breaking moans
slick as stones
force of my
savage form

dipping my fingers
in a lake of cotton and honey
a marvel, the way the moon
reflects my absolute need

it's funny, how i become
a beast when i cannot choke back
the tension

oh the tension, the retention of all
thoughts from this week
why must my ecstasy be a secret
that i have to keep?

the funny thing I realized at age fifteen,
having been abandoned by childhood dreams,
and mourning a family held together by its seams,

was that no matter how I spoke,
I'd be told to grow up or stay my words,
they were fleeting thoughts to those I'd tell,
much like the birds,

when my words become more radical,
and pushed against norms,
they suddenly held the power of a thousand storms,

they acknowledged the ugly truth that we lived in,
the veil of innocence slowly becoming thin,
suddenly they found it necessary to scrap them in a bin,

I was paid no attention then told to hush,
told that if I expressed my opinions I would be crushed,

"By whom?" I asked once, told I was naive in my bliss,
"By power," would be their reply, for they were quick to dismiss,
that our words too have power to demand change,
that systems must bow down to those that hold their chains,

it would take a while for optimism to burn,
for fate to redirect my thoughts, for them to adjourn,
to come and say perhaps they had changed,
came together and finally arranged,

but here we are now and I still do not know,
whether these thoughts were right for me to forgo.

Do I reach out and plead my case?
Or
    Let
          It
             Go...

Time goes by slower

           When I'm Desperate
                        
                        To know what you're doing

late night thoughts
not allowing me to sleep
deep enough to weep
instead of water
my face is covered in blood

body tucked in warmest sweater
still I somehow feel the cold
cold air seeping through
the gaps I never noticed
they were closed when we hugged

her pictures make me a little warm
she makes blood flow in my heart
instead of poison
but am reminded about her absence
as I bleed only poison

her face was the sun, light
now covered by these clouds
I try to find solace knowing
that the sun is still shining
on someone who is fortunate

rumours about me
stab me harder than reality
their words feel like am being
cut by diamonds that never mends
my real name even I have forgot
*******, loser, ugly face
I have got used to

dreams crashing faster than light
credit card running out of it’s might
nothing in the world seems right
buy me a rope I shall hang tight

late night thoughts
not allowing me to sleep

If I can't unlove you
                Surely I can write myself
                                                  Out of love

I went to college, I got a degree, I don't do drugs, well- not that many,
I've played the wife and the side piece too, I've funded others life styles-
then suffered alone
I spend my days checking my phone
For what? I'm not sure, anyone who gave a **** about me I kicked to the curb-
or they left,
Had enough of my facade,
my relationship with others
always goes wrong
Either I'm too codependent or
I live on the moon
I never could get it right,
so I've hid in my room
I used to go out ya know- I used to be fun,
I could laugh and have a good time but now I just run
If I take too many shots I'll start to cry
so instead of ruining the party
I think I'll just hide
I ache for a feeling that doesn't exist but when I get close my head throws a fit
I know all my flaws and
every ugly feature
How am I supposed to believe someone else could love this creature?
I'm better on paper and returned in practice, the warranty's gone bad
there's no reason to have this
Just for a second I believe
you think I'm gold,
and though that feels so peaceful-
my mind turns me to mold
And you can't see that
I'm making you sick
I don't want to hurt you,
I want to be loved
But once these thoughts start rolling in- sticking around is easier said than done

I think the only reason I wanna change,
​is cause' I don't like me,
in any way, shape, or form.

I want to bury this tragic excuse of a human,
and create something new,
as if this was never there.
To start all over again.

No matter how many compliments I get,
or how you think of me,
I hate every inch of it.
This disgusting body,
with me slowly balding,
gaining weight,
and the joyful expression leaving my face.

You won't understand,
the feeling of pure resentment,
of filthiness,
just by looking at myself.

I hate this feeling.
It taunts my brain,
telling me I should better,
more perfect.

But, I know that'll never happen,
if i'm forever in,
this never-ending cycle of self-loathing.
And, in the end,
that's what's making it last so long.