As the rusty metal slides across my vein
I can’t help but cry out in pain
Not the pain of the sharp *******
The pain of my mental deviation
The red beads don’t pile up like they once did
I don’t hurt myself the same way I did as kid
Now I have more finesse and poise
I make art out of my injuries and treat my blades like toys
They itch after they bleed but it serves as a reminder
Yet to my destructive nature I’m just a little bit blinder
With each minor slice and crimson lined splice
I attempt to soothe my inflamed skin with cold ice
Always scarring even the smallest ones count
No matter if it’s a scratch or a **** in any amount
I choose to bleed and hurt myself
I hide them with hairbands in optimal stealth
I deserve the pain I inflict on my arm
There isn’t a day where I don’t think of self harm
Age has no impact when you’re willing to die
You don’t outgrow these tendencies and if you think you can that’s a lie
It haunts you when you’re awake and even more when you sleep
You count the cuts on your wrists instead of counting white fluffy sheep
Stripped of my childhood I was taken too early
Twelve years old when I started down this path surely
Not knowing how my life would have changed
Not understanding how my thoughts would become so deranged
I look at my scars and I smile inside
I remember every event because with each one part of me died
Six years later I’m still learning to cope
I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel but I do my best to hope
Because although it’s not visible that doesn’t mean it isn’t there
It’s like the sun caressing your face or the wind brushing your hair
Maybe one day I’ll make it out of this abyss
But for now I’m stuck with death’s kiss on my wrists

My frightened friend once said to me:
"I'm scared... I think I'm gay, no longer straight!"

To which I replied:
"I do not care, I like you for who you are, and to me you're still my mate"

The English vice,
Some Etonian curse –
Set down in grass
And purple verse,

Lavatory bred
With ransacked blood,
Skin slapping and
With a falling thud –

Takes boys at childhood,
Wishes them away,
With promises of popper fuelled buffets,

And poisons them with
Vice and virus red,
And sees them unmarried
Giving head.

I don’t regret a single thing I am,
I’ve tried it out
And can’t abide the sham –

I’ll **** men
And make them beg for more,
I’ll scrabble for their love upon the floor,

I’ll love men
And love will love me too,
I’ll love for love’s own sake
And when I’m through

I’ll die and I’ll be thankful that your hate
Never made me beg that I was straight.

I said I wasn't going to do this anymore, but here I am, doing this.

maybe I wanted
something to dissect
something tangible

I pick you apart
but it's all abstract

pen in the hand
I can draw a line
foot in the sand
I can draw a line

I think of you
and everything blurs
together

when the
weather
is
good enough,

i will
run
back home
to you.

to your warm hands
and your flushed
cheeks.
to your worn out pants
and clumsy feet.
to your lowest points
and even your peaks.

it is you that i
have been longing for.
wait for me
and you'll see how
a writer misses
their once
'mon amie'.

If I could build the world,
It'll have a paper zoo,
Full of paper animals,
It'll have a paper plane,
A paper town and paper train.

I'll create a little paper giraffe,
Because I know it'll make you laugh.
I'll draw it's spots like paper graphs,
And I'll make it walk on paper paths.
If we went to court I'd let you follow my paper trail.

Doesn't matter how much paper I spend,
I'll always have some paper to lend,
Some of the paper are hard and some bend,
When I text I'll hit a paper send...

But it doesn't matter,
Because you'd light all the paper,
Fall into arson and shatter,
My paper world.

No matter how much I can create or give,
You'll never let any one of my dreams live.