I am mesmerized by the way he caresses my hands in his own boney flesh.
The way he seduces me with poisonous kisses that can break me down into mesh.
The way he carefully watches over me like a vulture circling around its prey.
How he comforts me with gifts of razor blades to end my horrible day.
How his love makes me physically ill to the point where I throw up his bland tasting food.
His lust for a lifeless body, patiently waiting for it to be me when the time is good.
I am in love with the way he looks at my desecrating body.
A flaming hunger in his eyes, I think it is only noticeable to me.
The way he notices my blood is weathering my heart as time keeps passing.
And the way he loves me for who I am without a lack of misunderstanding.
How he holds me oh so tightly when my mind is having another mental earthquake.
How he whispers to me that it will be okay to sleep for an eternity with him because the world I'm in is so fake.
I like the way he tells me to stop breathing and act like I'm at a state of eternal rest.
And the way he looks at my still heart instead of my *******.
The way he slowly runs his fingers through my fresh cut wounds and scars with a face of delight.
He says I made myself into an abstract work of art, always covered in pain and let myself be without a fight.
He traces my rib cage ever so softly as it is bound to turn soon to dust.
His heart makes my body quiver with unrequited passion for him I so dearly lust.
And his sinister smile he gives when he sees me cry.
I know he only partakes in comforting me as to not pry.
Because he knows just exactly what swirls around in my head.
He knows he can make me calm by talking to me about the life of the dead.
Because that is what he knows best, taking care of a heart that has wilt.
I mean, who wouldn't love a man so sweet who can rid us of self hatred and guilt?
I love the way he touches my soul to make me tremble, moan, and scream.
And the pressure builds up to the ****** until he wickedly stops and I'm left to cry out a water stream.
I am in love with the way he leaves me in hunger for days as to keep me on the edge.
And the way he takes away my breath with his tongue dancing on mine while my feet dangle from a ledge.
He promises to stay by my side as his after-life lover.
He has me wrapped around his boney finger like my neck in a hover.
He holds my bleeding hands as I fade in and out of what I was prone.
Because his love for me is so strong, he doesn't want me to transition to the next life alone.
He doesn't cry or tell me to stop at all.
He caresses me in his arms and tells me to let myself fall.
And for his understandings of my weak heart and absent mind,
I am in love with Death, because his heart is always aligned with mine.
He knows exactly what I want and what I want to hear.
He shows his love for me, with no doubt or fear.
I am in love with you, Death, my brittle heart is yours.
I promise one day we'll be together and for you my soul will eternally pour.
For you have always been there, speaking to me through my mind.
Reassuring me that you I will soon find.
I love you, Death, for you are my only company.
I'll come soon to you, and in unity we will be.

I am discovering myself more and more now.
I remember, I used to hide behind the societal shadow,
I have hid in for a long time.
Suppressing what was known to be a bad sign.

I tried to forget the softness in her hands,
or the way her soft hair would blow onto my face,
entangling me in the scent of flower gardens in the sunrise,
silent whispers in our late-night sleepovers,
and waking up beside her dark circled eyes and her morning messy hair framed on my bed.
I'd glance at the mosaic, but had always turned away.

For awhile, I believed my mind was playing around with my heart like a toy.
I was always taught to fall in love with boys.
Besides, I never thought that I would remember these sensations again.
until the boys had left my heart broken.

And while the love I shared with the male flesh was of my happiest times,
I had to face the fact that he could never be mine.
And so I came to terms with the aesthetics of a girl.
When I first saw her, my brain had whirled.

I was confused for awhile, trying to find if this feeling was true.
And one day, a girl in my art class gave me the proof.
Though I'm quite timid, her sentences and sense of humor laced her tongue like silk.
I couldn't help but glance and let my feelings for her mat together like fabric felt.

Though I'm not ready to begin a relationship until my heart has completely healed,
I will admit, I like girls, I like boys, I know this is what I feel.
I'm understanding myself better and better now.
I hope everyone will accept me to somehow.

I'm on a whim contemplating between disparity and continuity.


Stuck between where the fire meets its maker doused in gasoline.

Who self destructed to the point where her hands aren't clean.


And turning a deforested soul into a forest full of wanderlust.

Moving along with Earth's rotation as she becomes crystallized into her origin of star dust.


Cemented between inhaling the start of another new season.

And exhaling out gun powder from the war waged against self treason.


Feeling the outline of my fingerprints just to pretend his skin is still touching mine.

And reading the crystal ***** as they fall down my cheeks telling me his heart was never aligned.


I can't choose between the feeling of infinity and ephemerality.

get me out of my head before it all begins to crash.
I can already see the fire on my left arm turning my skin into ash.

the once healed streaks begging to be opened once more.
begging for the admiration of the cold sharp metal they much adore.

get me out of my head before my hands begin to shake.
save me from my vision that scatters in my brain like an earthquake.

full of fear and confusion as to why everything is turning gloom.
wondering why, if all you ever wanted was to be loved and put into a safe, warm room.

get me out of my head before my chest begins to tighten.
I'm choking on my own words, tears and breath only to make me feel less enlightened.

I am scared of myself but I can't find refuge or escape.
A battleground worn out and torn by pierced bullets through a heart shape.

get me out of my head before I tear through my flesh.
gauge out my eyes and tear myself apart because I'm such a vile mess.

let the river of veins flow to the surface with its red colored stream.
watch as my world go dim and into an ever-lasting dream.

get me out of my head before I break down and contemplate my fate
get me out of my head before...
****... it's too late.

You act as if you aren't the root of the statements you deliberately claim.
As if telling me my character is flawed and I am everything to blame.

As if stating that I can not form a sentence without shaking and stuttering is bound to take over my life, crash, and fail.
As if hypocritically saying that I'll end up pregnant with an abusive boyfriend flipping burgers to make ends meet is how my life will sail.

Granted that I'm not even able to make anyone stay with me.
A torment of words in the prison of my home, I feel I'll never be free.  

Let me tell you something, ******.
I was doing much better until you came into my life, stole my mother's heart and ****** her.

Grabbed my hair in the intention to afflict pain and make me cry
Threw us in a cardboard box and you demanded we don't question why.

Moved us into a house for the reason being you wanted to be closer to your workplace.
No consideration of us, you just expected us to put a smile on our face.

Stole the only memories, childhood, and friends I have ever made.
Left in this empty home with my sad thoughts and the pill cabinet to raid.

Only my razor blades and the silence and my head spinning in a whirl.
You talk so high and mighty for a 40 something year old always picking on a melancholic teenage girl.

Like your ***** of a mother, like a ***** of a son.
You can't even handle the consequences when your deed has been done.

You do what your mother does, and take what I hate and use it to hurt me.
It is me that I hate, and you know how much it stings more than a bee.

Brainwashed my mother to be a replica of you.
It's so sad when I see my own mom break my heart in two.

Always said that she'll protect us first.
Until you came along and made that ideation of hers burst.

The inequality of your ethics is completely noticeable.
I'm not a ******* animal, I'm a person you caged in a bubble.

You wonder why I'm the way I am: so emotional, so sad, so problematic.
Even though I'm far from the stereotypical high school teenager statistics.

As much as you've claimed you have done so much good for this family,
You've also broken me too many times for me to count, the irreversible cracks in my brain and heart's anatomy.

You need to stop attacking my very presence.
As much as I hate myself, I'm also my own essence.

Let me get better without tearing me down.
Grow the **** up and stop making yourself look like an immature clown.

I know you'll never see this or even try to listen.
Just know everything comes back around, but until then,

I hope you realize your words are damaging to my very soul.
I hope you fix your **** and bury your insensitivity 6 feet down a hole.

Today is his birthday,
But I don't know what to say.

Other than the ordinary "happy birthday" that everyone else is going to say to him.
I can't help but think about last year when I opened my body to him as a gift on a whim.

With fiery eyes and my legs spread apart, mirroring my heart, as he nervously took my gift of unision.
Now that I think about it, it was stupid really, I should have gave him a cake for him to dig in.

But instead he quietly persisted and I let myself succumb.
I didn't think that the next year, I would feel so numb.

I want to give him the gift of my love but it's something lost in the fog in the distance of empty roads.
A garden once blooming, crushed by the cement he paved before I had implode.

It's selfish of me to make this all about myself.
It's just so hard to see all of his things on my art shelf.

I want to tell him I love him and I'm glad he stuck around for another year of his life.
As he whispers that he's so happy he met me and he wants me as his wife.

He's 20 now, but acts like a middleschooler.
Always playing games with the girl in the schoolyard, the hopless romantic middle school loser.

I always let myself fall this deep down.
My knees are so ****** and bruised and the skin of my palms are unbound.

I didn't think that I'd have to walk alone once again.
Afterall, he made the decision to let our love blast into oblivion.

I want to tell him I love and miss him and wish he can say those love-filled words to me once again.
But it isn't my birthday, so he's blowing out the candles, wishing he'll grow into a different man.

A foolish little boy, so careless with the loser's heart.
You don't realize how much you'll miss them until your heart tears apart.

I want to tell him so much more on his special day,
But my heart's voice is sewn together with thread, and all I can muster is a
"Happy Birthday."