This is hard

like yanking teeth

or rising up

from a warm bed

at the beginning of winter.

This is hard

like stepping out of

quicksand or thick mud

like pulling a sled

up a steep mountain

in the midst of

a hazardous blizzard.

This is hard

to lie and lie again

but instead of

shrugging off those lies

like locusts or pestilence

or bugs or mal intent

a sanction needs to be clear

and fully carried out.

My actions need to reflect

past words as rough and as raw

as a sore throat

swallowing cold water.

To persevere is to not give up

even when my mind is trapped

in the heaviest of slumber.



I have to do what needs to be done

even though I'd rather

slit my wrists or cut off my thumb.

It's always been an itch so deep within;
I had to scratch hard to reach "it".
I never really got to it though, not until recently.

I always only teased my skin, tasting it's texture;
      the folds, the falls and the risings,
      like great wars I fought with myself;
      there were times when I fell and times when I rose.

I never really wanted to test myself...

I enjoyed the rest it gave my soul when I scratched,
      I lied to myself that it was my way of perpetuating happiness.
      But I wasn't happy, was I?

So I tease my skin.
The sharper side of the blade was always more comforting.

No hand and no love could remind me of times when I didn't need to tease.

So I tease my skin, and I test my skin
and suddenly it splits!
And suddenly the blade tastes my blood;
      a new beginning of a friendship;
      blade and blood be one!
      blade for blood, and blood for pain.

So you've been doing well and you're engaged,
so nice. "Happy for you" doesn't begin to explain
the feeling I've been taking to bed every night.
When I get sad over life and
look at pictures of slit wrists,
I let the memories flood in.
Shuffling to our room in midday
dead set on apologies.
Finding you stretched out and half dead.
Finding you stretched out and half dead,
you said,
"You did this to me."

I bet I'd be better off if I'd left with my cigarettes
But as it stands I can wish you well,
and for your husband the same hell,
to reach the soul you never had.
I hope he's happy in laughter like me,
when I meet you in dreams.
I am not humble in memory.

"It'll make you happy darling. Aren't you tired of being sad all the time? Just one whiff and you'll be on a roller coaster that only goes up."

"It'll make you feel alive darling. Don't you want that? All it takes is just one sip."

"You won't feel a thing darling. Aren't you tired of feeling? Just one slit on each ****** wrist and it'll all be over."

Which will you chose to destroy yourself, darling?

(a.d)

"you've gotten bigger."
you say to me
as we eat at the same tree
that we have eaten at since grade 7.

"your hair looks horrible"
you say to me
as we get ready to go
to his party.

"your acne is coming back"
you say to me
as we get ready for prom
and our dates.

and one day
i skip lunch
and you ask why
and i shrug.

and one day
i curl my hair for the first time
and you as why
and i shrug.

and one day
i wear lots of make up
and you ask why
and i shrug.

but that night
i slit my wrist
and swallowed pills
instead of dressing up.

why you might ask?
because i'm horrendous
inapplicable
disgusting.

don't you remember
the days you reminded me?
well here you go.