It’s been so long, why am I scared though?
Heart racing, I can’t handle the screams.
With a bang, I hear screams.
I thought it would be fine, they won’t make me cry.
They won’t make me scared.
They won’t-.

As I reassured myself yet another bang resounded making me run to the corner.
All the screams, are they my imagination?
All the cries, this must be real.
It’s going to happen again isn’t it, and I’ll fail to do anything.
And again, I’ll act the victim when the truth is bare.

My thoughts mix together making me unable to think anymore.
I’m on flight mode, I just want it all to go away.
Back to the old days, filled with sorrow and despair.
Forced like a zombie, more of me started rotting away.
I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t see.
Are my arms falling off? Has my head rolled?
What’s going on, it just hurts.
It hurts, why am I forced to be this way?

Am I really forced?
I can easily walk out of this cage I made.
With all the faulty holes, I could fit right through.
Just walk, just leave.
It’s seems so simple, yet I can’t do it.
I can reach my hand out, but that’s it.
Is that really all I can do?
How pathetic, how miserable.
Why can’t I do more, why didn’t I do more?
Maybe if I did more less people would have fallen.

Maybe I should die, since that’s all I can do?
Can I die, it would make up for what I did.
But it’s too late for that option, I have to live on.
Do I really?
I’m not sure, however living on will only add to the despair.
Yet dying would be another mistake.

I’ll have to go back to those days again, those were hate and sorrow remain.
I have the keys to the chains that hold me back, and yet I still can’t stop myself from going back.
Why is that so?
I’m not forced to remain the puppet yet I still do.
I wonder, when will the day come when I’ll be free?
When will the day come when I’ll be able to play with everyone else?
When I’ll be able to laugh with them?
My hope is that it will soon happen, though who truly knows anymore.
I truly do not know.

if i
     could still dream
without thinking of them

if i could recall
      my nightmares
in anything a't'all__
.if i could feel less

       i absolutely would

but ev'r'mornin
doth i recall
the mirror and our
youngest faces


the **** goes off
          the shot goes off

if i had but a single dream
reflected on the television screen--
mayhaps eight i was.

    the explosions i cannot recall
but the dreams remain  the the the

towers fall.

              would that i could
               evacuate this path


              how can i be anything?

I destroy my imperfections with methodical, practiced precision.
In the mirror.
Face to face with the witching hour.
I swallow them whole like oysters in the moonlight,
ripe and swollen.

I strike when I am the least opaque.
Which is, of course, when no one else is looking.
My belly swells to fullness with my mollusk sorrows
and all the ways I hide them.
I admire its roundness, and caress its crescent shape.

I am alone on this plane, with my hands,
Where every night I digest and birth myself
in endless cycle.
Until morning.
Daily, I reteach myself my own history in pictures
And try to remember how to love.

I dont want food to be my adiction anymore
I don't want to numb my emotions by yet another drug
I dont want to sweep everything underneath a rug.

Yes Ive did it wrong, but what could I do?
Food was the only thing that gave me comfort, its not like I've could've shoot up ******* in my veins at the age of 10.

But I had food, a sick adiction, a temporary fix, for problems that are much deep.

It's a miracle that I could've even function under such amounts of stress, But I did it brave without showing any signs of distress. And why, why wouldnt I feel disstress and pain? anyone that walked in my shoes would feel the same.

So this is my solution, a sour and sweet absolution, from now on there'll be no supstatution for how I feel.

welcome to a house of terror, 
we are a family of smiling wall starers, 
this is a happy life you know, 
and this happend just a couple of years ago, 

I used to wake up and get dressed, 
hide from all of the rest,
as I speed away to school, 
I only felt like the world was cruel, 

when I finally go there, 
I used to hide next to the toilet-chair, 
because I needed some seconds to beath, 
before I went out and joined the heat. 
pushed, teased, beaten, kicked, defeat, 
I stood my grounds my my heart fell down. 

I went home thinking my day would come around, 
but it never did, I was always hellbound, 
nasty words and beatings was my usual greetings, 
until I took that gun and POPPED, 
no, but I wish I wouldnt have stopped, 

because now I still live in fear,
and I always wounder if the end is near.

I see the house, Im here to stay .
Nobody to hold my hand, nobody to protect me if they try to-
take me over.
Im so scared Im shaking.
I open the door and I pass into the hall.
Where my mother comes up.
She makes me feel so small.
She is screaming, raging mad.
And dad is drunk, he ain´t doing nothing about that.
She raises her hand about to hit me,
then she disappears.
Throughout this experience I've been shaking violently,
I stopped breathing or breathing extremely hollowly,
could feel a sense of cold washing through my body,
and all I want to do is fall down sobbing.
Im not yet ready to pass through,
I need help, because of you.