showers at 3am
carrying dead limbs up the stairs
a moment of quiet, finally
until
the lcd screen vibrates

Share stars.
Name me.
Share stars & crew in silence.
Violating geometry.  
You Pierce me.
Odorless.  
Formless soul.
Questions hang near your pink temple.
I fade betrayed.
Again.

Like a baby's mouth you suckle.
Amber treat.
Place hold with demise darling.

Smile with me.
Jump in.
Frame smaller than this nest.

Less than a month ago, I lay on a cold slab in a dark room, convinced I was dying. Tonight I lay still in my soft bed and realize, maybe I still am.

Its like suffocating, you know? Being drowned in your own ******* emotions. Only fitting that the bad blood in my veins decides to clot right there, in my lungs, in the sickest poetic justice imaginable. I couldn't breathe. Am I even breathing now?

Don't get me wrong, the doctors filled me up with pills and good fortunes, telling me I would be fine if I was careful, cautious, a perfect little good girl. And I smiled and took deep breaths even though every breath killed me. So if my lungs are fine, then why am I not breathing?

Looking back, that morning I woke with sharp pains in my sides I told the doctors I had never felt something like that before. And in a way, I wasn't lying. It had never been so physical before. But the pain, the crying, the inability to breathe, well those were things I was far too familiar with. So doctor, if I'm going to live, why am I not breathing?

****, the writer of my story is one sadistic *******. I mean, that symbolism. Choking on your own lifeblood? **** near perfect. It would have been the perfect turnaround story. The mentally unstable girl finally truly stands at death's doorstep when she doesn't want to, and she realizes maybe life is worth it. That maybe even a **** up deserves dreams, deserves happiness. The tale should have ended there, right? I learned, I had that moment when I knew I didn't want to die. I felt changed. So if I am so changed, if that is my happy ending, then why am I not breathing?

Happily ever after doesn't exist. Life doesn't work that way. Tragedy is around every corner, particularly when your chemical makeup is in a constant struggle with your will to live. But everyone is so thankful, so happy I am safe and well and normal again. **** normal. **** safe. ******* **** well. If I am so well, then why am I not breathing?

Its great, you know, knowing that the "thankful for being alive" feeling will never last for me. My wiring won't allow it. All around me everyone is so proud. They say I'm strong and brave and better. Funny thing is they totally missed the metaphor. **** my facades, **** my brain, because my blood is thinning, and my world is spinning, and I'm not breathing.

clearly the "not thinking about you" wish
is highly ineffective
due to the fact that the number of poems about you is comparable to the human population on earth
kind of like carly simon
my words contradict themselves
making me sound utterly desperate for your attention and love
which may or may not be true

I hope I break my neck, on the way down from the back steps of your ego.

The deed is done
You have succeeded in making me
Feel like sht
For your own selfish sense of gain
And strength
It hurts
Having a place for you in my heart
That I now don't know
How to deal with
Cleaning out my soul
Of anything negative
Trying to fill the void you left
With happiness

Scrub scrub scrub
Till I see blood
Out dam spot
I say
But it doesn't work
And it never goes away
The water burns
And my hands are red
Why can't I get clean?

"Action speaks louder than voice" ,
only works in uncommitted relationships.

You are not his only choice,
but always steals a kiss.
He reaches for your hand to hold,
but you're not sure if it's just for tease.

Waits for you 'till your shift's off,
other times it's your hair already turning grey.
He drives you home,
then drives another the next day.

Then he suddenly distanced himself,
saying he have other plans.
You swallowed your pride and plead,
asked him for a second chance.

He had a firm no,
but with a vague reason.
With a broken heart, you know what to do,
and that is to accept and move on.

You're in the middle of the process,
and yet he interrupts.
He does what he does best,
and is again closing the gaps.

You're in a tight spot,
but you should know better.
Listen to us with no buts,
we don't want you to be hurt again by that heart-breaker.

What have we told you,
about what we felt about that person?
Someone who purposely do,
leave holes for his victims to fall.

So guard your heart more,
do not let just anyone to penetrate through.
You should lock the door,
give the only key to someone who is true.

And the next time you take the free fall again,
we'll just always be here as your friend.
And if you ask us out to dinner to tell your pain,
we'll just remind you then and there..

"Action speaks louder than voice." ,
only works in uncommitted relationships.