You don't know the real me. I don't know the real me. I only know the parts.

Do you know the part of me who has no feelings, who feels no pain, that part of me who does not love? Do you know that part of me who survives despite the struggle not too? She punishes me, that woman. She will take everything I have and make it disappear. She will take it because she knows I can’t be trusted not to cave in emotionally. She is empty and she wants me to be empty. She feels nothing, less, than nothing, and she wishes to disappear. She will hurt me but she feels no pain. She wants to hurt, to be hurt, because she deserves the pain – she deserves to be hurt. She takes care of no one and expects no one to care for her.

Do you know the part of me who is explosive & raucous? The one who speaks before she thinks? Have you met the angry girl who spews venom on the rest of us…unconsciously yet fortuitous like a loud crash? Her words are frenzied; they engulf and hinder, they get in the way. And yet she is full of them…poisonous words that she is unable to contain. Her lashing anger is knee-**** and reckless, her words cut like knives.

Do you know the part of me who has emotions so overwhelming that her very presence chokes the life out of me? The part of me who vomits to get out the feelings of dirt and shame…she pukes until she is empty and even when there is nothing left, she cannot breathe. She used to be the strong one, but now she is weak. She is easily overwhelmed and she cuts herself to feel her emotional pain in a physical way, a way that makes more sense to her.

Have you met the whiny little brat? The 5 year old brat who weighs me down, overwhelms me with her needy dependence…Her feelings consume me, envelop me, and I can no longer hear myself because she  GETS IN THE WAY!  None of the others like her. She just needs so much! She can’t even take care of herself. She wears her weakness, her sadness…like a coat of arms. She is pathetic! She is the reason we are where we are – because  SHE  was the weak one, the one who couldn’t resist him. This is all her fault!

I have been betrayed, abused, and broken. I feel there is nothing inside of me holding me up…soon I will crumble like cinders…***** worthless ash. Leave me alone because alone is where I am safe. Alone is where I want to be. Alone is where I can take care of myself. But the rest of you, the freaks inside of me?

GO AWAY!  All of you! Go away! You all consume me and I can no longer feel me. I feel like there’s a cord tied around my neck and each of you want to pull the noose a little tighter, drag me down. You want me to weaken, so you can control me. You are all like an Achilles Heel – you all drag me down until I can no longer breathe.

Please go away. Please leave me alone.

There are only so many poems to write about heartbreak
only so many ways to say "I love you and I hate you"

Only so many ways to personify the Night and hold her accountable
for the thoughts she shoves down one's throat, fear-dripping and cold

There are only so many ways to reach out in metaphors
desperately grabbing at any emotions their words might stir

There are only so many poems to write about being a stupid kid
with a mixed-up head and a heaving heart
with a cynical mind and a disappointed shout
and only so many ways to cry it out

Only so many half-smoked cigarettes and sweet perfumes
Only so much room for oxygen tanks and desperate goodbyes
It's getting crowded here with heavy clothes and defeatist tones

But there are so many of these murky nights
and only so many ways to get by

I woke up one morning with my insides in a knot
I froze to death from icy sweat, my body getting hot
And an angel stood beside me and he whispered in my ear
"For every day you misbehave I'll take another year"

So I stumbled to get out, empty bottles on the floor
And was aiming for my city as I crashed out through the door
I hurried out only to find I was a single soul
Everything was silent but a hellish belling knoll

The angel stood before me and cackled in my face
"In all your wildest fantasies, this here is the place!"
But here were no burning rivers or pillars made of fire,
The pain that came and scarred the most was from my own desires

What I wanted most in life was nowhere to be found
And the landscape that surrounded me was empty all around
I knew I'd never die again and would dwell here endlessly,
No one to keep me company and no drugs to keep my sanity

I woke up the next morning with my insides in a knot
I froze to death from icy sweat, my body getting hot.
And an angel stood beside me and she whispered in my ear
"The only way to stay away is to give up all your fear"

if my eyes could tell a story,
it would be about how it wore glasses,
how love used to be blurry until you came along,
you were like the last snowflake during winter
and the first flower that bloomed in spring.
my eyes liked to tell me a story
about how you were the shore and i, the waves,
about the origin of the stars
and how your eyes were to blame

if my lips could tell a story
they’d tell you that they longed to be pressed to yours
blow stars down my throat,
bring me back to life
take me to a place that feels like home
wrapped in your arms as the morning sun
poured across our skin

if my knees could tell a story,
they’d tell you about how they would quiver
every time your voice echoes through the room
and latches onto my soul,
they describe the feeling of the rough, cold ground
as i fall on them, accidentally bruising myself,
hopelessly losing my mind,
begging for your hands, positioned on my back,
pulling me towards you like gravity streaming on us

if my hands could tell a story
they’d trace the outline of your lips and your eyes
i was never good at maths
but i could count
the spaces between your ribs,
my fragile hands trailing down every inch of you,
planting seeds down your spine that will, grow, rise,
into flowers almost as lovely as your smile

if my veins could tell a story
it’d tell you how you drove your love into them,
aiming for my arteries,
how you were a galaxy to me,
leaving stardust and moonbeams
flowing through my body
you were never mine, but i wish you were
my veins told me a story of how they were lonely
and how they wanted to carry you, back to my heart
because they knew that that was where you belong

if my heart could tell a story
it would be one of hope, one of longing
two hearts beat in sync,
trapped beneath the weight of the world
you are everything I want
you are the poem I cannot finish, I don’t even know where to start
you are the exit wound, biting through skin
a hole in my chest where my happiness sinks into

i'm not trying to achieve enlightenment i just want to know why it hurts so bad when i make eye contact with you
it doesn't hurt
it winds my stomach up like a yo-yo
and drops it to the ground without thinking twice
the way you blink makes me hurt
hurt
hur
t
this isn't fair it's not fair i have goals and you don't
i'm not skipping classes anymore i'm not
skipping

lines
anymore
i can't i can't
it isn't fair
i can't

if you stop following the rules
they say you have disorder
even if it's just a little bit
and they can't pinpoint who you are to them
borderline personality disorder
everything's either evil, or good
people are placed in categories
to the extreme
then it calms down
it's called
hyper mood swing
bi polar
tri polar
quadruple by pass aint savin me
**** the rules
manic impressive
your diagnosis is depressive
can't handle a little love
a little chat
a little quiet
some existence
you can't see
or feel
hyperbole turned real
is a psychopath's mind
errrr
i'm like a dog on a leash
waitin to bite
the first ******* i see
if he acts up

The Divide as it whispers:
"borderline," and calls you
to the throne of denigration,
like a hawk soars towards
a cute quivering corpse.
We all must eat to live.

Loving only to be loved,
your Love is Fear that,
spreads the thighs of Hate,
suspends the golden rule,
and dips the tip of Trust.
Light bends in clear waters.

The border of "neurosis"
and "psychosis" never met
your gentle river eyes, that
twirl like a child's, hugging
the silent shivering creature.
Squeeze tight until it dies.

"Researchers coined the term “borderline” in the first half of this century, when they thought that people who exhibited behaviors we now associate with BPD were on the border between neurosis and psychosis. Although this concept was discarded in the 1970s, the name stuck." - Paul T. Mason, M.S. and Randi Kreger