I thought
that my light
stopped you from wanting to bleed
But maybe
all along
I was scorching your mind with the heat
I thought
that by now
I could fix all the pieces I broke
But maybe
hearts don't fix
And the shards are now slitting your throat

And you know what's funny?

After men in shining armor blew past me
leaving nothing but a lesson to be learned
you'd think my selfish eyes would perhaps see
that my light does not shine
it burns

I sit down after shaking his hand.
He asks how I feel.
The earth has swallowed me.
(Can you say more?)
The sadness has weighed me down
So much that I sank into the darkness
Below this realm of existence.
But I can't survive without it.
The sadness has grown with me.
I am not myself without it
But I guess it would be nice
To never experience wanting to die.
(His face changes
These are damnable words.
He watches me.)
But I do
In a strangely casual sense.
The desire is not all consuming
And sometimes it retreats
To the distant corners of my mind.
But it is always there
Ready to leap out
The next time I fall apart.
And when it does
It remains for a while
A cool undertone
To all my self-loathing.
You know,
We are all going to die,
Just like we are all going to file taxes
And curse in traffic.
Perhaps it is just one more
Mundane task
I would rather just complete.

We're so so very sorry
but the poets brain you've requested is currently under maintenance.
We do apologize for this but
he really is down for the count
not the puppet but he is broken and fatigued
tired of putting words into verse, at least until his head and art get back into sync I think I need rehabilitation from my own head creating is a burden I'm certain that I'm not even that good anymore when I was just starting I was full of life and vigor...
now I just feel like a chore,
someone else's mess to clean up...

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who's the fairest of them all?

Is it me or is it you?
But you are me and I am you.

"Magic mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?"

It's not you, you're too bland, like the bear's porridge,
lumpy, thick and grey. I think you were unplanned.

"Mirror mirror please understand, I need to know who's fairest in the land"

Oh, please take your pleas and understand this, if I were flesh and bone I'd give you a miss.

"Mirror mirror tell me true, do I look good to you?"

I'll tell you this you needy miss, I have no potion to cure your ails,
and wails and needy questions,
your face and body cannot be endured,
(not even by the big bad wolf, and he likes wrinkly grannies)
If I were you I wouldn't hesitate to put my head into the oven
I'll get Gretel to shove you in.
"You ungodly witch to be burned to ashes"

Mirror mirror on the wall why are you cracked?

I'll always have this feeling on my shoulder
and this stench on my breath.
What you never knew
was just how bad it would get.

All I wanted was reciprocation-
eyes that actually cared,
hands that actually struggled,
and a laugh that rang genuine.

Something is just missing.
Always has.
Maybe my affinity to anything
was violently torn from me.
Or maybe it's just my fault.

Every day now feels like that Thursday.
When the rain just instigates for no reason.
Every day now feels like a sick day.
Except there's no home to rest.

I suppose you could be my medicine.
You could break into a million shreds
and release all of the chemicals
that give me such an ideal numbness.

Because the pills that hurt us most
are the ones that we try the hardest to swallow.
And the ones that heal us
are just too much follow.

Perhaps this is why I'll never have you.
You are the poison and the pain
that can make me smile on cue.
But I
I'm
Nothing.
Nothing but a smoke and a joke,
and a sub-par kisser.
A black hole of emotion and ambition.
Nothing.

If only she had any clue
how much life she contained in one breath.
If she only knew
how many storms she creates within me.

She is here.
And she knows nothing of the endless light within her.
The only one who does
is nothing.

I have run out of words to express myself.

I think I'm losing myself

In my obsession with beauty

Because I can't. ever. be. beautiful.

And there isn't a word

To explain

THIS kind of self-loathing.

I feel like a *****.
I say a lot of really unforgivably cruel things
To myself
All day
Everyday
It's been years since I have spent a day
Not muttering insults at myself
But they are all true.
I can't decide if truth or kindness should win when it comes to hurting myself emotionally.