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P.T.S.D.I eat these pills like candy,
an abuse that feels like love.
Drink hard liquor when it’s handy.
Nose to nose, push and shove.
My self-worth is more than this.
More than you’ll ever fucking know.
A vicious cycle, round and round.
A callous past that won’t let go.
I can’t be your conscience.
I’m not the angel on your shoulder.
Our mattress up in flames,
we just toss and turn and smolder.
You tried to give me everything,
the good and the bad.
But I want more, and more, and more.
Stubborn hunger, addicted and sad.
Blot clots between my legs.
Gut wrenching pain within.
Remanence of you,
the rancid stench of what could have been.
This line between love and hate
gets thinner as I grow strong.
Not afraid to sleep alone anymore,
I’ve fucking been alone all along.
Restless.I have a soul, distinct and alien.
I feel it beneath my skin, pulsating.
Itching to escape my body.
Rushing through my fingertips like a fist-shaped hole in the wall.
Jaws always clenched, wired shut.
Sanding down teeth and bone.
Resentment and bloody gums.
What will my aching discomfort bring today?
Pick a symptom, any symptom.
Chronic headaches? Dry heaves? Off-kilter equilibrium?
I'm dwindling - had and felt it all.
I disappear by the pound and cut off all my hair.
Disappear with time and sickness and mouthfuls of pills.
Doctors got me on this Xanax diet.
With a wish in one hand and shit in the other.
So I drink a glass of wine.
And I laugh at the tragic, boring, cynical person I've become.
Existence is the mere struggle just to remember to breathe every few seconds.
Lungs black, filled with smoke that I keep telling myself is medicinal.
My anxious, vagabond soul will not rest till I am dead.
Free at last, free at last.
The Man in Red Plaid.These walls are my friends.
They know me better than I know myself.
Dark energies surround me.
Cradling me in cold arms.
Thumping like death rattles.
I fester on top of my mattress.
My comfort zone of dead skin cell bed sheets.
Stained with blood,
And the man in red plaid stands in the corner.
Always staring at me.
Like lonesome hallucinations in the night.
Pressing on my chest while I sleep.
He’s the only one who knows my name.
Home.Beautiful eyes are sociopathic.
His static-blue gaze sends shivers down my spine.
I fell in love at sunrise,
with threadbare jeans and a dull hangover.
Studying the curves and bends of his body,
imperfectly designed with me in mind.
Admiring his sleepy-eyed, alabaster complexion.
In the mornings, he smells like home.
I want to bury my sorrows in the soft nape of his neck.
I want to stay there forever.
Insignificant.Time slips away from her,
dripping between her nearly arthritic fingers.
Entire years pass in her peripheral vision,
lost in a spinning whirlwind of color and shape,
love and indifference,
vertigo and delirium.
She meanders aimlessly through the daily motions and daydreams,
feeling partly hardened,
and partly brokenhearted.
She is lonesome in a familiar way,
aching as though she had lost a precious limb.
This is the aging process,
and everyday she feels several steps closer to her own deathbed.
She floats in and out of reality,
too abstract for that simple, beautiful, middle ground.
Fantasizing about lives she will never live,
confidence she will never have,
and a romance that she never should have expected in the first place.
Decomposition.Existence is disintegration.
Flowers curled and withered.
Paper bones and yellowed skin.
This skeleton is my own.
My history -- a nameless tombstone.
An antique mirror.
A crumbling clot of dirt.
This is what it’s worth.
There is no God.
No tree of life.
Nothing grows here anymore.
Distorted.I hear things.
in my head.
Pupils dilate like wormholes.
I am catatonic.
I am wrong inside.
Heredity.I'm afraid of you.
My post-traumatic deceiver
with a heart three sizes too small.
Loving you is a sacrifice -
an underestimated dare.
So I keep both feet on the ground
and my fists up in the air.
Violence runs in the bloodline -
a big man makes real big threats.
That alcohol speaks louder
than your capability of regret.
Hate swells in your soul -
in your drunken,
You are someone else,
just a werewolf in disguise.
Now I know the anger exists.
No apologies -
don't fucking bother.
I saw the devil inside you
and he looked just like your father.
Something I Can Never Be.If I had any
I wouldn't look
in his direction.
he's all I've ever
He's the object
of my affection.
He is liberation;
Even when he
breaks my heart,
brings me to my knees.
I want to feel safe
in his arms,
I'm reluctant to commit.
I hate how much
I love him,
for fear of things
I can't admit.
he takes me
the pills mean more
the love of his life;
a love that
can never be.
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Or what they want to be
But unlike those
I gave up
A while ago
And they can't tell me to my face that I'm a failure so they heavily imply
That my lacking presence
And even less impressive
Tendency for slacking off is evidence
That I am stupid and a fool and nothing more than such a waste of resources
And it's a disappointment
That I don't hold their ideals
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
DanielYou are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
Because He'sHe’s listening
Millions of them.
A flash of red
And a navy hat
No warning – now motionless
With skin turned to shadows.
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
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