in times of pain
in times of harsh
i give you heart,
shelter from rain
so ask again
why do i try
when you are blind
of my demise.

I've attempted to **** someone before



The dark part is




It wasn't an attempted homicide

Maybe my whole body is a compacted lump of doubts and expectations, ****** choices, and lonely words at 2am.
Maybe that is what I am.
I'm made of ****-ups, uncomfortable apologies, and stolen bubble-gum *****, carelessly beaten into a
vaguely human play-doh masterpeice

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

There are barely memories left untainted
A childhood cut short
A trusting soul shredded with each stolen touch
Still now, after a lifetime of living,
Of forcibly refusing to be nothing,
Of overcoming everything
Remnants seep through the skin
From the depths of demon's lair
Distant cackles mock the resurgence of nightmares
Scouring pad scrubbies only removed skin
The stink of it remains
Filling every pore
Escaping in a sigh, infectious by design
Time heals nothing
It protects the broken pieces
Masking them behind affection & other surface emotions
The jagged edges of the memory of pain
Still violate innocence
Still ruin a smile before it is born
Used as brutal warnings,
They are jabbed straight through a heart trying desperately to heal
At the first sign of affection, the pain awakens
At the first sign of attachment, it skins the heart alive
Angered at defiance, it burns like molten metal
Scraping at the hardened crevasses of the mind
Searing pain in hidden dreams
Cauterizing the memories open
Reliving the blade time has dulled
Never allowed to love
Even if it's make-believe
Twisted sounds of tinkling music boxes
And the distant laughter of demons
CACKLE AND HISS
Cackle And Hiss
cackle and hiss
Muted into a familiar rhythm
Underlying the complacency of life
Only to scorch a soul into nightmares
When the heart dares to feel

Over the years
I've built this home inside of my mind
To put away the thoughts and fears
The for sale sign allows me to leave behind.
Soon the prevailing wind
Will soon bring vacation to an end,
I'll return to find a cracking foundation
Crumbling walls and stagnation.
I'll search for answers from the beginning
The cracks in my concrete grow
But you're the one filling them, I hope you know.