Your standards of morality are so rigid and so orthodox that they're immoral
Because in the end, nothing matters
No one is being hurt
Right and wrong don't matter at the point where they have no impact
I need to live and breathe rather than think profusely and be condemned for my every action
Because everything I do is flawed in your mind
And I don't know what to do anymore
Because we'll never see eye to eye
And my rationale is "wrong" in your mind
And your views are obscene and impossible
Let me live a life where I can act like a child without being imprisoned
Because I am imprisoned by my thoughts
The thoughts that are seen as ridiculous
And you can continue to think of be
as an irrational
self consumed
psychotic
suicidal
thoughtless
cold
human being who cares about nothing but myself

I'm writing you this letter
So my life is not a lie
I'm writing you this letter
So that I may say goodbye
Please don't shed any tears
This is what I want
Life is too hard
Its not your fault
I'm in need of a friend
Someone who will help me through
I'm in need of someone who was as good to me as you

I look down at the yellow tiles
I trace the orange petals with my eyes
The bucket is on the floor next to the toilet
I'll be right out turns into on of my biggest lies
I feel a breeze from the window
And close the vent that resides in its center
The snow is glistening in the moonlight
Such a lonely winter..

I pull down the shade
It wraps around itself like an old scroll
There's footsteps, loud and strong, coming from down the hall
Shhh
Deep breaths

The paint on the wall is flaking
Like my sanity, it withers away
There's a voice inside my head that keeps telling me to stay
It wreaks of *****
Hair clogs the drain on the floor
I'm going to do this
Lock the door**

I retrieve the ammonia
And pour it into the bucket of bleach
The room is small and the maximum capacity of one has been reached
Something comes out of the bucket
A cloud of gas
Finally something will carry me home
Freedom alas

The room starts to fill
My lungs start to burn
It's taking so long
Death is all I yearn

What if someone found me
What if I break their heart
Maybe I shouldn't do this
It could tear them apart
So I dump out my concoction
And I walk away
No one ever found out
And I lived another day

i simply dont know

whats going on

with all this cold

it seems to half frozen my emotion
in one stage

frozen my  way of thinking
and it cant thaw

am still there
in that state

i simply
cannot seem
to be thawing
no matter what


******...

You put your fingers in the back of your throat
In hopes you can gain what you have already lost
control
But you are lying to yourself
Because you never really had it

I write for myself.
It's almost impossible to turn my pain into art when it hurts as terribly as it does.
I am on the very edge of growth, hardly a first step.
Every line I write, I can only think of those who lead me here.
Calling them lovers is like calling my best friend a dog.
Sure, he's a canine, but he is no dog. He is a best friend. To me.
Calling them lovers was once accurate, that's how I felt, but now;
They're more. She- Is more. More than the ones I daydream of.
More than the ones coating the walls of my nightmares.
They are not people. They are not women. They are not loves. They are, unexplainable.
I showed Belle my soul. She showed me hers. And we encompassed each other. One step ahead.
Faith too. But she was always two steps back, never forward. And she didn't really love me.
And the most beautiful name, the one society shortened and butchered to simply "Kit-Kat."
She- was more than a fascination. She was an enabler.  Like being the target guiding an arrow,
She lead me, kick-started my life. She was the first.
Or at least, this declining helix spiral I call my current living condition.

Now this winter has come, an annuality to when it started.
I was laughing and learning her gorgeous name at this time last year.
I remember walking around that empty playground awaiting her responses to my petty flirts.
All was well. But I was too slow, and he was too entrancing, mature, for her.
She chose- and it wasn't me she was looking at- it killed me.
I craved her. I dreamed her. I can still recall one specific, for I have it saved.
Here it is:
     "I had a dream late last summer where I awoke in a white room in a comfy white bed.
      The room had a window for an entire wall and outside I could see snow melting off of black,
      naked trees which spread deep in to a forest of the same colors.
      And that's when I noticed a beautiful white face with dark hair and two blue eyes.
      She was just sitting there in light blue underwear and a white tee-shirt and she looked at me and smiled.
      And I moved over and kissed her and I lay over her just staring into those chilled moons for eyes of hers for the longest time."
     "And that for me, is nirvana."
And that for me, was nirvana.
Her and I. Winter. Purity, love. Cold and warm. White, blue, black and brown. The colors us.
God- I miss that. Those dreams. Those fantasies. Getting nearer to that, her voice and laugh.
-

Let's crawl into bed together
and stay there 'til the world gets better.
If it all just stays the same, then
we can make love in the flames.