Everyday
I see
bits of me
slip away,

sincere parts
of my heart
chipped away
with heart ache’s rain,
they disintegrate
under the pressure of pain
and the pleasure I pursue
to try and stay amused.

The price I pay
to make it
with a little
extra to spend
at the end
of the workday
is the slow erosion
of the person I was,
and who I am becoming
is a mystery
even to me.

She was darkness,
magical princess
of ecstatic pains.

Queen of wishes,
lips bruised
with the brush
of lust,
and the power
to pull from
all of us
the very veins
that worked
webs from
within
our supple skin.

Tantalizing terror
goddess Arachne
who spun her web
to entrap thee,
the enraptured
rotting zombie.

Poison on her lip
with nine inch
finger nails
that scratched
the flesh
of innocent men
and sent them
straight to hell.

Hazel eyes
with specks of blue
swimming around
her dark irises.

Like black holes
surrounded by
cosmic gasses,
and like those holes
she swallowed
lost souls
who dared to
venture near.

They never closed
the closet door
or saw the foot prints
crossing the kitchen floor.

They did not notice the blood
dripping down the cabinet
drawers.

They never saw the gore
or smelled the pungent
carcass left in it.

They did not see
the sloppy streak
of crimson,
that took me
very close to them,

and as I moved
with all that swagger,
swinging a silver
stinging dagger,
they never saw it coming,

but they felt the blade
slicing in
to their fragile skin.

This is my confession,
that is where I left them
little broken bodies
sinking in
their own
blood soaked skin.

sometimes i think about killing myself
i have these roots and stems planted within me
but i only let the roses blossom on my skin
this is what is acceptable
you can’t start a conversation with “hey, i might hurt myself today”
i don’t know exactly where things got away from me
i can’t pinpoint the location where i fell apart again
all i know is it seems like it’s getting too hard to pretend that everything is okay
i started therapy again yesterday
there is a part of me that thinks there is a way to get better
there is a part of me that knows there isn’t

As they stand there
In skimpy clothes
Ignoring the letching
The leering
Calling to the lonely
The lost the sad
The desperate
The depraved
Are you looking
For a date
A good time
Always in danger
Taking the risk
To earn the
Money for the next fix
The next meal
The babies clothes
No one asks their
Stories