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Lost Jan 28
I can’t do much these days
When I wanted to fill quiet space
I used to listen to sad songs
Because I loved them
And related to them
But I don’t do that much anymore
To save my heart
The suffering

I can’t do much these days
When I didn’t want to go to bed
I used to smoke cigarettes at night
Because I loved nicotine
And they calmed me
But I don’t do that much anymore
To save my lungs
From blackening

I can’t do much these days
When I was small
I used to steal food from the kitchen
Because I loved eating until I felt sick
And I liked the taste
But I don’t to that much anymore
To save my heart
From disease

I can’t do much these days
When I was in high school
I used to try to starve myself until I would faint
Because I loved being skinny
And I hated my body
But I don’t do that much anymore
To save my stomach
From aching

I can’t do much these days
When I was eleven or twelve
I used to open and hurt my skin
Because I loved pain
And I felt like I was bursting anyway
But I don’t do that much anymore
To save my tissue
From scarring

I can’t do much these days
When I was a teenager
I used to pop 100mg Adderall during the day
Because I loved medicating
And my doctor told me it was okay
But I don’t do that much anymore
To save mind
From tweaking

I can’t do much these days
When I wanted to die
I used to destroy myself
Because I loved to hurt
And I felt I deserved it
But I don’t do that much anymore
To save my mom
The grief

To save myself
Lost Nov 2019
Every where I go
I see blunt objects
Feel the urge
To rush forward
And crack
Smack
Bash
Smash
My eggshell head
Wide open
Right on my forehead
Displaying the dirt
The mud
The *****
Black sludge
In my cranium
In my core
I want to blast it out
Into the floor
My license is suspended right now. I can’t see my therapist. I can’t change my meds like I was planning to. I can clean my room and change things at home, but I know that I won’t.
Lost Jan 2019
I wrote a poem one day
That made my blood feel hot in my veins
So I tore at my skin like a scratch ticket
Until I won my liquid red prize
I smeared it on the page
And looked at what I did with tears in my eyes
I hid it for months but couldn’t stop being afraid
So I biked over to the neighborhood lake
And I threw the diary I bled in
As far as a could into the water
But my blood never stopped growing hotter

I clawed and gouged all of my limbs
Trying to bleed my way out of my skin
I didn’t know what I was doing
But I knew it must be hid
Because before the diary was thrown
I remembered that poem
I took the tip of the sharpest pencil
And tried to carve it
one letter a day
Into my arm
I started to keep my sleeves down
And fear set in
So I took that same pencil
And scratched it out of my skin

People started to notice then
And ask what happened to my arm
So I learned to make excuses
And better hide my self harm

Back then I was twelve
I read two to three books a day
But nothing and nobody I knew about
Made what I did make sense
I didn’t know why I did it
I just knew I had to
And now I hate to look back
It just makes me sad to

Innocent baby girl
Marring sweet young skin
It took seconds to do it
But years until the gravity set in
I still wouldn’t take it back
Despite all the countless scars
Because it all leads to the fact
That I am who I am now
Because of what I did then
Lost Dec 2018
I forget which songs
I opened my skin to
Which sounds my body
offered its insides to
Staining my sheets
The color of roses
Red and sticky sweet

I can’t remember
Which songs my thighs
Burst open to
Like an overripe
Clementine
Juices welling under
The thinly veiled surface
Eager to spurt from fragile flesh

I forget which songs
I listened to when I
Separated skin with steel
Because I’ve done it so many times
They all blend together
Like the colors in a sunset
Soft and warm
CONTENT WARNING: Descriptions of self harm.
Lost Dec 2018
my body is scarred
thick pink and white
bumpy raised tissue
tiptoes in lines
along my hip
and through my thigh

I am marked
my patchwork skin
has cigarette hickeys
where I pressed the cherry in
I’ve been kissed by fire
long, slow, and passionate

these marks of residual pain
are proof that I’ve lived
I wear my heart on my sleeve
and my hurt on my skin
Lost Nov 2018
Months ago
A razor blade
Danced

It sashayed
It shimmied
Through my meat

I opened my skin
Ripped like
A broken zipper

I melted it away
With cigarettes
And matches

I crushed it
Into a brick wall
With my fist

And slept like
A baby
Each night
I did it

Now I lie restless
Eyes wide open
Skin sewn shut

Six years later
Resisting is still
Never enough
CONTENT WARNING: Descriptions of self harm.

I haven’t hurt myself in months, but it’s always on my mind. I won’t give up. I’m going to push through this struggle.
Aaryn Oct 2018
Isn't it insane
that mental
and physical
are so intertwined
through pain?

Slice your wrists
when you're numb
you won't feel a thing
If you are truly numb
a cut with a blade
is painless

then slowly
as the euphoria subsides
a dull throbbing begins
it's quiet at first
if you listen too hard
it's not there at all

then as the night goes on
and the high is gone
you feel everything
each slice
each word
and at that moment
all you want
is for the numb to return

Eventually
the wounds begin to heal
they don't hurt like they used to
And you are renewed
a blank canvas
null of emotion
and  you pick up the blade again
for all that you want now is the pain to return
to paint your paper red
and to feel everything
once more;
Relapsed again... now my clothes are soaked in blood and my mind is at rest...
Aaryn Sep 2018
***
A sad story
Is drawn upon my wrist
Because
I don't want to exist

My thoughts are toxic
I've given up talking
Because no one listens
and no one is watching

as my mind destroys
what's in my heart
And all this poise
was a lie from the start

I want to die
And yet I'm stuck in my mind
Please let me resign
from this excuse for a life.
If I could wish for anything right now it would be to die.
Lost Sep 2018
I don’t know how
To stop hurting

I’ve grown so used
To the aches and stings
In my chest and my
Hip and my arm
That I start to miss
It when it’s gone

How do I move on
Without this pain?

I’ve never lived
Without it and
I miss it like an
Estranged lover
When it starts
To finally leave
Me alone

Soaring through
Dirt and soil skies

I want to die
But mostly I
Just want to
Disappear

Falling asleep
Without waking up

Do you know
How much it
Hurts to want
Something
You can never
Have?

I feel fated
To live in
The ground
Lost Sep 2018
the cigarette burn
on my arm
stares at me
with its white
and pink
puffy eye

its yawning maw
silently crying out
a speechless yelp
an angry
amorphous exclamation

like a hungry
baby bird
its ugly mouth
splayed open
across my
forearm
CONTENT WARNING: Reference to self harm
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