mom walks in my room*

mom: im so ******* disappointed
            in you!
me:
mom: you ******* *******!

walks out

me: ( slits wrists, over doses and
         listens to kid cudi. )

These days all I got is just me and my idols
They give motivation so I don't fall idle.
My words are a promise so I try not to speak
Never been known to live tongue in cheek

I wanna cry out but I don't wanna cry
I'm alone with myself, yeah so am I
You know I'm not weak, but don't think im strong
Surprise surprise, it's been a mask all along

Don't wanna do this life much more, i'm tapped.
Could make a whole new planet from all this crap.
People often like me and I don't know why
I've always been a loner, always saying goodbye.

Guess I'm stuck in old habits
With a blade to my wrist
The angels on my shoulder saying
"Don't do this."

"I know you're right",
I throw the blade.
Can you get a soul back
If the Devil's paid?

What's it take to get to Hell
Then get the **** back out?

What if I redeemed a soul
Can anyone escape a black hole?

ever since i could form a thought-
i knew of this phenomenon called god.
at least that's the name it was given.
but i could never think of god as a person,
a figure to look up to and
are ultimately afraid of.

god was never my best friend,
never something i devoted my life to
nor someone i gave anything up for.

god was the force that willed the plants to grow
upwards from the ground.

god was the recklessness that pushed me to forget my reasoning
and follow my gut.

god is how you can make sense of the past,
how your heartbeat and inhales and exhales
synchronise with the ocean
how you know what it means to feel electric.

god is what made my wrists stop bleeding at the right moment.
it made my father cry when he saw the flaw in his production.
god is what refused my angelhood
and allowed me to breathe
and live.

i still had time to grow.

so i prayed.
i surrendered to the magic of the universe.
i gave it my undying loyalty.

Cement walls surround me.
The silence tortures me.
Crossed legged on the bed
With my head down,
Staring at a razor blade.

Oh how it excites me to see,
Blood dripping from an area where my watch should be.
I am numb to physical pain.
As i have had enough insanity.

I know deep down,
My heart screams for salvation.
Yet a stronger part that shares it,
Gives hell in ways unknown.
It screams but no one is hearing it,
Not even me.

Familiar to the situation.
Where I screamed and no one listened.
Where I spoke and no one responded.
Where I cared and no one seemed to appreciate.
The impact was stronger than they thought.
They say I'll be fine and Oh how I agreed.
Then they left.

Now I am left unloved.
Forced to smile when I don't want to.
Forced to cover up on sunny days where it's hot.
Forced to cry and refuse to go Out.
They don't love me.
And I do not know how to love myself.

I'm beginning to wonder if the sensation in my fingers will ever return.
maybe its like writers block.
perhaps only temporary...
but some people can have writers block for years, maybe even a lifetime.

Bilateral broken wrists.
What the **** does that mean?
Day 1:
I woke up in the hospital, my only concern was my precious forty dollar jeans.
"Aaliyah your back is broken."
Day 3:
Post surgery, heavily anesthetized
"Mom I want to be on American Idol."
*starts to sing in the recovery room"
Day 12:
I woke up and couldn't feel my right arm
Oh right they numbed my radial nerve!
It only lasts a few hours the said
Day 13:
My arm was still numb.

Lets, not fail to  mention that I also have my t12 removed and replace somewhere in the middle of all this.
I have several fractures in my lumbar.

Day 14:
I finally went home.

Four weeks later.
I cant feel my fingers.

curled wrists folded within crumpled sheets
heartbeats gently flutter beneath my skin
drunk on dreams as I nestle
further and deeper into oblivion
however my mind is choking
mental reminders of things past
objectives to complete
work to be finished
I, bleary eyed, weary *****
assume a vacant mind
fixed to a beat body
mess of movements, mess of thoughts
3am is so unkind
to a lonely longing mind

for truly,
who would ever want to kiss a girl
with cut lips
and scarred wrists?