“we break things not just as a means of release but also to see
some other thing broken aside from ourselves.”*
You asked me how
I got my hand broken
And I told you it’s
because the walls aren’t
getting any weaker
I am tired of trying hard
and I’m too worn out to fight
I am fed up with
all the things
I used to love
so I’ve been thinking ’bout
taking my life
but I see the walls
are all around
and I get the urge
to let it out
and so i do…
If I can no longer speak,
the walls would
they’d tell you a story
on how I turn
into something else
when I’m sad,
and how they stop me
when I’m not
in the right mind
and they’d tell you about
these little scars I have,
and all of the frustrations
I’m keeping inside.
You asked why and
I told you,
’cause they hear me,
when no one else will
and they feel it all,
every inch of my skin
when I lay it on them
so if walls could speak,
they’d tell you how I
to hurt me
every single night.
You are a tornado.
You spin anyone too close to you, leaving them in a dizzy fit.
You break them before they break you.
No wonder I thought I loved you.
A tornado like me.
Promising trouble at every turn.
You whispered, "I love you".
Presenting it with secrecy.
Holding me hostage with twisted logic.
I am a tornado, I admit it.
And two tornados only bring more chaos.
I'm self-destructive but, you're too much for me.
Your lips were drowned in chloroform.
And I kissed you for the burn.
The same way I smoke cigarettes to pollute my lungs.
We drag each other to hell.
Shoot each other's hearts.
Naming it love, so we don't have to call it "just ***".
You were always too much for me.
Too much chaos.
In return, I was presented with such little love.
We wrapped up each other's hearts.
Hid them in the shelves.
And danced away our summer days in my sheets.
Them: Depression feeds off all this isolation
Me: But what I do in it, is the only thing that delays my impulses
Them: Use coping skills.
Me: The only coping skills that work are the ones that destroy me
Them: You feel so lonely because you put up a wall and block people out
Me: I feel so lonely because people never approach me to see if I'm okay
Them: Don't think too much, it brings you down
Me: I can't help but think too much, my mind never turns off and the gears are always turning.
Them: Stop looking at violence
Me: But it helps with the anger inside my head
Them: Just keep having faith, having hope
Me: Faith is an illusion and hope is a lie
Them: You will make it through this and then you can live your life
Me: I will live through this until it will take my life
Them: You can never return to a memory, don't think of the past
Me: But memories are all I have that might bring me a small smile of happiness to my face
Them: I can help you, you just have to let me
Me: I have let you and your words depress me even more
Them: There is a point where we can't help you, you're going to have to save yourself.
Me: And that is why there was never hope
Them: You will live and have a better life soon
Me: I have lived and they all tell me you can't go back to memories
Them: You are alive
Me: I died far before they found me lying on the ground in the room
I love the wind’s howling.
The breath of God surrounds me.
It’s angry and loud.
and we do.
Well we do a bit,
but we’re so obsessed with living.
What the hell for?
Jan. 5, 2014
gun powder blush
drunk driving lush
hit on myself
burried by a shelf
pretty lace noose
trip to a cliff
rat poison spliff
davey’s locker dive
****** du killer bee hive
releasing the Kraken
monoxide hose in the back end
a sleep not to dream
an end to the mean.
a dip in formaldehyde
flesh is nothing but a plastic cover
and if you s t r e t c h it far enough
the seams begin to rip, hovering
a guideline instead of a fence
a tongue is nothing but a stretchy strawberry
and if you cut it clean in half
the seeds disperse, swearing
to rearrange the words into normal speech
the brain is nothing but playdough
and if you let it mold
the pink uncoils, forgetting Plato
the smile is nothing but a bunch of ugly mirrors
and if you rip them out by the roots
the spotlights reverse, it only gets worse
and you stare at your self-destruction for eternity.
Lost and confused, he found a path.
He followed it like the yellow brick road
Looking to find the wizard of Oz
For his one and only wish - HAPPINESS.
Yet, the yellow brick road he followed
Only led him to a path of self-destruction;
Because along the way he discovered distractions
To numb the pain until he found the wizard.
Until he found happiness.
He found comfort in those distractions
Which quickly turned into addictions.
Now he is stuck ,
In the middle of that yellow brick road .
Because the distractions he discovered along the way
Were destroying his soul; one bottle of *****
And bag of **** at a time.
A part of him has given up on finding the wizard.
So he indulges in his own self-destruction; stuck on a path that was meant to save him. To save him from himself.