We are married to pain.
A harrowing relationship of toxicity.
A forever maelstrom of “why me”.
Look at you, begging for death to come earlier than planned.
It’s like staring at the knife to do the deed for you.
It’s like feeling grief for the first time with no solace.
It’s like choking on your own ***** while gasping for air.
ill with sorrow.
Knotted with no release.
Kissing the barrel of a gun.
Lust with no body to touch.
You are sick, you never get better, but they say it gets better, trust me it gets better.
Glass in your mouth, cutting your cheeks every time you force a smile.
It’s the bottom of an empty bottle that didn’t drown your feelings.
An emptiness of a bottomless abyss.
A sinking hole in a heart that’s decaying.
Seeing in black and white in a place full of color.
Numbness like the anesthesia you beg for so you don’t feel, can’t cry, can’t hurt.
It’s forever, it’s now, and tomorrow and tonight, for hours, and months, and days.
It never ends, it never stops.
Pain until you see black.
Pain until people cry over your lifeless body.
Pain until crows pick at your flesh.
Pain until you rot.
Pain until life stops.
And then pain creeps into the lives of those who cared for you, now they feel the pain.
Pain is a disease.
Pain is torment.

Tell me again, what did I do to deserve perpetual torture?

I like the way you say my name.
It’s the only resonance I need as I lay alone in the onyx night.
I miss you the most when I feel insignificant.
Maybe just maybe, you’ll think of me when I’m not around.
Maybe you’ll remember how much you aroused my heart.
I cherished you more than I did my own sanity.

Alarm clock, you ****!
I get angry and strike
the top of your head
as if you were a misbehaved child
and I was your grandmother
One, two, one more to go
I have to sleep more
Before I give you the time of day

Covers crinkled, stretching my toes
I roll my head to see my dresser.
It's not the clothes I need from inside it,
but rather the meds that lie on top of it.
Unscrew, pop, swallow, smile and nod
as I look at my reflection in the mirror
"Today is going to be a good day."

Living like a shadow
Being the odd one out
Remarkable yet unremembered
Floating in my daydreams
Fighting off reality
Forgetting my priorities
Getting carried away
By life's necessities
And blending into the crowd
At the oddest moments
When sticking out is beneficial

What does one do when the characters you hate
Are the ones you best construe?
Misgivings and flaws you can relate
To, tho venerable traits you eschew,

The green light gazers and "architect" praisers
Familial leeches or the confessor who preaches
That awareness absolves one of sin,
Compromisers and self-named kaisers
Resound and reverberate within

They pass by in my pages to be mocked and scorned
As evil, cruel, an oaf, or a tool
Too low to respect or too high on their horse
Despicable, maniacal, mediocre, or worse

And I do hate their vileness, I do hate their flaw
I want to shake them and claw at their skull
For nothing more than the gleam of recognition
That by some misfortune of natural law
They and I share a need for contrition.

I'm bound by thin shackles, thick ones too,
My mind is held hostage and how I try to escape,
My body may move, yet the Chains of History keep me bottled, I can't forget the ghosts of my past; the traps I so blindly walked into,
How they love to linger,
As a painful reminder of my regrets and remorse,
They speak to me, like every rose to its thorn,
They bind tighter,
I smile.
For with them,
I am Complete.

"Mama said gonna be all right
But mama don't know what it's like in my mind
Mama said that the sun gonna shine
But mama don't know what it's like to want to die"

I'm not gullible, you know.
I know second chances
are just excuses.
I know I have to stop counting the stars for those
who wouldn't even stay up to see them glow.
I know.

I can't keep breaking myself to fit their template,
to make them feel perfect.
I know I need to start burning bridges
with the match that has always stayed unlit through my temperance.
I know.

I need to stop looking through rose-colored lenses.
I always hoped that when I took them off,
nothing would change.

But maybe it's good that
I finally see what has really been in front of me.

The time would be 3:00, had it not been hidden behind the countdown
10
9
8
The wavering vrrrrrrrrrrrrr of the microwave is not enough to wake
The naive parental mind, causing the ideal image to break
7
6
5
The ping
Of the microwave waits
4
Torn between warmth and fear
3
2
It is this moment when the panic sets in,
lunges
for the door

and

stabs
the miniature metallic square
The pop of door
The stench of soggy noodles

And so she is safe

Until another 3:00