i grew up in a house of whispers and maybe that's why i still can't talk.
i grew up in a house of "hands to yourself" and maybe that's why i still don't like to be touched.
i grew up in a house of "daddy will visit again soon" and maybe that's why i still don't trust anyone.
i grew up in 6 different houses and maybe that's why i still have trouble calling this house a home.
they say "don't make a home out of a person" but i've never been able to make a home out of a house and i'm sick of being homeless
I GREW UP WAY TOO FAST AND MAYBE THAT'S WHY IM BROKEN.
i grew up in a house of held breaths and maybe that's why i still can't breathe.
i grew up in a house of "don't tell the kids at school" and maybe that's why my shoulders are still heavy.
i grew up in a house that was always empty and maybe that's why i'm still lonely.
i grew up in a house of "i'll be home later" and maybe that's why i still can't sleep.
i grew up in a house of "take care of your brother" and maybe that's why i still can't take care of myself.
i grew up in a house of lost photo albums and maybe that's why i still don't like having my picture taken.
i grew up in a house without any "i love you"s and maybe that's why i still don't love myself.
now i'm growing up in a house of "keep your head down" and "don't make him mad" and maybe that's why i haven't been able to look at anyone.

Try your hardest not to love people like me
I promise it will be worth the effort
To avoid a heart that beats as foul as mine does
One that will take you to the ugliest places you’ve ever seen
And have you dance in dirt and swirl in broken glass
But I’ll kiss you in those places
Every one of them- in such beautiful ways
You’ll start to think blood smells like my perfume
And that thorns are more beautiful than flowers
I’ll make you want me
In the way that a tyrant wants a kingdom
In the way that lions want antelopes
It will be maddening, it will make a savage out of you
And by the end of it when I leave
And surely I will
You’ll be a hybrid of a human
That hunts for hysteria and hungers for hostility
You’ll be so soiled by me
You’ll see the world as I do
You’ll understand a little more about things
And how awful everything is
You’ll know why we name hurricanes and not rainbows
And I’ll be one of the hearts worth the effort to not love.

You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.

i had your heart in my hands. and i dropped it in confusion.

number one, do not use depression as an excuse. do not use a flaw in chemistry to contaminate another soul.
second, a home is never a building. it's built a human, and it's constantly on the move - embrace changes. but like buildings, it may get demolished.
third, the hardest goodbyes are never bade. notice the colours fading, you're close.
number four, realise that the past is a broken record ought to be disposed.
fifth, all suppressed truths become toxic. not all harsh truths are better than lies, remember, telling a lie causes the liar to believe it. it might change him.
number six, emptiness is heavy. and feeling heavy weighs you down. $tay high, you'll feel lighter.
seventh, smiles are just expressions of joy. not radiating it leaves traces on your heart.

i had your heart in my hands, and i dropped it, i dropped it each time.

( FAH )

you should’ve never unpacked your bags,
because it gave me this expectation that you were in this for the long run. i’m still running. i have swallowed so much blood that tastes like your regret from biting down my tongue to cage it behind my teeth from screaming about you to a world that wants my blood for ink.
i am more than a number, but 24 makes me feel better than 26, so i sit in jeans that leave red marks on my hips and make it hard to breathe, but see it’s two inches and
i am more than a number, but i know every test score i ever got and still remember fourth grade and question three and crying because suddenly my mistakes had weight and i couldn’t fix things by saying sorry and
i am more than a number, but i was always the middle child, always the not-quite one, not the best friend to anyone, just a girl with kind eyes and jeans that are a little bit too tight and
i am more than a number but to you i am seventeen, ten and three. and lets be clear; it’s the three that haunts me, because *** doesn’t matter and ‘girlfriend’ is just a label, but i wish i was the first girl you truly loved, and sometimes i still wish i was the last, but with you i fear i’ll forever be just another number.
i drove over 17 bridges the other day and next week i'll do it again and i think nobody gets what that means except maybe you.
i just tell them i love the scenery, that somebody must've made these trees blush just for me.
you know how i love to change the subject?
i bet they'd love the view. i bet you would too.
and all these metaphors for other things are beside the point.
this is a metaphor for why i don't wear my seatbelt, a metaphor for why whiskey knows me better than you could ever try to.
all the buildings seemed to sag yesterday and all the stars are doing that cliche thing where they talk quiet jet noise and some lumbering giant made everything shake.
not those hand metaphors, not another one of those & keep the sea to yourself,
i think it was a train, it's sound hugged the embankment for a moment and then trailed off into nowhere,
and that's kind of like me
how there's a town called 'rescue' close to my home and it's no coincidence that i've never been there.
i’m just flatlining now and hoping that you can look at the next girl the way i looked at you.

Discrimination
is an elevator that only
                                goes
                                down.

They said she suffered from visions, so
They locked her up in her room,
I heard her pacing the floor in there
To softly cry in the gloom,
Her food they slid in under the door
And that’s when I heard her shout:
‘You can’t keep me forever in here,
You must let my nightmares out!’

But a doctor listened outside the door
And shook his head as he went,
A Priest then wafted some incense in
And muttered a sacrament,
But no-one dared to unlock the door
For they’d heard a howl within,
‘She must be conjuring demons there
Or some terrible type of sin.’

At night when everyone was asleep
I’d put my head to the floor,
And whisper low to my sister through
The gap, just under the door.
‘Go find the key,’ she would say to me,
‘And unlock the door in the night,
We’ll creep on out while the house is still,
Take off while the Moon is bright.’

I didn’t know where to find the key,
I didn’t know where it was,
It wasn’t hung up on the kitchen hook
Or the nail in the wooden cross.
She begged me, ‘Keep on looking for it,
It’s the only chance for me,
Then we will be together again
At last, and finally free!’

But then her visions returned again
And lights shone under the door,
While sounds, like animals caught in pain
Built up to a sullen roar.
I whispered, ‘Sis, can you hear me now,
I’m scared,’ and started to bawl,
She cried, ‘There’s lights and a million things
All creeping out of the wall.’

I went to beat on our parent’s door
But I heard my father snore,
I ran downstairs and I found the key
They’d hid in the bureau drawer.
I hesitated before I turned
The key in my sister’s lock,
The door swung open and lay ajar
As I stood, stock-still in shock.

For in the room was a wooded glade
With creepers clogging the walls,
Bats were hung from the old lampshade,
The bed was a waterfall,
But of my sister, never a sign
She must have been lost in the trees,
But monsters struggled out of the wall
As I fell in dread to my knees.

They say I suffer from visions, so
They’ve locked me up in my room,
I couldn’t cope with my sister’s loss
They said, but she’s in a tomb.
I know she’s not, for I hear her whisper
Under the door at night,
‘We’ll creep on out while the house is still,
Take off while the Moon is bright.’

Then sounds, like animals caught in pain
Build up to a sullen roar,
I call for her, again and again,
‘Just get the key to the door.’
But then she fades, and she slips away,
So far that I have to shout:
‘You can’t keep me forever in here,
You must let my nightmares out!’

David Lewis Paget

lips so dry your crunchy words become combustible. my heart is made of fuel and my head gets heavy when i inhale the clouds in your beloved mind. bruised skin absorbs lies and that is why you never tell me that i look pretty covered in green. the edge of her smile cuts chasms deep enough to drown in when she cries out hidden onyx, but you still let her sleep on your side of the bed while i am gone. you beg me to leave, but no god can ever kiss my thoughts beautiful enough to love the man you have chosen to be. your heart ***** her poison like a love-sponge and i do not even care if you burn up in her veins. heaven is only an opportunity if you choose to be with boys with red velvet tongues and songs about forever

*(k.w)

Time is money,
and money is power,
and power moves people
who prosper, and flower,
and grow into workers.
And workers bring service.
But service brings customers;
workers get nervous.
And nerves cause anxiety,
panic, and pain,
which cause workers' mistakes,
which, with pride, create shame.
And with shame, all the workers
stay home, never trying
to make something else
of their lives. Never buying
the houses they actually
want. They regret.
And regret causes anger,
and will to forget,
and forgetfulness causes
complacence and silence,
which causes more anger,
which brings about violence,
which leads to destruction,
and passionless death,
and then one lonely worker,
his last lonely breath:

"The world stole my power.
Ain't stealing a crime?"

But power is money.
And money is time.