality.
Maybe because if you do it,
It means you're not one hundred percent,
Just don't let anyone know,
Why should it harm anyone,
Except you because that's the whole issue?

It's okay though,
You've figured it out,
Like you always knew,
You were only kidding yourself,
You know you'd have to live
With the unhelpful effects,
It doesn't need to be any harder,
Than it already is.
liebling Dec 2016
I can't tell why
I'm crying
anymore

Where are my tears coming from?
Are they coaxed out by the fingers down my throat, coming up with the acids in my stomach?
Or are they because of the pain leading me to do this to myself?

Blurring things together,
Making my reflection as distorted
and fat
and bloated
as I am in my mind

I can feel the flesh settled on my bones.
The fat waiting there,
wishing I could skim it off with a knife
I know it must be as soft
as butter

why am I doing this
why am I crying
why am I killing myself from the inside

I can't tell why
I'm dying
anymore
12/29/2016
Silver Lining Sep 2016
I remember the first time..
It crept in,
so quiet
so gentle.
Like how the sky goes black.

But this time it's like a
tsunami, a flash flood
a freefall.

I'm standing on a roof
and suddenly I'm flying through the air
the ground below rising  up to meet me
as my brain assures me
"Just this once is okay."
"You'll be just fine."
Jillian Avery Feb 2016
Momma notice me.
Momma can’t you see
there are tears in my eyes,
and scars on my thighs.
You see the blood
and you know it’s not mud
Momma help me
I’m all ******
I’m going to die
Don’t deny,
you know why
Momma,
look in my bed
I’m already dead.
And you didn’t even say goodbye
Jillian Avery Feb 2016
When I say this.

When I say this I mean I’m dying

When I say this it means

last night I probably puked so much I passed out

or cut so much I had to stitch myself together

maybe I don’t even remember what happend last night

maybe I

maybe I am trying to ask for help

Maybe I’m still a ****** up from the pills I took last night

Maybe I drank so much I’m not sure what’s happening now.

Maybe I did shots before heading to school today

Maybe I tried to **** myself but I just couldn’t do it

Maybe I’m contemplating the easiest way to **** myself

I’m fine though, really.

Everyone has their problems

I just need to **** it up.

I’m sorry.

I’m fine.
Overload caffeine
No food
Too many pills
Workout for hours
No sleep
****** nights with steel
Gaging meals in the bathroom
Blackout drunk
Loss of hope
Loss of fear
Loss of self
What lies ahead.
I make my own hell
But instead of being near the ground, it's in the sky
Some times I love it for what it can tell
Yet other times it might cause me to cry

Help was given than taken away
Because that thing floating in the heavens
Is trying so hard to get everything inside itself at bay
My sanity could be lost because of what happens at seven
I don't believe I ever truly thought, sadly, I was going to leave these kind of things behind. I don't plan on getting help, even though I should. Why does my brain work like this? Why do I work like this ? I should be able to function normally, with normal situations, but it all turns to **** it seems. I am so very confused.
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