It's almost funny how things change. How surprised I am that no matter how stuck in the past I tend to be life around me still moves on, it's like my heart beats backwards while time ticks forward. My heart beats rapidly, knowing where I was going before I recognized the turns I was taking. I'm a sucker for memories and I came here to try and breathe like I used to be able to do but it's different. The snow has melted much like who I used to be and there are no deep conversations just a half moon and a lit up skyline. I want to lean against the rails and remember the ghost of somebody who pressed me up against them but much like him they're gone. They were thrown away like our time together. I remember walking along the edge to overlook the chunks of ice thinking maybe if I fell onto one of them they'd take me somewhere better, now I'm too scared to climb up. How many calories would I burn falling into the lapping waves and fighting to not drown in them? Not enough. Never enough. And I want to say that's not the point but it is. I can't see a forward so I walk backwards and retrace the steps to who I used to be and it brings me back to sickness and I don't want to fight it because pills have to be taken with food and I don't eat enough to fit them into my life. This is what I've become, or its who I've always been. All I can think about is how alone I am and will be and I'm over the moon that soon I'll have everyone I love with me again, it tears me apart to think of when they leave, leave me to figure out if I'm more than any alibi I've ever shown. I'm trapped and I chose this for myself but that doesn't make it hurt any less. It was a self fulfilling prophecy, I wanted to escape who I've been but she catches up with me every time I cry in the parking lot I used to feel so alive in, every time I hear about self inflicted wounds I remember the feeling of my own and I wish they were there again to remind me I'm human and I should treat myself as such. But I'm empty, as empty as the railing that doesn't recognize me as empty as the ice less water and as empty as a plate of food. I'm not sick I'm stuck and I don't want help my Astoria will claim me and when it does I'll claw my way out because I'm a fighter and no matter what I've been through I've always proved that. My mother told me I always play the victim when I try to tell her how I feel and I let her have that. The only victim I've ever been is a victim of myself, of my mind and my heart and I'd dare say my soul if I thought I had one. There's no philosopher in the world who can save me now and no person who thinks to. I don't want to be saved, I just want to feel alive. And some days I do but today I don't. Right now I just want to close my eyes and remember things my brain has let disappear, I want to make something out of nothing and tell someone how I feel without thinking I'm being too much trouble or drawing attention to myself. I want to be alive again but I let such little things **** me slowly and its up to me. Always up to me.

Somehow He tells me not to sleep tonight,
Whispers of a demon creeping out with blight,
The "Dream Eater", he smiles and says goodnight,
Tomorrows anew, as I cook up a stew, so sleep tight,

Little do you know what your treasures insight,
So scrumptious, they feed me even if they are made of light,
Do not worry little one, you do not need them, that's right,
For they are mine now so just be careful of my bite,

I will not harm you I just came to write,
What is yours will never be yours, because I will always steal your might.

You're going to have to pay
I will make you regret what you've done
You took away her innocence
I will take your life with this gun
You carry on like nothing's wrong
I see through that disguise
You work your muscles so you don't feel weak
I will make sure that pain subsides
You don't even know me
I am sure of that fact
You should really look out for me at night
I will put a knife in your back

Blisters dance across ones skin in delight,

Heavy limbs lay flat on cold concrete,

Open wounds seep pus and fear in equal measure,

Scratch's bind broken nails in mere defeat.




Failed meetings never cease to amaze the victim,

*** a horrid tool of power and dominance with men,

Tremble and excite those locked doors in your mind,

Pleasant does not seem to sooth or excite the pen.




No strengths can help you or divide the thoughts,

Taken innocence is not the issue, taken time is,

The win in that moment they certainly do,

****** however is revenge and sweet in hands that wiz.




Fallen pillars of the community exposed to all,

Make no mistake they beat and cut us to out core,

As they lay sunken in coffins lined with led,

Tell yourself this, your no longer society's *****.

Yes you are certainly truly;
the forever blameless you.
Not blanched, scared or blemished.
Proudly sweep on through,
the disease and disaster.
here are you: the auteur ,actor,
written, and right.
demonstratively a demon
on a wreck and toll.
A *****-shaper of reality,
Casting a shadow of blight.

The water is cold and touches the parts of me that feel foreign
I am still pulling needles out of my hair
Bits of broken green and mud spiral into the drain in quick motions
The more I scrub at my skin, the harder it becomes to erase the damage I can't remember
For a moment I wonder how many inches of water is required to drown
When the moment is over I carefully step out of the shower
My eyes connect with the nurse, she tells me that I can wear these clothes because mine had to be thrown away
Only half an hour ago I reached to pull down my underwear to find nothing
I needed to be inspected
A black hole with a past I didn't know needed to be examined
This felt like the kind of dream where all the images are blurred and control is lost, the character moving forward doesn't resemble the one that fell asleep
I nod and begin to dress myself in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants
My sister comes to pick me up, she is in tears
I try to make a joke
To recall the person before
She doesn't laugh
I am not the same
A gravity weighs down the air, like a wolf fetching for the ****; it bites down on the neck of my spirit and draws blood
It remains there for months
And will come to claim it's full prize in a court room
Full of men defending men
With reasons that vary depending on the sport, the class, the color, the ***,
I was unconscious that night but I am awake to see the picture of you they use in the news
You are smiling
Eyes wide
You are a "good boy", a "future will be destoryed", a "made a mistake" kind of man
I am a "binge drinker", an "attention seeker", a "should of known better" kind of girl
You feel you have won
But I never finished fighting
I will declare a war
Not for you
But for the girl before
For the victims whose voice was once unsure
I hear you
And we will shout together

We blame ourselves
not knowing why
there is blood in their eyes.

We wear red welts
and bluish bruises
but hurt even more inside.

Is it their lies or ours
that justify the scars
on our still beating hearts?

In comes nose runs,
and endless fountains of tears,
with an eternity of fear
that says please don’t let me
live this way.

We internalize their mistakes
looking out at the world,
believing that we are weak,
so we do not speak of such things.

Sometimes, we come out alive
on the other side of that life.
Sometimes, their rage becomes ours.
If we are lucky we learn
to take our pain and turn
it into compassion and purpose.

Still, we are always on the verge
of something unknown
fires un-shown
children stuck between
fully and half grown.