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Holding your heart out for your lover with both hands,
Trusting that they will not harm it,
But not pulling away if they do.
The rushing river we drink from with many others,
Drinking the dirtied flow to purify the stream again
Should there be someone to soil it.
Enduring the pain of truth,
Like breathing pure oxygen
And accepting it into your lungs.
And hate is simply indifference.
It's not like I wanted to write this or anythingshirts, really, what a funny thing to love
it just protects you from the rain
from the wind from the dirt below you from the dirt around you
really just a simple basic necessity of modern life,
nothing that cool or inspiring but
you can buy a shirt at your department store for
five bucks a piece and yet
you can buy a similar garment at a brand name store for thousands
wonder why that is as both objects
protect your skin which protects your organs
which protects your vulnerable heart
probably our shirts are a physical entity of the walls
which we build around us
a sort of armor for our sense of love
guess that some of us feel no need to envelope ourselves
in protection while others feel the need to
spend money on locking their feelings away
and well, you spent your money
why not fall in love with your barriers themselves?
How many timesHow many times have you looked
Upon the palm of your hands
And saw them dry and cracking?
How many times have you looked
At the mankind in front of you
And saw yourself in a glass cage?
How many times have you looked
Into the dream you had
And thought it could be reality?
How many times have you looked
In the eyes of your enemy
And couldn't find yourself?
How many times have I looked that way?
Fatebelieving in Fate is a terrible thing.
i haven't believed in Fate before, but to have
so many horrible things happen to me in
such an Unrelenting, Circular, Never-ending chain
the thought of all these events
just being Innocent, Playful coincidences is
LiesNo, I don't think it's called "gullible."
I don't think it's called "idealism."
Not "oblivious," either.
It wasn't as if I was blind.
I did test the drawbridge before stepping out on it.
I saw pigs and cows and elephants walk past it,
Skipping with each step, cheerful and carefree.
They passed safely.
The bridge didn't even sway.
I, a human, surely don't weigh much more than all those animals.
Or so I believed, until I actually walked on it:
My heart's jealousy was seen as bricks.
Tons, tons of bricks stuffed inside of my emotions
The bridge didn't waver at all as it decided.
It snapped, and with almost a pushing force,
It threw me into oblivion.
Darknessevery night is the same
every night it is the same
every night the same pain strikes me
chest pains, that is
his name is Darkness,
my friend who is about fifteen times large as me
his hand holds me every night in a tight embrace
squeezing the air out of me
feeding off of my blood
and tears, especially tears
he tells me those are the tastiest
and he wants them every night
if i tried to fight,
he would surely win
so i let him take the life out of me
and cry some more
and drink liters and liters of water every night,
letting my eyes flow a river
Darkness likes to keep me alive though
he sucks up the tears,
never is merciful enough to let me drown in them
i'll never be able to get out of this
every time i try to whisper
he reminds me of a name
and suddenly my throat is tight
and there i am
If I Could Fabricate My UniverseIf I could fabricate my universe,
It would surely have a center.
Its center would stand a pinnacle,
And at the pinnacle would be one who cannot exist.
the i don't want to live poemwhen i don't want to live
i don't want to live
and i honestly don't want to live right now
living is too hard too painful too stressful
please take the life away from me
but i'm still alive, see, i have flowing blood
but i don't want to see it anymore
i want to cut and cut and cut all of my blood away
drain it from my body watch my heartbreak drain away
i want to die i want to die i want to die
the feeling of breathing is disgusting to me
my body makes me breathe and i hate it i hate it so much
the pain is almost physical my chest cannot withstand the pressure
please release me from this prison
i never did wrong, i don't deserve a life sentence
a death one would suit me well
but i'm too fucking cowardly to end it all
why do i feel like there's still a point in living
because i promised time i would wait for it
i would wait for time to save me
time has always been on my side
but timing never has
but when i don't want to live
i wish [someone] would tell me
if you die you wou
They try to help me
They're trying, I can tell
I ignore it because they speak words of logic and mine
Mine are words from my flesh
My blood, my skin, my muscles, my organs, my fat, my bones
My brain isn't in it
My brain was shut down by my heart
And I was never strong enough to get it back
They tell me to swim
Learn to swim, stop hanging on an anchor to stay afloat
Swim and swim away
Swim onto an island by yourself where you can be happy
The anchor is the anchor of my ship and I must with it
I want to
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
BloodlustI hate you.
I passionately hate you with every single cell of my body.
Everything about you is so disgusting to me,
So pathetic and annoying.
I hate the way you act and talk.
I absolutely despise your essence in general.
Every time I see you,
My neutral expression falls into a frown.
Or rather, I don't even give enough of a care to frown.
As I try my hardest not to glare,
I bite the inside of my cheek.
So hard that I feel my own teeth digging into flesh,
So that that I taste my own blood.
My blood tastes sweet, and I savor every drop.
But not as sweet as your blood would taste;
Surely yours is sweeter and better to taste than mine.
I would love to take apart your flesh with my own claws
And see your raw composition lying there,
So vulnerable, so pitiful, so... Cute.
So beautiful I'd laugh.
No, not the laugh you'd hear from a usual villain,
But the lighthearted laugh you'd hear from a couple on a date,
A child watching his favorite television show,
A man making jokes with his friends.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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