Got a secret? Can you keep it?
Bury it deep in your grave.
Or I’ll knit a doll with ****** stitches,
Stern vows and broken wishes—
Bury it deep, or rot in the ditches.

Turning from my trustful gaze,
My thoughts twist through a thorny maze.
Calculating your faith,
As I sharpen my scathe.

Voices rise, a cursed din,
My ears trace every whispering sin.

Giggles fade, joy is peeled,
Just then, I know—
Your fate is sealed.

I wonder,
Why do we commit our darkest deeds, then tell?
The burn in our brains becomes a living hell.
I know you’ll tell.
I KNOW YOU’LL TELL.

Heart racing, humanity fading,
As I approach you, internally cascading.
Silent night, stone-cold face.

SUDDENLY—

Burgundy flows, sins atoned for.
My shirt stained,
With the weight of what I now bore.
No regret to shred,
Only two can keep a secret when one of them is dead.

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything.
It’s 6:57 in the morning and I’m munching pretzels.
I don’t care about the crumbs in the bed this time.
Normally I would, but this morning I don’t bother.
I think it’s because I know that I’ll clean them out when I wash my sheets next week.

I have to be at work in a few hours.
I moved back to a familiar town because the stress of trying to exist in a new place was too much.
Normally I love a challenge, but I should have listened to my father.
He said “It doesn’t matter what you do, you’re good at whatever you try to be good at.”

And that just about sums up the last 4 years.
Not being good at anything,
Because I don’t want to be good at it.
Finding niche hobbies that capture my imagination for a little smidge of time.
But all the while my patience is gaunt in the cheeks.

So that’s why I don’t mind the crumbs in the sheets.

You cannot take away the storm within me as much as a sailor cannot control the waves of the sea.
I am the storm, I am me.

Call me crazy one more time
I bet a dime you'll lose your mind
And in the dark is when I shine
Although I'm crying I am fine
I smile widely when I'm stressed
They claim they love me more than rest
Picking my brain for little peace
I just want this all to all cease
I see my shadows walk freely
They even try talking to me
My wings were clipped some time ago
I'm ground-bound on this hellish show
I've tried to remain silent here
But they will say to show no fear
So now I watch my story go
Falling down places I don't know.

I'm a record
repeating all the same lines
hoping that you'll continue to sing along.
I'm a door unhinged
waiting for you to walk my way again.

You're a Gothic masterpiece;
a renaissance of imperfection
spilling over a lifeless canvass.
I sit with a pen
still in my hand.

I can't expect you to hear my every call,
I can't expect that you'll fix the threads that come undone.

If these words are my voice,
then this page is God's ear.
A prayer for what is broken
to be mended once more.

Writing words
here and there
all with no care
    Endlessly
Writing words
with no rest
till I truly
became unhinged