in those distant days, i said i never wanted to puff a single cigarette; i never wanted to put any dangerous substances in my system that would compel me to ask for it over and over again. you might be getting high off them, but the thought of they’d harm me—consume me little by little, gradually, until there’s nothing left with me but addiction and dependency is dreadful to me.

it all changed after you decided to break my heart.

now, i don’t care if i harm myself with cigarettes or any dangerous substances. i’m not afraid. because i survived you. you and your love are more harmful. the apocalyptic moment when we pressed our lips together, you also ****** the soul out of my body, leaving me a little to none of myself; you crept inside of me, savoring my vulnerability—they're even more harmful and addictive and euphoric than cigarettes or any dangerous substances could do to our bodies. yet i still survive, although i'm trembling every now and then with some pieces of you and me left in my grasp.

Rise and shine,
Time to start a new!
Or as you could say,
How long till you go your way?

I'll be lucky if you don't start crying, whining or lying about your everyday work.
You could've found better but it's just the beginning so of course it's gonna have it's qwerks.

Barely the middle of it and I can't take ****.
Just take it down and trust me, it'll be real quick.

Quick, here's a tip, don't try to give lip when miss is sick of your trip to this 15 hour shifts cause you can't take a hint that this ain't it your gift or your payment, even though you've been ripped and played and yet you wonder why we shame your decisions.

Oh and don't worry, I'll be here contemplating when Daddy comes home and think, it's just his beginning to an end.

See you tomorrow cause it's the end of just one day.

Her fingertips were Icy
and her eyes rather glazed.
A desecrated body                                                                          
with an endearingly brazen face.
Meandering flesh, rich in mortality and fable.
Her skin mapped a journey,
juncture she could no longer able.
Scared arms marked moments,                                                        
of suicidal salvation.
Unwary and wide eyed,
too juvenile to be taken.

Every time I take a sip
The memory of your touch
Bleeds my mind emotionless

He tells me that I’m beautiful.
That I’m good at what I do.
He tells me that I’m worth every cent while the clock ticks to two.
The mattress is up against the window.
The door is locked x3.
I sit and watch as the smoke floats and drifts around me.
I use my magic words.
And I do my hair just right.
I’ll make a bunch of money if I can make it through the night.
The drugs make it bearable.
So my body hardly feels.
This is my reality now. This is what is real.
Makeup painted on my face
And Fishnets up my thighs.
I tell him that I need him, right to his buggin eyes.
His pipe and rock are on the floor.
So I watch where I walk.
When he gets it in his system I can hardly even talk.
The paranoia eats his mind
As the clock ticks to 4.
He locks us in the bathroom, so no one can see us anymore.
The last of his drugs are gone
As the hour comes to 5
He tells me that I’m beautiful. That I make him feel alive.
He drops me off at home
And thanks me for what I’ve done.
“Last night was great.” He says with a smile,
“I Can’t wait for the next one!”

yesterday i got blood on my jeans
from opening the scrape on my knee
i got three days ago, slipping in the shower,
drunk as hell before noon.
my dad told me to leave the rest of his beer
after i took five in twenty four hours.
i wonder if he realizes how bad i am.
i have to have at least one drink
before i see anyone, just to loosen up.
i drink throughout the day,
not caring what time i start.
my boy expressed concern
about all my empty beer cans.
i decided six hours ago
i would take a break from drinking
but my friend gave me a jelly jar of *****
and i keep telling her i’ll stop, as i pour another.
“i’m going to not drink for two weeks,”
i say as my speech begins to slur.
how many will be my ‘last drink?’
will i make it two weeks?
will i care? does it ******* matter?
there will always be new blood on my jeans.