I have some of
the deepest hatred
for people who use other people’s
names in poetry,
and music,
and anything that’s art.

I believe that
you are supposed to
be able to relate to art.

And when I read
someone else’s name
All I can think is,
that I really am
completely and utterly
on my own with my feelings.

****, I really am alone.

-S.G.

I have to ***** out
My darkness
Like a candle
Or it’s wax drips from
My lips and tongue
And scalds those close to me

I let it burn
Long enough to
Let you know of it’s
Presence
It’s scent filling the room
with hints of
Warm Hazelnut,
Pumpkin Spice,
Clean Cotton

Giving that conversant,
Almost-friendly,
atmosphere

Familiar.

Bringing you in
For more,
Because, hey,
Everyone’s a little bruised,
A little vacant
and dim, Right?

And Nobody,
not one single person
wants to be
Alone in that until
We realize our darkness
Shuts out everything else

That adding another
Person’s shadow to our own,
Is what everyone means when
They talk of
The blind leading the blind.

- S.G.

I don’t need you
to save me,

I need you to
cut me open,

Bleed out
all the darkness
I’ve been withholding
and tell me it’s okay
to be broken

Find my scars
lovely,
and don’t try to
kiss them away

Wrap up my bones
with kind words and
don’t let me forget
that feeling doesn’t
always mean
pain.

- S.G.

When I look at you
I see a light that refuses to burn out,
no matter how many times the wind
uses all its might to blow out your candles

a light that flickers, and dims,
and fades but still remains
through the darkest nights

and in lucid daylight
continues to burn

because no matter how bright the sun can shine,
there is no such thing, as too much light.

- S.G.

I am not your rock,
your place of solace,
and I cannot give you
structure in these
empty words

My own life is
cracking at it’s
foundation
and I’ve lost
the architects
phone number

You have to
find foundation
in yourself

because odds are
your handyman,
isn’t on-call for only you

and when the
wind comes,
and the rain pours
you’ll be stuck
with leaky ceiling tiles
and a draft that will
chill you to the bone

- S.G.

Everyone I’ve spoken to


Tells me that if you were
“Actually” suicidal


You wouldn’t want
Anyone to know

To be honest I’ve


Probably said it myself


A few times

But I don’t know if


I can believe that,


Because every time


I think of dying


All I want to do is


Scream, “Hear me,


hear my ******* voice
and understand it, because


I need you to know that
This is real,
and this is all I think about”

And I don’t want to hear


That it is going to get better.


I just want to feel legitimate again.

- S.G.

I hear voices in the walls,
footsteps of ghosts walking down my hall,
and though I know I created them
I still can’t help but be afraid

They speak in whispers
telling me what I want to hear,
giving me someone to blame,
someone other than myself

but if they really are all in my mind,
I guess I’m just sending myself in circles

maybe that’s why my head
always feels like it’s spinning

Or maybe I just
cannot fathom why I would
construct such a thing that would
aid my demise, as it convinces me
that it is all I need

giving me the illusion that
my feet are steady on the ground
while it pushes me
closer and closer to the edge

- S.G.

I have to ***** out
My darkness
Like a candle
Or it’s wax drips from
My lips and tongue
And scalds those close to me

I let it burn
Long enough to
Let you know of it’s
Presence
It’s scent filling the room
with hints of
Warm Hazelnut,
Pumpkin Spice,
Clean Cotton

Giving that conversant,
Almost-friendly,
atmosphere

Familiar.

Bringing you in
For more,
Because, hey,
Everyone’s a little bruised,
A little vacant
and dim, Right?

And Nobody,
not one single person
wants to be
Alone in that until
We realize our darkness
Shuts out everything else

That adding another
Person’s shadow to our own,
Is what everyone means when
They talk of
The blind leading the blind.

- S.G.

"You’re not bitter anymore"
She spit it out like
Old, tasteless gum

And I wanted to retort:
“You’re ******* right
I’m not bitter
I’m not sorry that I left
And it doesn’t hurt to
Keep leaving you anymore
sometimes I even hope
It’s the last time I do”

But all that came out was:
“I know, I’m getting better”

Better without you
And I know that’s why
It sounded like an insult
When you said it to me

- S.G.

Kiss me with
your burning
lips,
let your
curious fingers
run down to
the small of
my back
and find
their home
there
between my
hips,
let the heat
melt away
the years of
wasted passion
and make me
feel again.

- S.G.

***** up my sorrows
'til I'm empty,
'til I'm cold.

***** up my sorrows,
I’ll be buried ‘fore
I’m old.

- S.G.

My chest caves in
when I see your eyes
devoid of hope

I wish I still saw life in you,
I wish I wasn’t waiting for the day that
I get the call that I’ve expected so many times,
I have been pushing the thought out of my head
since I was ten and I saw the scars
"from my cat," you told me

I could be a hypocrite
and tell you not to be so afraid,
tell you to take care of yourself
because people want you around

but I can’t tell you to keep living,
I would never dare ask you not to
give up

not now,
not anymore

just please,
please don’t leave me yet,
I’m afraid
your empty words
still mean everything to me.

- S.G.

An wave of uneasiness
fills the room
as you step in

Eyes as black as
the night sky,
but it’s not the darkness
that scares them
it’s what the darkness holds,
or in this case what it lacks

You move
so mechanically
it is all so routine to you

Converse,
move your ****-red lips as fast
as your heart is beating


If only they knew
your word *****
could never compare to
what you ***** every night
when the doors close

Blink,
do not let them look into your eyes
because if they do
they might see it all

That no matter how empty you are,
you still feel this insatiable need
to continue pouring yourself out

I can’t promise you a thing
except that
someday it will have taken all of you.

- S.G.

I wasn’t looking
for God, but I
found the Devil,

He slid his
hands up my
skirt, rosary
beads and
all, breathing
skewed
bible verses
into my ******
ears like Mary,

The only tongue
he spoke in
was the one
he was sliding
down my throat,
forked and
snakelike,

He told me,
"Your absence
of faith is pleasing
though incorrect,
you see, just as
seeing doesn’t
mean believing,
rejecting something
doesn’t rob it of
it’s existence.
That means your
sin still counts.”

And I will burn in Hell,
just like everyone else.

- S.G.

Every poet writes of
the moon as if they know her,
drinks coffee like water,
and overuses words that
they have never even said aloud

Because no one truly cares
what the writer felt,
if the interpretation
did not feel relative to the reader himself

       An indent here,
a story about bruised knees,
a summer that should have never ended,
and love that should have
                  before it even began
A copy of a copy,
of a copy, of a copy

and no one seems to notice,
unless while reading,
they felt nothing similar

I could tell you I have flowers
sprouting from my rib-cage,
and a rabbit thumping away in my chest,

but if that means nothing to you
I become just another
******, wannabe internet writer
who failed to make
your heart-strings
resound

- S.G.

I wish I could write for you,
I wish I could die for you,
I wish everything I said
Didn’t seem like I was
Lying to you.

- S.G.

Walking down an alley with you
We talked about China’s one child law
and the flaws of procreation

I admitted I had intrusive thoughts
and nightmares about hurting children
and how it scares me

we both got quiet

I couldn’t breathe so we sat down,
I don’t know why I said that, I’m just
tired of living alone in my fear,

My hands used to create life
And beautiful things, now
they just shake and destroy
like they’re wired all wrong,

my brain misfires and
shatters everything I love,

I should be quarantined,
put away forever,
I should be dead.

- S.G.

Tonight I bent over
to slide my fingers down
my throat & purge my sins away,

but I came to find that
my esophagus has learned
so much after months of this
nightly ritual that it no longer
needs my assistance

it’s hard to exist when
the things you are most
proud of are the things
you have to hide from
everyone else.

- S.G.

Your perspective
Is your reality

You create your demons

the disappearing creature
You see out of the corner
Of your eye,
The dictating voices,
And all of the ghosts
That haunt you

You laugh,
try to convince
The world
That You are not afraid

But you still don’t know
That you, yourself,
Can destroy the very
Demons you are
So bound by

repeat after me:
“I am in control.”

You can exorcise
The cold, abandoned
Body you are
Meant to treat
Like a home

Purge it’s
Negative forces,
Rid it of cobwebs
And dust mites,
Set rat traps,
Pull up the blinds
And paint the shutters
The same colour as
The sun in the sky

You are not
Deep, dark and dank
Like they said you were

You are
A little bit empty,
And in need of some
Home improvement

You are not unfixable,
Because you are not broken

- S.G.

kiss me deeply,
use the rhythm
of your hips to
tell me you love me
without words,

let me do all
the talking, only
when I write
about the heat
of your breath
on my neck,

the grip of
your hands
on my hips,

the overwhelming
thrill when I feel
your weight
on top of me,

because when
words fail, all I
need is your
body language.

- S.G.

For a while
I thought I had
a debt to pay

that the more
I let this take from me
and the smaller I became,
my fears
would do just the same

and as the stomach acid
burned my lips and tongue
I believed it’s sensation
was the physical
manifestation
of the nightmares
pouring out of me

merely side-effects
of my own exorcism

- S.G.

I will never stop wanting more of you,
every breath, every word,
there will always be things
that you keep inside of yourself,
but I want to hear every thought you push aside,
I want to know your darkness,
the cobwebs you hide in the recesses of your mind
because I know you have so many shades that I have yet to see,
that you don’t even know yourself,
and I want to learn them with you

you may think all of your candles have burned out
but without light, there are no shadows

- S.G.

I’m an apparition; nothing but black and blue skin,
coffee stained teeth, and cigarette smoke

You’re nothing but tired eyes, lanky elbows, and a hollow chest;
but that doesn’t make me love you any less.

- S.G.

'Sorry,' the only words I manage to let slip past my
trembling lips, because there is nothing else to say, you have
every right to hate me and every right to leave, and I can see it, feel it, the
language of your body tells that you are afraid that if you don’t
leave now, you may never escape. Because I am a burning building you
knew you couldn’t save, but you tried anyway, gave me all that you could,
and more, poured yourself out over and over again, hoping that I’d finally
let you fix me, but I am void, my mouth razor blades against your soft skin,
my words bitter and cold, they tried to warn you that nothing fills this emptiness,
but you were too busy hoping (naively hoping) you could be my rescue.

- S.G.

The first time I kissed a girl her tongue was coated in morphine and I’ve been chasing that high ever since. I tried to replace it by soaking my brain with prescriptions: codeine, dextromethorphan, etc.

A chemical storm raging in my brain; a storm that’s aftermath is present to this day. I still feel the bugs under my skin at night, sometimes the room spins and I remember the revelations I had.

the one most prominent being that this is Hell, that there is no place better or worse than earth, we are in an actual living Hell and that comforts me just as much as it kills me.

I have thought that
so many times that I
honestly
could not tell you

but if I could give you
anything in the world
it would be an answer
to all the questions
that eat at you
every single day

most importantly
an answer that fulfills you

But I guess
death just defeats
all consolation

And I can see your heart break
every time you talk about the future
every time you let your love for life
swallow you

-S.G.