I was smiling but not happy
I was alive but not living
I was a body who had lost it's soul
I was at the point of no return
I was already dead
I was dead long before I pulled the trigger

I itch to get out of my house
I need a distraction
I try and run from my thoughts
But I can't do it by myself
I itch for you to listen
I need you here with me
I run to the one person I have
But your going to bed
I itch for the pain to leave
I need some help
I run to the blade
But this is the last time
I itch for relief
I need to leave
I run to welcome my death

The little boy unclenched
his sticky fist,
freeing his blue balloon
into the wide open sky.
"If you can fly,
then I shouldn't stop you,"
he said to the balloon
as it floated
                           out
                          ­           of
                                            sight.

It's raining and it's freezing
And the wind sounds like it's weeping
And I'm all alone here hearing it pour.

The trees are tired, the world is weary,
Even the black clouds sound a tad bit teary,
And if they didn't let it out they might explode.

And I'm curled up and my nails are bleeding,
Because a biter can never quit cold turkey,
And I'm cold and feeling fat and so alone.

And babe, I've got these thoughts spinning in my brain,
Like the hail and the rain on my window pane,
And I'm wondering what anyone thinks that I'm around for.

And I'm talking to your friend, who's a sympathetic ear,
And I tell him I'm not sure what's going on around here,
And I'm confused and doubting what I mean to you.

If you love me, shut up and show me,
Knowing my family doesn't mean you know me,
And it's raining in this town tonight,

And in my room, and in my heart a little bit,
And I sit here alone watching Frozen while it pours
And the tears not shed feel solid and I
Feel
Cold.

There is a quiet conversation
we hold between our ribs;
the dialogue of flesh and spirit.
Most have heard it once or twice.
Some don't know its timbre.
Others find themselves in the woods,
knee deep in a creek's cold waters,
and their bones begin to echo
the angels in the wind.

You,
  you are the cause of your own demise
  shelling yourself away in
  a mere attic of your marvelous mind
  selectively mute
  & self-paralyzed.

      Shake your self awake now!
      I just can't seem to understand
      how such a beautiful soul
      can be so strung out of sorts
      when my tiny heart
      pumps all of it's oxygen to provide
      some sort of love & support.

          Heart beat, fingers on your pulse
          lets race our hearts
          till we've nothing but beaten pulps.
          In all of my small wounds
          I've made, remind me
          to fill them with salt.

              I've slit my throat
              here's your perfect American movie scene
              slow, merciless & know, if
              it helps you breathe-
              every time your name escapes my cracked lips,
                                                                                

                                                                                                       I bleed.