My bed has become too big for me.

And not in the sense where my limbs are dangling off the edges,
But in the sense that there shouldn't be just one person lying alone in the dark listening to the stories the walls are telling.

I've come to the point where my tears either burn on my skin like the razor blades you once turned me off of or I've not any left to shed
Because my soul has become as dry as the desert on account of bleeding out until I had no cells left to live for.

There is no more little bird fluttering it's wings to help me know I'm alive, its pulse has left with mine to go off to paradise and ive become a walking distaster-piece trying to find any amount of solace in being forsaken.

My bed beckons me to come back; to uncover it of whatever clean laundry I didn't feel strongly enough about to put in its proper place, to lay down in its arms again and stay a while..

But I no longer find comfort there.

See, my couch has only room for me just as my heart only had room for you, but now I've been left vacant like another apartment after the lease has expired.

I may as well wonder around with a sign reading 'Damaged heart for rent, contact Valerie at 1-800-MYFEELINGSDON'TMATTER' as advertisement.

I've clearly peaked your interest as some sort of toy long enough for you to continuously return and play with me.

So, go ahead and make an attempt at erasing the history we have between us, officially published or not it still exists and it still bestows significance within our lives.
In yours.
In mine.

You pick up your phone, your hand trembling as your fingertips carress the numbers designed to reach me and me especially.

Go ahead and make love to me one day and then later treat it like a one night stand because I don't have emotions and God FORBID I would call you out on the way you kissed me goodbye that night and didn't talk to me for days following.

You carefully reach towards the green call button to make the engagement more realistic.

Go ahead and abandon me like everyone else, I don't expect you to need me when I don't even need myself.

"I'm sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error please check the number and try again."

1-800-MYFEELINGSDON'TMATTER

I'm going back to bed.

My frame is trembling with emotions I never learned how to miss and I'm screaming out with a voice that no one can even hear. Those words I use to listen to aren't even being mentioned anymore and I feel so forsaken. The lexemes the ink use to draw for me have faded into the page and made it blank. Memories tear through my brain and I find myself grasping through my ribcage to grab my puzzle piece heart. I always tend to forget how much I care until I'm left all on my own with nothing but a blanket that hardly keeps me as warm as you did. I'm no longer who I was and I'm not who I want to be. I've let myself subside to a monstrous, desperate catastrophe. You could help me recreate the person I once was. I miss that fragile being and it hurts me when I say it. I never liked who I was until I couldn't portray it. I'm sick of faking smiles that conjoin with "how are yous" and the undying support I know. What about me and my disasters? Does my heart not deserve to endure the assurance of a presence? No, of course not. The truth of the matter is no one cares unless they come to you, they only want YOU to need THEM if they desire you too. And its depressing to know that your words don't matter until your gone on account of those gears being stuck churning to produce conclusion after conclusion of how alone you truly are. It hurts to devour the 'I miss yous' that are trapped inside my lungs. It destroys to crave 'I love yous' that expired when they were young. I can't say I'm here when I feel so possessed by the darkness that I've known for years and I am continuously imploring to fix without spoken word and friends of green and blue. I begin to fade into the darkness; it's painting itself red and when I open my eyes again I'm covered with regret. Come and save me from myself, I beg of you. I want you to. I want to be as alive as you.

Knives pull bits of flesh from my core in order to bear your name and they just keep etching  further. God forbid I dig my own heart out to attempt sharing it with you! Your regards towards my sentiments are all but juxtapositioned with my own!
Why must I wait behind your doors waiting for you to open them when I had found myself within you so easily before? Why all of a sudden have I been banned from your essence?
You may as well just tear my heart out, it's not like I'll feel a difference; you take pleasure in murdering me anyway. It arouses you.

Death be to all whom have tried to love you.

Hello Suicide,
it's been a while since you've passed by.
Do you remember who I am?
I was once your favourite lamb.
You use to taunt me, day in and day out,
I use to ask what it was about
and you always told me to give in to you,
oft times I felt there was no more to do
than submit myself to the succubus of death;
the craver of humans and their pale flesh.

Hello Suicide,
can you teach me how to fly
out into the world were the dead resides?
All of this pain, it just hurts my sides.
I can't stand the mirror as it stares
deep into my core... can it hear my prayers?
I just want the beauty of the feminines I see,
it's so hard just to live here, so hard being me.
I'm nothing but a harlot for this blade inside my hand,
but then again I'm not so sure this affliction I can stand.

Self-mutilation,
with a side of complication,
I'm living in a nation
where love is lost of patience.
I'm no symbol of perfection,
I'm use to the rejection.
I look in every section
of my heart for my reflection.

But it never works just like my fragile heart,
without him I'd likely break apart...

But it never works just like my fragile heart,
I took the cowards way out, I found a different art...

Hello Suicide,
it's been a while since you passed by.
You were my lover, you were my friend,
and now I'm stuck inside the Devil's Den.
I was overcome with wonderous lust
to feel that liquid that tastes of rust.
It's been a while since we danced,
that blade and I were so entranced.

Hello Suicide,
you taught me how to cry.
You taught me how to shiver
with a pain that was shown in every sliver
of my heart as you crawled into my soul
and over took me and my being as a whole.
No one really likes you, you're full of desolation,
you took away my life and named it celebration.
No, I'm not your slave, so I bid you adeiu...
but it's too late, I complied to you.

Self-mutilation,
with a side of complication,
I'm living in a nation
where love is lost of patience.
I'm no symbol of perfection,
I'm use to the rejection.
I look in every section
of my heart for my reflection.

We all know you're a sadist with masochistic tendencies.
Pain is your ecstasy, and it makes no sense to me;
we all know I can't breathe with your hand around my neck.
The passion in the bedroom is dying with every gentle peck.

I can tell you want to **** me from the look inside your eyes,
but I never told you stories that were full of heartfelt lies.
So why am I still here curled up inside your grasp?
I'll be careful what I wish for, this breath might be my last.

You want it rough- where your life makes no sense anymore?
Well... you'd fit rather well with the title "Neighborhood *****."
You won't let me go because you're a fraud from hell,
and you're scared that if you loosen your hold I'll run and tell.

You're no saint, you're a sinner
and you're mad I won't be your dinner.
But I'll do exactly what I please in my life,
and it includes never being the patient beneath your knife.

So I'll run away with half the passion you left me with,
but it's hard to step down when my heart makes me stiff.
I hear something click beside my head...
**** the gun, and pull the trigger, I'm better off dead;
better off in the grave with the rest of the bones
that you laid there because you can't help your heart of stone.
So I'll run away with a head full of holes,
and I'll keep running as the barrel rolls,
and I'll go- go straight to hell,
because I'll never know whatever dwells...
in heaven...
Because I'm a rumoured demon that everyone hates,
and even ignorance can reach the Golden Gates.
So here I am sitting outside of the Devil's home,
and even he won't take me without a dissatisfied groan.

I'm stuck outside hell,
I'm banished from heaven...
Well, Karma will get you
in a year, maybe seven.
You're the one who pulled the trigger,
and made it look the opposite.
Suicide is what it was named,
but even you know the truth of it.

I'm a run-away with half-assed passion,
because you decided I was just a burden
and I wasn't 'allowed' to live anymore.
Well ******* too, you neighborhood *****.

A silent voice speaks out to portray the loudest words of unfaithfulness, listening with your eyes to the echoes that bounce off of the walls and wander as agony plays it's favorite harmony in your head requesting the simplest iota of pain to make you live in shear insanity. Breathe quietly or the next sharp breath you take will be in vain for you will then fear your lungs are collapsing. The next throb of your heart will be the shattering of the glass ***** so strong and yet so frail. Your emotions will drain through your tears and screams as you ache to feel whole again. Until you've reached the point where all seems silent inside of you but you know your gears are still turning like those of a broken robot. You ache to quiet them for good so you take the barrel and make it roll. A loud, skull cracking noise clutters the air as your gears become blocked enough to cease and cause you to fall into a disintegrating mess. Bye, bye beautiful...

I cannot see my heart in anyone else's hands
but yours.
The fact that you hold on so tightly
whether you intend to or not
is still there every moment of every day.
Your attempts,

if that's what they are,


to         push      me      away,
areonlypullingmecloser.

I cannot let go of this rope I'm holding on to, this line between me and you.

If my hands set you free you'd no longer be cared for properly

and that's what I fear the most.

It gets easier to recognize your demons when you're alone again.

I am sick and ******* tired of screaming so loud and having no one hear me, so if this is the first and last time I get this out there then so be it.
We're living in a world that is rampant with hatred towards others who deserve nothing but love and devotion.  And we find ourselves on our knees worshiping  those who warrant disgust and shame. We exist in a system that is so ******* corrupt that I fail to see any solution that we may have for correcting this.
Everyone's talking about killing people and ******* the corpses and those criminals are still out there roaming the streets without a care in the world because someone else is serving THEIR time. If you don't get caught that means you've succeeded right? Their breathe reeks like the skeletons in their closet, and still we refuse to open the ******* door to expose the truth.
There's sexism in the courts; a chick can say you looked at her the wrong way and she can get your *** sent to jail. One word about a threat, and someone's in handcuffs. A man steps away from a law man to gain some time to defend himself against heinous accusations and gets saddled with resisting arrest. Criminals with permission.
We shouldn't have to ******* worry about whether someone will be here one day and be locked up the next. Live and let live has turned into search and destroy everything you once held dear to yourself.
I have the right to remain silent and even if I don't say anything, they will use it against me... just like my past significant other used his weight of over 300+ pounds to own me however he saw fit.
While you're up there taking an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth so help you God, your right hand extended to some supposedly glorious being and lying through your ugly ******* teeth, I'll be over here solemnly swearing I am up to no good, conniving to set things back on track.
Call it Karma or call it anarchy, call it whatever the ******* like, but things need to ******* change. It's time.
I have the right to remain silent, but it sure as hell doesn't mean I'm going to.

I** am the rain on a sunny day, destroying everything that is remotely happy,

Absolutely revolting as I cling to unstable dreams of loyalty.
Masked by a dishonest smile, I strive to become the positive person everyone wants around.

A court of jesters surround me to justify my hilarity based on their singular opinion.

Carved out of the ivory of life, I break to shambles under immense amounts of pressure.
Unforgiving poetry escapes my mouth in the most destructive way possible.
Nothing I say can justify the horrid choice in vocabulary I spread out on the table before you in a fit of rage and misunderstanding, and now
Tomorrow is another day of regrettable instances and apologies that mean absolutely nothing to you.

6 years ago you would have known
Exactly what I was doing
Exactly how I was feeling
Simply based on what I posted on Facebook.
Every detail of my life was there in black and white for the world to see.
I was an open book,
I made it easy for you
Because you didn't have to ask.
5 years ago you would have known
Who wronged me and how,
But you would never know how I was trying to fix it.
When my world was falling apart and I didn't know what to do,
It would be made apparent
Because venting my frustrations and clicking "post" was my way of letting go
So I could do what I needed to do.
You would know that I birthed my children,
But nothing of how my labor went
Or what my experience was afterwards
Because you never asked.
4 years ago you would have known
Who I was spending time with and how often
You would know more about my kids than I originally intended to share.
You would have known I was hurting then
But you wouldn't know why
Because my vague asides to the internet
Lacked the details you needed to render a fake response of support and admiration
Although they were given anyway.
But you would have never known the struggles I faced then,
Because you never asked.
3 years ago you would have known
about the things I found interesting because I shared them with all of you.
You would have known
That I had been hurt by someone I thought the world of,
But quickly recognized wasn't worth my time.
You would have known
That my kids were my world
And I was in love with someone good for me
But nothing more than that
Because the only thing provided to you to gather your opinions were pictures involving events we experienced together
Appreciation posts
And nothing else
Because you never asked.
2 years ago you would have been reminded that my cats are just like my children,
That my kids were growing too fast
And I was struggling to keep up.
You would have known that my relationship was wholesome
And everything I had been looking for
But you never would have known how badly I was battling with myself in life
Because you never asked.
1 year ago you would have known
That I had made the decision to move away from everything I had ever known
And loved
And every single one of you that barely know me anymore
Would assume this was the greatest decision I had ever made for myself
But you wouldn't know what I went through
And learned during my time there
That caused me to move back
Because you never asked.
In my present life,
You will never know who hurt me,
You will not know how my kids are,
Which bridges I am mending
Or which ones I've set on fire,
What I am doing to better my life,
Who I am involved with,
How I am feeling,
Or the things I am experiencing
Because you'll never ask.

I am only pretty when I'm naked.

I did not give you permission to **** me inside of your head.
Please get your imaginative hands off of my unobtainable soul,
and close your mouth,
you're drooling like a coward when he sees something that he cannot have.
I belong to no one but myself.
I am old enough to know the rights of my body.

I am only pretty when I'm naked.

Stop recording every moment we will never have with your undistracted eyes.
I did not ask for this,
I am covered in clothes that do not accent the curvature of my frame and yet still you gawk,
and I will be asked what I was wearing that night.
I was wearing my right to say no,
but to him I was wearing my inferiority.

I am only pretty when I'm naked.

I am a female powerhouse.
I am competent with my tongue in many ways yet you ache to abuse it.
I am inclined to tell you what is best for me, but I am a woman.
And I know nothing.
You will beat it into me until I actually know something so well that I choke on it.

I am only pretty when I'm naked.

I am incapable of loving because, to you, I am not justified,
so you will show me how until I cannot breathe any longer.
The bruises and scars will taint my porcelain skin like mud on brand new sneakers,
except the black, blue, and crimson cannot be rinsed from my body
as easily as my clothes were removed by you.

I am only pretty when I'm dead.

It's getting hard to sleep because I've noticed every single thing you've touched on my bed smells exactly like you. I can almost feel you here holding me closely and not letting go, our fingers laced together so tightly we are nearly inseparable.

I'm trying to find the right words to describe you... but you're just too perfect. Every single word you say to me burrows into my brain like a parasite and will not leave its nest; reminding me constantly just how lucky I am to have you.

I am terrified that this is all a dream, that I'll feel myself falling off the edge of a building and my body will **** me awake before I splatter all over the ground and I won't know you as well as I do, or I won't get to know you as well as I want to.

I hugged you tightly that night as we lay together; and I'll tell you now that I  was afraid to fall asleep. The truth is I nearly cried as we held each other in the dark of my room, as Coheed and Cambria filled the air.

You see, last time I had held someone this close to me I was informed he wouldn't be there when I woke up because he will have gone home, leaving me with an empty space in my bed that I had not asked for. In fact, I had nearly begged him to stay so I didn't have to be alone... Just for one ******* night... but he disregarded anything I said. He left.

But, this time when I woke up the next morning I was warm from a loving embrace, which is something I had clearly never really felt before. I felt comforted instead of chilled from the cold shoulder of someone who shows very blatantly he doesn't give a **** about how he makes anyone feel.

And that morning, I received precious kisses on my shoulder blades as I struggled ever-so-gently to wake up and my heart nearly melted in your perfectly sculpted hands.

That morning I was woken up by shivers, butterflies, and happiness instead of drowning in a disgusting alcohol-free cocktail of misery, dread, and anxiety over all of the things I said wrong and needed to apologize for.

I was able to ******* live instead of recoil at the thought of any lonely days following... I was capable of laughter and sleeping without the aid of medication I never wanted to ******* take in the first place.

Happiness they call it... I forgot what that felt like.

It's simply sublime.

I stare into the soul of the sky
As it's shimmering in the black of the night
It shrouds me with it's light
Whispers to me secrets and careful compliments
"Just sweet nothings to help you blossom."
She said.
"Now grow."

My roots have been planted deep beneath the ground
Leaching flavors from the dirt
But left malnourished
Because toxicity around me kept me weak.
Now fully watered, in healthy soil
I immerse myself into the nutrient rich earth
And I feel alive again.

My fronds stretch and grow in echoes
Vines twisting and pulling me upward towards the gleaming moon,
Beautiful and bright.
"Just like you."
She said, reaching out with open arms
To hold me in her grasp again
Petals stretching through the sky like fireworks.

"So deserving of life and love."
She said
Planting the next root beside me,
Watering it, nourishing it as she did me
Whispering flattery as the next prospers as I have.
Growing together,
roots burrow further
Similar leaflets unfurl to intertwine with mine
Like hands holding each other in the dark.

She watches as we thrive together
Swelling into the early morning moonlight,
adoring each other as is.
Stems swaying in the wind
Our petals gracefully caressing
As the love transfers from one to the other in fluorescence.

"Bloom, my children. Bloom together and love deeply, forever."
She said.
And our growth was never faltered,
Not by wind, rain or fire,
Or the inevitable trampling of careless feet.
In adversity we held each other up,
Encouraged careful healing
And inspired to create.

Our glimmering beacon of hope reminded us
As she careened away into the morning sun
"Fate has a way of keeping close the roots that must be near each other, in order to grow the strongest."
And we inevitably flourished to be the best we had never been.

Your hand fits perfectly in mine,
you'll lead me places I need to go.
All will be just fine,
with you right by my side.

This love of ours has just begun,
and if we're lucky, it won't ever be done.

I have a smile plain to show you
just how much you mean.
And me? I'm being showered with a love
that makes me feel so clean-
clearn of heart, so pure...

You'll never let me go, never let me fall,
you'll be here for me throughout it all.

...and your fingertips are on my cheek,
they're on my skin.
So gentle they are, I feel so weak,
as they begin to rest right beneath my chin.
A kiss, a kiss, a kiss you place,
so softly, against my lips.
The hormones drive me crazy
from the trigger that you trip.
Your fingertips are loving,
and as caring as can be,
I can barely think...
you actually came to me.

Happiness begins to crawl
straight from within my heart.
I can't believe it's happening,
but I won't tear apart...
Won't tear apart from you,
no, not from you.
A fluttering beneath my ribs
is all I need to happen,
just so I can recall
the certain kind of fashion,
that I need to drop into your arms.

I feel so alone without you near,
I can't feel without you here.

...and your fingertips are on my cheek,
they're on my skin.
So gentle they are, I feel so weak,
as they begin to rest right beneath my chin.
A kiss, a kiss, a kiss you place,
so softly, against my lips.
The hormones drive me crazy
from the trigger that you trip.
Your fingertips are brushing,
running through my hair.
It's funny just how many people
wouldn't find this fair.

We're already there, I can barely think...
you actually came to me.
(To me.)
And everything is just as perfect...
as it could ever be.
With your fingertips against my skin,
and you being with me.

Your fingertips... my skin...
You being with me...

I'm so sick of being broken and you have all my pieces to put me back together in all the correct places. You keep trying to put them in on someone else's vessel and it isn't working no matter how hard you chisel in to try and make it fit. That piece doesn't belong there, not even just one bit.

He wrote her a letter
"Hello,
I miss you"
And she replied neglecting legible correspondence

You can't swallow a yawn like you can swallow a pill,
but yet you try and then you pay by the bill
because the end came near for you after you choked
it all down and felt you'd explode.
So you call 911 and you pant in their ear
the last few breaths you can manage to bear.
You arrive with a time of death but a miracle awaited,
with your last will your God is who you hated.
You wanted to be gone with the tip of a hat,
you wanted them to say you weren't coming back
but you awake on a bed of white in intensive care
with the thought in your mind that this wasn't fair.
You just became worse as the days passed you by,
and you wanted this done, you wanted to die.
You tried it before, you'll try it again,
because there are thoughts in your head that are trying to bend.
Amnesia remembered you and took you in hold
and your brain is the main thing it always patrolled
while you lay in that bed to try and get better.
I wish I could call you, or write you a letter,
but you wouldn't know me since forgetting's your friend now
so here's to you, my heart's trying to know how
to live and keep living without you right here
because now as I look things just don't look clear.

Those tears you bear are proof that you've been through too much at one time. Your breaking point is found and your body refuses your heart the right to see its rhythm or rhyme. Strength in the shape of someone so broken is the toughest kind around. You're a lover and a fighter, and someone who can astound all of those around you who ponder you with questions. Such a beautiful soul that is locked up with good intentions should never be hidden so far behind the ribcage to never be found once more. This flawed design is a hindrance to you and your very core. Don't you ever give up, don't you ever surrender. You've made it this far, don't forget to remember.

I feel beat and I feel bruised,
I feel broken and ******* used.
Why can't I seem to get it right?
Why can't I seem to find the light?

Emotionless is who I am,
this ain't a joke, this ain't a scam.
I feel one thing of any feeling,
I feel as though I am not healing.

This pain will be the death of me,
and all because you're too blind to see.
My smile won't seem to just shine through,
unless I'm acting out to you.

This morning I'm shattered,
tonight I'm battered,
tomorrow I'm crying,
the next day I'm dying.
I don't want to take it,
but I can't seem to shake it.
It's hard to go with the flow,
from today until tomorrow.

I sit on my bed, awaiting something good.
I dream and wish for the thing I think I should.
A salty rain runs down my cheeks as I beg to god,
and I feel I must rip my chest, to prove I'm not a fraud.

I need to find my laugh again,
I want to have you as my friend.
But if you keep on hurting me,
it won't be possible for you and me.

My anger comes in many ways.
I need some questions answered these days.
I want to know just what I did,
I've a right to know, for I'm no kid.

This morning I'm shattered,
tonight I'm battered.
Tomorrow I'm crying,
the next day I'm dying.
I don't want to take it,
but I can't seem to shake it.
It's hard to go with the flow,
from today until tomorrow.

I want to be done with crying tears for you,
I want to forget everything you put me through.
I'm so sick of feeling broken and bruised,
no longer do I want to be beat and used.
It needs to be easier for me to go with the flow,
I wish it were better for me to know what I know.
My dreams are always being shattered and torn,
and as this keeps happening my hope is starting to be worn.

This morning I'm shattered,
tonight I'm battered.
Tomorrow I'm crying,
the next day I'm dying.
I don't want to take it,
but I can't seem to shake it.
It's hard to go with the flow,
from today until tomorrow.

This morning I'm shattered,
tonight I'm battered.
Tomorrow I'm crying,
the next day I'm dying.
I don't want to take it,
but I can't seem to shake it.
I still can't go with the flow,
from today until tomorrow.

Ten in the morning at the table without you,
still waiting for recognition, but you're gone.
It's the same **** on a different day,
and I know you'll be back tomorrow screaming you were wrong.

You left me as a burning flame,
saying not a word.
I heard those ******* keys fumble
as you rushed out of the door.
I'm not a ******* puppet,
I don't have any strings.
I'd like to hear you tell me
you've heard a puppet sing.
No, I'm not Cinderella,
I'm not wearing any rags.
I certainly don't clean the floors
for some ungrateful hags.
I'm not a tiny trinket
that you can just abuse.
I'm a ******* human
that you really shouldn't use.
No, you never loved me
you said that so yourself.
You just keep me as a toy
that you can put upon a shelf.

And now here you are, right outside my door
in a drunken stupour, struggling with the lock.
But the door was left wide open
at a dark hour on the clock.

I'm not ******* perfect
but you're just so much worse.
You argue with me *******
like I'm a ******* curse.
You don't ******* love me,
that's exactly what you said.
You'd love to see me choking.
You'd love to see me dead.
Your words are like a knife
stabbing through my heart,
but it's your ******* fault
that you used me from the start.
You're a pretty bleeder, dear.
Your head is on my floor.
You shouldn't have ever left me
or closed that ******* door.

I've gotten it brought to my attention; the subject of change.
It's been requested to know whether it's healthy or not.

Yes?
[No!]


Yes!
[No?]

What ever the answer may be, I'd like to find out.
Stop your pondering, that's my occupation.

You ask the question, let me do the rest.
But where does my investigation begin?

Here. It does here.

Every year,
Every month,
Maybe in whole weeks...
I  make companions, or create a monster of myself and accumulate enemies.

That's not my intention.
I am only human,
and I fathom wishes cannot always be blessed.

I'd like greatly to keep everyone as an appreciated comrade,
alas this cannot always be bestowed.

"Friends" they betray, they lie to authorize other people to hate you.
Then you're spoken to of their rumors and you become distant from one-another.

What do you do?
Give up?
Never.

This change is obviously staunch.
It evidently shows the truth of it all.

Those... traitors, they are not worth any millisecond of your watch.
They are not worth any view of your pupil.
They are not worth an iota to your person.

Those embraces, perhaps, you shared
that maybe were accompanied by grins of merriment...
or apprehension and distress,
they meant nothing.
They were empty achievements that subjected us to change.

Change, there's that lexeme; repeated.
Difference.
Adjustment.
Variation.
Innovation.
Vicissit­ude.

Is it in fact a valuable commodity?

No?
[Yes!]


No!
[Yes?]

I admit;
It is; only in solitary incidents.

Change, this subject was brought to me.
Do you permit this to be the feedback of your confusion?

I am not at liberty to blame anyone else for what has made me who I am today,
but I shove the salt of guilt in the wounds of others like their pain is all I long for.
If anything I'm a *******;
seeing you in agony assists me in feeling alive.
Not because you're hurting,
but because I am too.

Just outside Toronto,
we'll work coffee shops and gigs
and make this what we want to.

No longer do I hide
behind apathy and equations
that make no sense.

Here and now I have you
after I've waited so long
to make you mine.

Our adventures across the lands
searching for ethnic flavours
will forever dance throughout my brain.

Your arms wrapped around my waist
and your kisses on my lips
will help bury my demons.

Your illnesses will fade away
so much quicker than before.

Now I'm here playing with the puzzle called your heart
in the conscious effort to put you together as you should be
because someone foolishly played the gambler and felt your heart was worth the bet.

Once you claimed you were upset
not suicidal
but still I worried.

My heart was in your hands
and the melancholy thought of losing you
made minimal scars reopen.

Now, just outside Toronto
we work coffee shops and gigs,
making it what we want to.

With the things we always dreamed to have
and the love that no one else will ever understand.

We'll be bitter together, burn the world together as once we decided we would
because the thought once was so intoxicating that we became lustful for it,
and made the choice to create what we wanted, in Toronto, working coffee shops and gigs.

Twenty plus miles away seems miniscule to those who have never felt love so existential and unconditional.
Sometimes people just fall further and further even if they can see the person on the lower end has no intent on catching them and wills they drown in someone else's ocean.
But you... You taught me how to swim in any body of water I had happened upon and I keep choosing yours, hoping to reach the heart of this ocean eventually.
Even as the ebb and flow pull me in multiple directions willing I stay away your face is all I see, your gentle voice is all I hear, your emotions are all I feel.
I am becoming one with you, as every intimate detail of your soul is etched into my brain and deemed something of the utmost importance.
People beg I come back to shore where I belong so I can discover a different vacation spot, but I refuse to quit you.
Until your storm occurs and murders me, until it washes me away for good- this is where I will remain.
Because I refuse to quit you, and with you I will stay as a permanent ornament to this specific ocean. History can not be destroyed, it can only be created.

This is the part where I'm not allowed to breathe,
where I have to hold my lungs from collapsing until you see
just how much of my world you make for me
and the perfection that you help me to see.
Now darling this is my chance to show them all
just how much - how far - for you I would crawl,
and how fast which includes just how hard I would fall
for you giving you my heart at every time that you call.

Now please don't get ****** if I tear things apart
to analyze them like they're a new sort of art
and begin to piece them together on my tiny chart
of truths and lies that burrows within the chambers of my heart.
And I apologize if I hurt you with the pain that I bear,
because all of these things I've to get use to being there
in my heart once more where they use to be shared
with so many people that pretended to care.

I know I can't force you to gaze, but this paper tells the story.
And I can't force you to hear me, but my voice sings the song.

But you just would not listen and I just could not bear it,
I was having problems breathing and my heart wouldn't dare it.
What was I supposed to so say when I was to give you the credit
for breaking me to pieces and making out like the bandit?
Now here we are at the start again,
with a heart that is broken, talking with a brand new friend.
This is where it started last time before it decided to end,
but he's happier than you ever were to be my boyfriend.

Never in my entire existance  have I met someone quite like you.
Never in my entire life, has my heart felt this pure nor true.

I know I can't force you to gaze, but this paper tells the story.
And I can't force you to hear me, but my voice sings the song.

It may just seem comical, but you listened so well,
and before I hit the first note, you knew how they fell
and you sang along like you knew how it went
making those tears fade away just like they were spent.

I know who you are and you're not the type to just drop something like it doesn't matter, no matter how much you desire to. I know who you are. If you can't tell that the way I'm breathing right now, with my hands going numb as I try my hardest to write you the sweetest serenades before they lose feeling, the way my heart pounds in my chest if someone even mentions the title of your god forsaken constellation means that I love you more than anyone else ever will, then *******.
Here I go
down
down
down
to the very depth of your core because deserting me somewhere I'm unfamiliar with is so gentlemanly of you after all. I'll never find my way out if you don't let me.

I want to be the only desire you have
when you wake up in the middle of the night
sweating for pleasure;
where the tension is so strong
I stir in my sleep to ask you what is the matter
and you timidly answer that you had a nightmare,
even though it's a lie
and you're too shy to admit to your carnal need
and express that the real reason you're awake
is because your dream
nearly made you wet
and it disturbed you
because the person in your head at the time
wasn't me.

It all seemed so real,
until you woke up with my small frame beside you,
with my chest rising and falling slowly
and the growing pressure against your boxer briefs
was becoming too much
as you stared at my smooth skin.
I nearly frightened you when I asked of your well-being,
you didn't think that wishing I would wake
would work.
As you told me you had woken from terror,
I turned over drowsily
crawling over you
to embrace you with kisses
and 'everything will be alrights.'

When you started to shiver
from my affections
I knew that there were other reasons
we both had stirred like this
in the middle of the night.
Our passion became heated,
but I could smell the guilt on you.
Something was wrong,
something was the matter.
We continued though
until we both finished in each others' sweat
and had inhaled enough of one-another's carbon dioxide
to save thousands of trees.

Only then did you tell me
another had tasted who I wanted
so badly to keep
for my own
for the rest of my life.
Only then did you tell me
you did me wrong
in so many ways.
Only then did you tell me
that you no longer dreamed of me
and you abandoned me.
Just like everyone else.
Just like you promised...


That you never would.

I've been alone for so long I'm forgetting how to cope with the inevitable sense of dread I swallow when I finally lay in bed.

I could teach myself to play guitar,
but I know that I won't get that far.
I could show myself the easy way,
but it's too hard to do today.
I could listen to the words you voice,
but to me that's the hardest choice.
I could tell you exactly what I mean,
but that would mean just coming clean.
I could tell you all about myself,
but I'd rather emotions stay on the shelf.
I could write you a love song,
but I think the words would come out wrong.
I guess I could try instead of assuming,
and after it all I could continue my fuming.

I told you once, before today,
what I felt and ran away.
I hid behind a wall of pain,
and in the end what did I gain?
I was so afraid to break perfection,
so instead I made a fake complexion.
I tried to keep it hidden now,
but my heart had already made the vow.
It came out anyways the way I felt,
and with those emotions is what I dealt
for days, and hours, and minutes, and seconds,
and still here I am, and your love - how it beckons.
The tears love my cheeks as they slide their way down,
their attempt to make me happy, just makes me frown
because I broke perfection in the worst kind of way,
and I don't know how I can live in dismay.

I could explain the complications of who I am,
but you probably wouldn't give a ****.
I could breathe the words you want to hear,
but then what would that do, dear?
I could lust for you like in my dreams,
but that never gets me anywhere it seems.
I could love you just like I said I would,
but I never said that I always could.
I could take pictures of the things we do,
but then we might need to start anew.
I could show you things you don't want to see,
but in your head, what would that make me?
I could bore you to death and push you away,
but then I wouldn't be alive today.

Sticks and stones will break my bones if you throw them at my door.
I guess that leads me to the question of what made you love me more.
What did I say that grabbed your heart and left you feeling wanted?
Because I know I ran away and took what I had for granted.

I told you once, before today,
what I felt and ran away.
I hid behind a wall of pain,
and in the end what did I gain?
I was so afraid to break perfection,
so instead I made a fake complexion.
I tried to keep it hidden now,
but my heart had already made the vow.
It came out anyways the way I felt,
and with those emotions is what I dealt
for days, and hours, and minutes, and seconds,
and still here I am, and your love - how it beckons.
The tears love my cheeks as they slide their way down,
their attempt to make me happy, just makes me frown
because I broke perfection in the worst kind of way,
and I don't know how I can live in dismay.

Here I am, consciously putting your puzzle piece heart back together because someone played the gambler and bet on your blood only to lose because you found out the game that was going on quicker than your host expected and they dropped your vessel like the glass trinket that it is and it shattered to pieces as it met with the ground. Harlotry is the game she started and didn't know how to quit, her mind seemed confused as well as her chest that seemed to be made cold as ice and black as night.
Here I am doing my best to show you how much I care, how much emotion is there in my heart waiting to be shared, to be left in your arms as the truth that it is, to be reflected in your eyes as the things I see, for I love you that much. I could stay with your help if you wanted me to, and could stare at the smile that I caused for you. Now here I breathe like it's not in my nature because of riggers of passion and moments of pleasure.
We could spread your beauty like a rumour that stays, like an illness that's healthy in odd kinds of ways. We can burn things together like pyro-addicted lovers and laugh in the faces of stupidity of others. And the places we stand will be all but cherished for our bitter facade has all but perished from the lives of those that treat us like **** in this evil world that's hell in a pit of a fruit of the universe that no one would pick for differences that express just how much that it ***** even for those with an Irishman's luck.
So here your faith shatters as mine did too and remembrance and patience are again a virtue that not many have because this world tore them down like a natur-istic thing that survives with a frown. And I love you so much I've faith in you, only you, and the things you may do for the hope that humanity will change one day and be more like you.

What, my dear, have we become..? Who are we now that the night is done and a new, bright day has come to rise where tears are glistening within my eyes? Who are we now? What have we become? Things don't even change with the rising sun. Its still the same as it was before, its just all hiding behind that door that's right in front of us but locked with no key. Or maybe there is...? But it's nothing we can see with our eyes clouded over and our hearts filled with sorrow.,.. This is how it is tonight, and how it will be tomorrow.

The writer is scribbling with an act of such passion,
but ideas can run out in an untimely fashion.
Ecstasy in fingers only lasting so long,
a poem in composition, some kind of song.
It won't be forever until I have you where I want,
soon you'll be mine. [You'll be mine.] Mine to flaunt.

Your lips against mine, a show between lovers,
those words are unspoken; letters read between covers
of a book that has barely been touched,
but in the hands of my other is where they are clutched.
I'll let them be vocalized,
fly and flitter like butterflies.
A hopeless romantic with a great deal of gratitude,
if the reactions I get are of the right attitude.

In the end I really can't help how I feel,
the emotions I have are far from unreal.
I'm told to follow my heart to see what is true,
therefore here I am following the road to you.
It might be quite a distance, a difficult strife,
but I've experienced plenty of those in my life.

It's funny how just words can make me love you more,
I don't really believe I've felt so ecstatic in someone's presence before.
Even a whisper from you can make my cheeks flush.
A smile covers my lips, it was caused by my affectionate crush.
Now, it won't be forever until I have you where I want,
soon you'll be mine. [You'll be mine.] Mine to flaunt.

Everything is so dark and I can't see past it.
When the light at the end of the tunnel is no longer there how am I supposed to find my way home? Your arms were the only solace I had and now I'm just here alone.

Everything I love will leave me eventually but because of me they would have basked in affection effectively. At least they'll know they were never alone. I have mistakes that I'll never be able to atone for, but my apologizing is all but finished in this world where everything I love  must diminish.

I'll still love you
Even when you're the ugliest person I've ever seen.
Because that's what I do best;
Love the monster before it ever shows its face.

Tonight I'll sleep with my clothes on, because I don't want to wake up from dreams of you kissing the delicate skin of my back to find that your existence is no where near me.
I don't want to suffer tonight knowing that when I wake up I'll be colder than I was in your arms when I saw you last and the only solace I have for heat are layers of fabric instead of your skin.
If there's one thing I could ask of you now, it would be to make me your lover, and make this your home so I can guarantee your safety myself instead of relying on someone else to keep that ******, beating vessel all in one piece.
I don't trust anyone with you but me, because I know things about you that no one else does and God forbid I even try to share your secrets anywhere but in the air directly between you and I. Let me grasp your hand in the dark and have you feel my warmth, so you know I'm there. So you know I won't let go.
Make me your lover and make this your home so I can cherish you like no one else will. So I can remember all of my favourite things about you and help you mellow the things I don't. So I could kiss you every night and be guaranteed to still have you the next morning. So when we say goodbye to one another, I know the timeframe it will be a goodbye for....
Because it won't be goodbye. It will be 'see you later.'
But tonight I'll sleep with my clothes on, because that way I don't have to bear my scars to anyone else but the dark beneath the fabric; so my heart can bleed freely and maybe you won't know of the loss I've suffered for you.

What am I?
As I search for answers in the void of the unknown I find none of the conclusions I am looking for and begin to feel intolerable.
To myself.
To others.
People stray away from me like I am some sort of disease, yet are still talking about me as if I could never hurt them although we share occupancy within the same room.
I find excuses for their ignorance and continue on my way and I still begin to wonder if every encounter I ever had was in vain because I refused to poison them with my sense of independence.
What am I?
I control substances as well as I control myself. I become unsure on how to stop my self-abuse and it occurs to me that I may just be as ****** up as they say I am.
I may just be a reincarnate of a bundle of people who have ******* up everything they've ever had. I'll never know.
What am I?
As I sit in the darkest corner of the room with my head in my hands I contemplate the truth of the words that spew from other people's mouths like a plague of ***** deemed to destroy those who beg themselves every night to gather the strength to stick around for at least one more day.
What if I told you I was planning what could be the most creative ending yet? Whether my own or another's you'll never know... and I couldn't wait for you to see the star of the latest attraction in Life's circus on display.
I saved you all some oxygen, I hope it's to your liking.
What am I?
Well what have they always told me?
A dead end?
Disappointment?
Failure?
No. Something much worse.
Nothing.
I am nothing.
And we've all tried to make something out of nothing haven't we?
Didn't work very well did it?
Hi, my name is Nothing and this is the last breath you'll ever see me take.

"What's the matter dear?"
Psh... They say it as if they actually care.

Everything.

Nothing.

I have no ******* clue what is actually wrong with me.

What is so wrong with me that I am squeezing my lungs with my dirt covered hands just so I have trouble breathing, just so.. perhaps... I suffocate myself...

What is so wrong with me that I've had to cry so often my tears have turned to sand and they begin to erode my flesh?
I've sobbed so often lately that the features of my bare skull are now where my pretty face should be.

I'm such a **** up.

I swear they told me that the minute I was born. You would figure it was my name.

Hello my name is: **** Up.

Nice to meet you. I hope we can be great frie--- oh great.
I've done it again.

I said the wrong thing.
I held out the wrong hand for the handshake.
I'm too ugly for them to talk to.
I'm too skinny.
It's the pimples again isn't it?
They weren't this bad yesterday I promise I just pick
Pick... Pick... Too much.
I'm s-sorry I k-keep st-stuttering its j-just that you're s-so... pretty.  Oh y-you have to g-go? O-okay...

The abandonment issues never really go away.

It gets harder and harder to talk to people. Even in your dreams you try to scream to get some recognition for yourself but every word comes out silent.

Crowds are your worst enemy. You get lost as they swarm towards you and your body suddenly feels tight. Your stomach flips upside down and you're not breathing steady.

And then... Oh! There's that suffocation you wanted earlier. Is it everything you expected? Breathe it all in! Oh wait... You can't. Hahaha!

You can't speak, and when you do you st-stutter again and you speak so quietly that it doesn't even matter anyway.

"I exist." You whisper.

No one heard you, you know.
Instead their voices bounce off each other and you feel light headed as that once wonderful cranium fills with the clamor of the incredibly untalented voice-drummers you unwillingly surround yourself with.

My entire body trembles with anxious defeat.


Such a **** up.
You can't even get him to talk to you again let alone love you, you miserable *******. You're going to be alone forever, you know.

And your own friends!... They're out doing drugs and you always believe them when they say they're going to quit. Jokes on you. This will traumatize you for the rest of your pointless life, especially when you know you could have done something.

You can't even take care of yourself, what makes you think you deserve those wonderful twins you hold so closely to your heart? You should have listened to your father when he said you'd be a terrible mother. He was right. You're horrid.

Sticks and stones WILL break my bones, but words will indeed **** me.

Hello, my name is: ****** Up

Welcome to the town of Unimportance.
Population: Me

Happiness and laughter use to fill the void in my heart where love should be, and I never had a worry in the world.
You respected me enough then to let me know where you were and when you would be around again, but communication turned to my own ignorance, except of your design.
Our "I love yous" were like clockwork, we knew when they would be said and how often, but they began escaping our mouths less and less until it was uncertain when they would be said again.
Instead of being affectionate when we could be, the distance between us became larger in scale, and we may as well not touch at all.
Would our embrace hurt like being served a 3rd degree burn? How wrong it all began to feel almost suggested so, but instead, the empty feeling I have while standing by you says everything.
Commitment morphing into disaster, romance transforming into resentment, and I crawl into my bed at night wondering what went wrong.
The sad thing is, I had it all planned out in my head. I had created a new folder in one of the best destinations of my memory and titled it "Our Life."
Unfortunately, nowadays that file is not found and I struggle to accept the deletion of such fond ideas.
Perhaps my creativity has dissipated, but I consider myself an artistic being so that can't be.
Perhaps my memory is corrupt or I never saved my thoughts in the first place, but I memorize material like a straight A student studying for an academic decathalon therefore the possibility does not exist.

The scenarios play out in my sore, overworked mind until the correct one makes a connection...
And I know that the next time you leave, you won't be coming home.

I'm miserable at best.
So what am I at worst?
The tears can flow
a heart can ache.
I'm searching for a smile
that isn't fake.
I'm starting to wonder
what to say...
what to do...
Where would I be
without you?

Will you be alright
knowing I cry about you every night?
Your love is far from sight,
but I swear I'll find it- for you I'll fight.

I could be a dream catcher
that crushes every nightmare that you've ever had.
I could be the single eyelash
that drops and you wish upon like you've nothing left to lose.
Or I could be a human,
with a beating heart inside my chest and a love for you like no other.

I search for logic.
Then what's a lie?
My eyes can close,
my vessels can quit.
Rememberance can cause amnesia
but the diagnosis doesn't fit.
I'm starting to ponder
what I look like...
What I really feel...
If you were never here,
would I even be real?

Would you be okay
realizing the things I murmur and say?
I'm a magician with ways,
because one thing I know is love always pays.

I could be a dream catcher
that crushes every nightmare that you've ever had.
I could be the single eyelash
that drops and you wish upon like you've nothing left to lose.
But then how would I be human?
I've a beating heart in my chest and I love you like no other.

The darkness is surrounding me like a curtain of misery,
Locking itself onto me so I couldn't remove it and emerge as the woman I am supposed to be.

But who am I supposed to be?

Perhaps I'm convinced that this is the only me I know,
But I look at myself in the mirror every day and grimace.

I know that face,
Those eyes are unmistakable, the jawline too, the lips with bow of cupid, the nose. . . I know that face.

But the person inside is someone I am not.

I know this. I FEEL this person trying to get out like a rat stuck inside of a cage.

I propose a toast!
To throwing myself on a journey of self discovery and the ruthless unveiling of the fraud I am now!

I will never allow myself to be smothered by these unapologetic thoughts of disaster.

This time it's going to be my choice.

And I choose to feel alive again.