Do you ever just have those moments
When your heart turns black and rots
Your mind gets high on the angst
The suffering is all you need
And you want it... more of it
Listen to gruesome, terrible songs
Sounds of screaming and pain
Loss and grief wrap you like a blanket
It hurts but you’re at home
It’s dangerous but you feel safe
And then the moments come more often
Blurring into days... weeks...
Until you’ve lived in your agony for months
Begging for something more
Tell me a story
Tell me of death and tragedy
Tell me of self destruction
It’s addicting to me

She let the tiny pieces of paper under her tongue
Bring her closer to a temporary euphoria,
But reality hits when the ego rises from the ashes
And her sweet trip is over.

i love you,
i want you,
but i can't have you.

a pillow is something i can lean on
suddenly, my favorite song played
i hugged my pillow
pouring all my strength in it
not realizing how many tears
i had let out

"i give up... i g-give up"
i repeated
tears continues to ran down
"i hate this... i hate this feeling-"
a scream echoed in an empty room
a scream of a sad
and lonely little girl...

it's an empty shed,
and my mind's been dead.
before you—
i was alone in bed.

one day someone will love you

he will remove your shirt
his hands will move over your skin
soft, fragile fingertips, safe, warm touch
you will sigh and he will enjoy the sound and sight of you
unfurling before him

my mistakes that clog my skin
my anger a bitter, pulsing monster
my love a ****** ****,
but shouldn't it be me to rip the buttons of your shirt
let it fly to the floor
breathe in your skin
admire the view of your eyes closing as i
trailed red kisses over you

shouldn’t it be me who knew you better than he could?
and yes, i am not your typical lover
but i cannot imagine you’d want him
to be intimate with someone who could barely love you,
a tepid version of the love i would make you feel,
i’d let smiles overwhelm our intimacy,
but it will be him, not me, touching your skin like it's golden
you’ll never know that my love is heaven and skies,
and his is merely a shiny fracture of the sunlight i could give you

yet despite my desperate tries of declaring this all
you turn your head away from the sun, me, too bright
and crawl to your comfort, when you could stride to my sunlight
you will shiver in the shadows of his love
instead of basking in the heat of mine

he’s larger than life,
a caricature of patriotism
in a thompson-esque world
of mania and devilish charm.
one hand on my waist,
the other on his new pistol;
puts me in a trance
watching him smoke cuban missiles.
sirens crying out at sea
won’t lure him into turquoise waves.
swears he’s from the tribe
that calls appalachia home,
but the mountains vehemently refuse;
cherokee roots thatta ways don’t grow.
i wished for his violent affection;
it felt like heaven’s projection,
but when i found a life worth living for
freedom he wasn’t willing to award.
swore he’d buy me the stars and
bestow a nomadic nebula to me,
but only if i sold him my soul
and gave him my castle’s key.
no amount of holy white flames
will devour the fingerprints and dirt
he coated my exquisite flesh in,
but i can paint them to show
the horrors from which i’ll grow.
strangled up in ivy and a kaleidoscopic spin,
breathing my vows while he dips me, achilles,
in that vile city river of sin.