my mother always used to tell me,
"you don't have a soul,
you're a person,
you are one."
but aren't i supposed to feel light?
graceful and weightless?
all feel is an anchor,
*holding me and pulling me under.

i don't want to grow,
i want to wither & fall,
to the ground,
and sink into a dirt infinity.

everytime i inhale,
my lungs collapse,
and my chest caves in from
all of the pressure,
gravity,
weight,
of sadness birthed,
from the womb of how much
my mind wants to **** me.

and you feel the same,
and together we can sit in your room,
and together we can curl up into eachother
and talk about how much,
we want to die,
under your blankets..

*together

a black cat crossed the road today,
right in front of my car,
it stopped and looked at me for a moment,
and burned a hole that turned to a scar.

i continued to drive down the street,
and i didn't worry a bit,
because i knew any bad luck i'd meet,
i would ******* deserve it.

i feel my presence is much like Gangrene,
i am parasitic,
i am a debilitating disease
in your bones that breaks
them apart and gradually kills
you from the inside
out.

i come from middle class,
i've been given everything i ever wanted,
my parents love me unconditionally,
they pay a college amount of money for my highschool,
they've supported me throughout my entire life,

and yet:
i cannot get even average grades,
i hate how i look in the nice clothes my mother buys,
i don't eat much of the home cooked meals laid in front of me,
i don't sleep well at night in my warm bed,
i'm still not cured even with medication,
i'm still not cured even with therapy,
i hurt the body my mother gave me,
i break my parents' hearts everyday,
i cannot see the light in life,
and one day i will leave.

"don't"

D ealing with feelings.
O h please end this.
N othing else helps the pain.
' ...
T ell no one, not even your friends.

"don't" written on my arm with
these things bobbing in my thoughts,
surfacing then sinking only to
come back up like bile in an aching
throat after waves of sickness.

"don't harm here"
written on my arm.

i've got all the time in the world,
and all the tools i need,
to be someone or something,
but depression needs to feed.

i'll surround myself with people,
sweet smiles praise their lips,
i'll pretend to listen to their advice,
but i really couldn't give a ****.

they say they want to help,
but i know what they really think,
that if they say they understand,
it'll help me float instead of **sink.

I know that you hurt for I hurt for you,
and I know the pain in your bones that you feel,
heavy, like lead sinking under the layers of an ocean.

It's an awful feeling,
the feelings we feel but this pain,
your pain,
it makes life real.

And I know you won't believe me when I say,
that the dull ache in your body will fade,
and you will wake up with butterflies fluttering in your lungs,
and you will breathe in the music that life sings for you.

Stay strong for the world would miss you if you left it.

thought's broken,
mouth's chokin',
on the *******
i got hit with
during a may day
for god's sake
i let my mind fade
and ended up
wide eyed
and petrified
in a bed for the dead
but i was still alive.

after three years,
i can still count fourteen-year-old
summer days,
in lines parallel to eachother,
never touching,
straight lines embedded into
my young but old
skin.

my lips lack the luster
to make your malicious mind
continue to crave my capricious crimes
that i inflict infernally
upon your thoughts.

i'm up still and my body aches,
and my chest hurts,
and my bones quake.
~
something inside came out today,
it tore through my skin,
and lead me astray.
~
it made a hole when it left,
and it wont close up,
and i don't know how to fix it,

i'm so ******.

do you know how to feel,
while not feeling real?
or is even feeling at all,
a real feeling?

can you steal a feeling?
can you feel someone stealing,
your feelings?

is this even comprehendible?

something about her
puts a fire in my chest,
and makes me feel so
angry that i become
sick.

it's the fact she had you
when i should've,
and she didn't treat you
like the treasure you are.

and i swear if i ever see her,
i'll walk right up and
fake a smile,
shake her hand (if she so allows),
and let her know that i'm treating you
better than she could have ever even tried.

it's too late to eat,
that's too much to eat,
that's too little to eat,
why don't you eat?

oh please don't touch me,
for i'll melt into
a euphoric wonderland,
that i hate to love so much,
and my body shakes,
quivers,
my chest catches on each sharp inhale
as i lay on your bed &
ache for more of you.
oh please touch me**.

beauty is the mind,
the subtle tickings
and whirrs,
that make up thoughts.

i like how our minds
can make us forget things,
like how mine can't even remember
why it saw you for anything more
than a shallow,
heartless,
monster.

spread out like my fingers,
tiny webs formed,
across the canyon of corner to corner.
over millions of feet off the ground,
so it seemed.
such a small creature,
you mean no harm to anyone,
but the flies and the pests that creep in during the night.
you've done nothing wrong,
but trip across our floorboards,
and descend upon our tables.
but for some reason we feel,
that you have no reason to live,
and that no one would miss you when you leave.

crooked footsteps
fall and sink
into my mind's
dark abyss,
it is one filled with
cold thoughts that
are constantly choking
but never quite able
to wretch up the
potential of a good
thought.

arise my child,
from your stew,
bubbling and burning
and eating your way
through my stomach's lining.

arise and creep up into
my chest and lungs,
and nest there and
stop my breathing.

slither through my cold veins
and block my heart's valves,
stop my pulse,
i beg you,
i've raised you for
seventeen long years and
the only favor i ask of you now,
is to **** me.

telling me i'm worthless,
                   won't make you worth more,
            and telling me i'm a mistake,
doesn't make you less of one.
          and saying i'm disgusting,
                won't make you any cleaner.
and telling me i should be dead,
                  shouldn't make you any happier,
            but it does.
thanks.

my fingers snubbed out
the last of the lights in the room and
we sat there in total darkness
waiting for death but he never
came no matter how much we
begged him to.

i want you to go home and
look in your mirror. | .rorrim       g
                                                    n
and i want you to                i
tell me what you see.       k
                                   n
                         i
all you're t h
right now,
is how you aren't perfect.

well perfection is a myth,
a tale,
a legend,
a story told to young girls & boys,
so that they keep coming home,
and looking in their mirrors. | .srorrim

at six thirty every morning,
i wake up and turn my body
towards my alarm that's blaring,
i shut it off and realize
that i didn't wake up next to you.

you make me so happy,

but i'm still a miserable human being

and i can't control my emotions,

the little things are getting to me

and i'm starting to erode,

already.

early winter mornings,
wake me up and
chill me to my bones,
but remind me i'm
alive,
because the cold hurts,
stings and burns my skin,
and that's how i know,
i'm naturally warm.

it doesn't matter if you think i'm thin

because to me,

all that matters is the number on the scale.

you're the same,
except this time you're noticing me,
and you're willing to talk,
and you're .. different.

same dark hair,
same blue eyes,
my god your eyes are so beautiful,
but i'm gonna keep my opinions quiet for now.

three years passed,
and you never passed through my mind,
but here you are finally at arms length,
and finally within my grasp.

time changes things i know,
but for some reason..
my feelings for you,
are the same, but different this time around.

they took me into a musty room,
barely enough light shown through the windows,
but there was enough for me to see,
the dust and breaths people had left behind.
i took my seat on and leather armchair,
i ran along its arms and felt the divots,
and felt the pieces missing,
and some were still attached by a string,
so i promptly put them back in place,
only for them to fall once more.

my chest is constantly
like fault lines,
trembling and
aching
and shaking under
my skin,
because i'm not
"stable" and
i'm not "social"
and i'm never going
to be.

your chest hurt today,
so did your throat.

but i don't feel bad,
because you deserved both.

Two to Five years they're saying
and god only knows that
I cannot live without my Mother's love

sometimes i can hear my thoughts,
as if someone were laying next to me,
speaking.

and the things this person says to me,
doesn't let me sleep much,
anymore.

silk so soft and sleek,
wrapped around my throat makes me weak,
and cool leather cuffs,
turns breaths into huffs,
being unable to see,
takes all power from me,

**but that's the way i like it.